Page 10 of The Accidental Honeymoon

I turn the camera back to me and encourage my fans to come down to the Greater town square, where we will give out cake until we succumb to hypothermia.

“Seriously?” Calla whispers harshly as I hit the upload button. “I look like a deer in headlights.”

“You look adorable,” I say. Even I can hear the warmth in my voice. Maybe I had too much tequila, but I don’t really care. “Trust me, this will be good for you. For the bakery.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but it’s too late now. The video is live.

“See? My followers are already liking and commenting at a furious pace.” I show her the screen, and a few familiarnames from the community pop up. One person writes, “On our way!”

I see Calla tense with a mix of fear and excitement.

“We’re turning this into a party,” I say, grinning.

As we continue handing out cake, I film little snippets, each one more ridiculous than the last. I make exaggerated yummy noises, interview random people about the cake, and even try to start a chant of “We love Calla!” which mercifully doesn’t catch on.

Through it all, Calla laughs, her reservations melting away. There’s something liberating about it all.

Not caring for a moment, just letting the chaos unfold.

A young couple walks by. I practically tackle them with my enthusiasm. “Have some cake! It’s free, and it’s amazing!”

They take a slice each, and the girl asks if this is the cake from the video. I nod. “Sure is!”

The girl squeals, taking a selfie with me and the cake. I make sure to mention You Butter Believe It again, catching Calla’s soft smile out of the corner of my eye.

“Okay,” she says, grabbing the knife. “If you’re going to make me a star, it’s time for you to enjoy some cake. Iinsist.” She cuts a huge piece and holds it out to me. “Berry Gentilly Lace, just like you wanted.”

My eyes light up. I take the plate with almost reverent care. “You really made a whole tier in this flavor? I thought you were just humoring me.”

“I aim to please,” she says, her voice lighter now. “And I would like to point out that I actually made the base layer Gentilly Lace, so the cake is more this flavor than any other. Go on, try it.”

I take a bite. My initial reaction isdamn, Calla can bake. I already sort of knew that, but this tasteof heaven confirms it. My eyes roll back and I give an exaggerated moan. “Calla, this is… I have no words. It’s perfection.”

I stuff more into my mouth, grinning as she laughs at how ridiculous I look. Cake isn’t my thing, but this cake is heavenly.

“I’m in love,” I declare, mouth full of cake, words all but indecipherable. “In love with this cake.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Her words are belied by her grin.

I swallow and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Sometimes it feels good to be bad,” I tease.

Before Calla can respond, a group of my fans arrives, drawn by the allure of free cake and social media fame. They cluster around us. I find myself playing the gracious host, dishing out slices and taking more selfies. I pull Calla into a few shots, ignoring her half-hearted protests. She puts on her best unimpressed face, but I can see the hint of a smile she’s trying to hide.

The crowd thins eventually. I notice that Calla is shivering. I drape my coat over her shoulders without thinking. “I think that’s enough charity,” I say. “Thanks for keeping me company tonight, though.”

“No problem,” she says softly, her eyes meeting mine. “Tonight was actually fun.”

“Yeah, it was,” I reply.

The street is quiet as I wheel the decimated cake back into the Tin Shed Pub. I try to judge her mood so I can figure out if she’s up for more. “So, what’s next for you?”

She exhales, her expression thoughtful. “Back to reality, I guess.”

“Reality can wait,” I say, almost pleading. “Stay a little longer.”

She hesitates. For some reason, I find myself holding my breath. When she nods, relief washes over me.

“Maybe just for a bit.”

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