Page 26 of Playoffs & Promises

"Excuse me?" I ask, not sure if her words are meant as a compliment or a barb.

"The baker of that delicious cake--and those famous left-wing lemon bars." She extends a hand with perfectly manicured nails. "I'm Carrie I sent you an email about the naming competition cupcakes. I thought if you had a moment we could discuss details in person rather than go back and forth in email."

Recognition clicks and I shake her hand enthusiastically. "Oh. Of course! It's great to meet you in person."

"Fabulous," she says with a practiced smile. "There's one more person we need for this conversation."

Before I can respond, she loops her arm with mine and guides me through the room until we find the coach of the hockey team. He's a big man, and incredibly intimidating despite the warm smile on his face. Carrie doesn't waste any time getting straight to the point with him and in short order she has all the details hammered out for me to make what I need to.

The coach soon gets pulled away, leaving me and Carrie to ourselves. I'm still reeling from how quickly and unexpectedly it all happened.

"Thank you so much for inviting me to be part of it," I tell her. "This all sounds amazing."

"Your cupcakes are all over our socials. It was natural to partner with you. Plus the whole team and staff love your little bakery. It was a done deal." Her voice drops to a whisper, almost conspiratorial. "Although between you and me, watch your back around Lou. There's nothing he won't do for his career."

My heart skips a beat. "What?" I ask, caught off guard.

She looks almost regretful as she quickly glances around to make sure no one is paying any attention to us. "This is awkward. I shouldn't have said anything."

"But you did," I press. My nerves have ramped up, and my heart is starting to race.

"Forget I did." She looks behind me and quickly excuses herself, leaving me standing there, confused, and unsettled.

My breath is coming faster, and my chest is feeling tight. I scan the room, searching for something to reground me, something to focus on while I get the panic under control so I don't embarrass myself in front of all the smiling faces and happy people,

I spot the cake, and decide to check on it. Anything to distract from the knot tightening in my chest. The layers sometimes shift if people get too enthusiastic while serving themselves cake.

As I approach the cake, I see that most people have already had a slice. One less worry for the evening, and the knot lessens just a little. I cut a piece for myself, hoping the flavors will help to further calm my nerves.

Just as I'm about to take a bite, Lou appears beside me.

"That looks amazing." He says, his voice warm and genuine.

"Would you like some?" I ask, setting my plate aside as I seize the opportunity to focus on Lou.

"Can I?"

I carefully cut a generous slice for him, ensuring he gets every last bit of the cake and frosting on his plate. My hands tremble just a little as I hand it over to him. Nerves of a different kind hit me. His opinion shouldn't matter, but somehow it's become important to me. He picks up a fork to get himself a bite.

Just as the tines touch the first bit of frosting, words start tumbling out of my mouth. They come out in a full-on ramble to distract myself, or maybe delay his judgment. I'm no longer sure as I pick up my own plate of cake. "The cake is best when you can get a bite with all of the different flavors at once. Or at least, get the chocolate or vanilla layer with some of the cream cheese frosting and raspberry filling so it can break up all the richness."

He gets everything I recommended on the fork, and lifts it to his mouth and takes one perfect bite. I stop talking, I stop breathing, I stop everything. Frozen as I watch and wait to see his reaction. The fork goes past his lips and his eyes close. He pulls the fork away, and then he's nodding yes to himself and throwing the hand with the fork up in the air with a fist pump.

Relief washes over me, and I can't help but smile.

His eyes pop open and he looks at me and then at the cake on his plate. "That is the best cake I've ever had! Don't tell my mom."

He eagerly takes another bite, just as enthusiastic about this bite as he was the last. I completely forget about my own, completely caught up in the sheer joy on his face. He finishes his slice and then looks at the cake on the table, clearly debating whether to take another slice.

"Here," I offer him my plate.

He takes my plate like it's more precious than the lemon bar I'd given him earlier. Asking in an almost reverent tone, "Are you certain?"

I nod, feeling at peace with the decision as I see him take the cake so seriously.

His voice lowers, and I realize he's no longer talking to me. He's using the same voice he uses to talk to Cinnamon to talk to the cake. Telling it that it's the best-tasting cake in the whole wide world.

It's so endearing that I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing out loud, I can't help but find it amusing and flattering. I don't think I've seen a grown man ever get so excited about my baking. Making peace with him for tonight was the best decision. I'm still hurt over the past, but maybe, I should try to let it go like Isa has told me a hundred times.

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