Page 17 of Always the Baker

“That’s right. You mentioned last night that you’re an artist. What kind of art do you do?”

“I’m actually working on a big mural right now,” I said, surprised by how the lie slipped out easily. “It’s for a new community center downtown.”

Brax’s eyes lit up and he smiled widely, showing the gold diamond grill that made me clench my thighs as my pussy leaked. “That’s dope, Billie. What’s the mural of?”

I panicked for a second before inspiration struck. “It’s an abstract piece representing the diversity of the neighborhood. The Hills is known for its blackness and wealth, so I want to show that. It has different shades of brown and bold shapes coming together to form a cohesive whole.”

“Wow, that sounds amazing. I’d love to see it sometime.”

“Oh, um, it’s not quite ready yet. Still a work in progress, you know?”

Brax nodded. “Of course. No pressure. I’m just glad you’re getting to pursue your passion.”

Guilt gnawed at my stomach, but I pushed it aside. It wasn’t a total lie. I did want to be an artist who was asked to make murals. I just wasn’t quite there yet.

“I wouldn’t say painting is my passion; baking is. I love baking of all kinds but cakes, wedding cakes, is my specialty. If I could spend my days baking and my nights painting, that’s what I’d do.”

“You talking real nice to me now.” We both leaned forward more into the table. “I have a sweet tooth that’s out of this world. What’s your favorite dessert?”

“Hmm… You probably expect me to say cake but it’s sweet potato pie. I’d have that for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if I could. What about you?”

“Strawberry cake, no doubt. And chocolate. Those are like number one and one point five.”

With a giggle, I admitted, “Those are super easy to make.”

“What’s it gonna take for you to make me one… or two?” he asked, taking my hands in his on top of the table.

“You sure you trust me?”

His head tilted as a comfortable smile rested on his handsome face. Brax didn’t answer right away as he stared at me. Every time he did, I felt peace.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Then I got you.”

We talked for hours. The conversation flowed easily. Brax told me stories about life on tour, and I found myself laughing more than I had in months. This was exactly what I’d come here for. A part of me still couldn’t believe I was with him.

We enjoyed the sunset. He pulled me into his arms as we stood by the window to watch. Feeling his body pressed against mine felt like an anchor, a security, I hadn’t felt with a man ever. After the sun set, we went up to the rooftop. We drank, danced, and enjoyed each other’s company.

As the night went on, I relaxed and let myself enjoy the moment. Instead of operating in disbelief of it happening, I soaked in every second of it. Maybe this lie wasn’t such a bad thing if it led to nights like this. Even better, positioning myself for this lie, this life, to be real.

Brax leaned back in his chair, running a hand over the top of his head. “Billie, talking to you is like a breath of fresh air. I can admit I came here for a break, and I’m getting that with you. I’m really enjoying getting to know you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Really? From what you post, it looks like you love the lifestyle. The parties and connections—”

He let out a dry laugh. “Sometimes. But mostly, it’s just exhausting. Everyone wants a piece of you, and I’m tired of that shit. It’s like being trapped in a fishbowl with people constantly tapping on the glass.”

I nodded. The visual was a perfect way to describe something the average person wouldn’t be able to feel. It gave me a sense of empathy toward him. I couldn’t imagine how tough it was to navigate his life… his fame.

“But you,” he continued as those rich brown eyes bore into mine, “you’re so normal. So real. Your energy is good. It’s refreshing.”

I swallowed hard. Guilt twisted in my gut. If only he knew how far from normal I really was. Or, at least, the version of myself that I’d shared with him. My personality was real but the life I portrayed having certainly was not.

“Tell me about your dreams,” he added. “Do you have any? Or are you content painting? Do you want more out of life?”

I hesitated, then tossed all caution to the wind. “Well, this mural is just the beginning. I want to have my work in galleries all over the world. Paris, New York, Tokyo. I want to create art that moves people.”

Even though the mural was a lie, that dream was the truth. It may have been Mom’s dream for me, but it had been imbedded in me for so long it was mine too. I told him about imaginary art shows and fictional commissions, painting a picture of the life IwishedI had. Maybe if I did, my parents wouldn’t have to work so hard at the printing company to make ends meet. I could take care of us all and bake in my spare time whenever I wanted to. Because the more time I spent with Brax, the less Ian’s words affected me. I wouldn’t say I completely felt open to love again, but spending this time with a man of Brax’s caliber made me hopeful.

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