Page 53 of You Cake My Breath Away

No one realizes how awkward proposals are until they’re forced to sit and watch one happening in real time. Declaring your love in front of a table of twelve and then asking someone to give you an answer right then and there is nerve-wracking for the spectators. I can only imagine how Tilly felt with all eyes on her as Jessie started his speech and ended it with his knee on the ground and a ring box in his hand.

Deidre leaned over and started gushing about how adorable the entire thing was, and it made me sick to my stomach. Cheers and champagne were passed around as everyone congratulated the happy couple. Shantel squeezed my shoulder and pulled me in for a hug. For a minute I worried she knew my dirty little secret, but then she whispered, “I’m so drunk I can’t see straight, will you take me home?”

I congratulated Jessie on his proposal and told him I was going to take his sister home before she made a fool of herself. Malik had to work late on a merger, so he stayed home. I hadn’t expected Tilly to wrap her arms around me, elation written all over her face as she told me how much she loved her ring, how perfect it was. She’d had a few drinks by then and was a little more open than normal. Fire exploded in my chest when she squeezed me tight. Her hair smelled of lemons, and I couldn’t help planting a soft kiss onto the top of her head as I congratulatedher.

Deidre’s frown had me pulling away from Tilly quicker than I wanted, but it wasn’t right for me to be holding her anyways. She wasn’t mine, and she never would be. But holding her close seemed to shatter my world completely.

I dropped Deidre off at home with a promise to give her a call tomorrow, and Shantel’s drunk ass couldn’t make it up the steps to her house, so I called Malik to come get her. He came out in Jack Skellington pajamas and threw her over his shoulder with a thanks. It was pretty funny to see when everything she drank exploded down the back of his shirt and he started cursing. I wish I could say I was a nice guy and helped him clean it up, but I was strung tight and needed to unwind.

I should be sleeping, but instead I’m writing to you telling you all about my shitty week. Mom and Dad begged me to do some construction work at one of their friends’ houses tomorrow. It’s funny how they look down on my career until it benefits them in some way. But the money is good. It’s better than good, so I keep my trap shut like you taught me and do the work right. My construction company is really starting to grow, and if I keep on this upward trajectory, I’ll be able to put a down payment on that fixer-upper with the three-car garage you and I saw on the outskirts of town. It’s far enough away from Mom that I won’t have to worry about her stopping by to gather information for Dad disguised as “I miss my boy” visits.

So many things are starting to happen for me, and I wish you were here to celebrate. I’ll do a few shots in your honor tonight while I drown my sorrows about Tilly. Come tomorrow, I’m starting on a new plan. One that involves moving up and moving on.

-Arch

Chapter twenty-eight

Tilly

Grocery shopping for baking materials is my favorite part of the week. With Dad’s approval of the sticky toffee pudding cake and the apple-pear crumble I made, I’m feeling excited about the prospect of opening my bakery in a month. Nearly all of the construction work outside of a few shelves are complete, so I can finish decorating the inside and prepare for a soft opening. The front area is all painted, and I’m waiting on a delivery of tables and light fixtures this week. I’ve yet to find a bakery case I love, but I’m holding out hope I’ll find one soon. I’d rather not open without one, but I also don’t want to be forced into buying one I absolutely hate either.

I’ve managed to avoid Archer the last three days because he was away doing a construction job, but I know he’s returning soon for the Thanksgiving break, and I’m not sure what the new dynamic will be between us.

It’s equal parts exciting and anxiety-inducing.

On autopilot, I pay for my groceries, drop them off at my house, and head to Nora’s for Sunday dinner. I note the absence of a particular green truck when I park my car, and an uneasy feeling settles in my chest.

“Hey chickadee.” Nora greets me at the door with her silver hair pulled into a bun and a fall inspired apron around her neck. “Dinner’s almost done. Shantel needs help with dessert.”

“Oh no.” I hold up the pie in my hand and she laughs.

“Thank God you brought that. We’ll probably need it.”

Shantel’s braids are a crazy nest on top of her head, and she’s buzzing around the kitchen making messes as she goes. She’s always been a frazzled type of baker, but this is next level.

“Want some help?” I ask, placing the pie I made into the fridge.

“I swear if that’s dessert I’ll chop off your fingers.” She wields a knife, pointing it my way like a crazed killer. “I told you I was going to try to make something this time.”

“You’d likely cut your own fingers off before you managed to get anywhere near me.”

She huffs. “You’re probably right, but we’re not opening yours until we at least try mine.”

I surrender. “No problemo.”

A familiar noise outside grows louder, and in turn my heart rate increases. Archer’s truck has a distinct sound I’d know anywhere. Wiping my sweaty hands on my skirt, I grab a knife and chop cucumbers for a salad beside Shantel.

“Hey ladies.” Archer’s dressed in a tight black sweater and dark jeans. His beard is trimmed, and he looks like he’s gotten a haircut sometime in the last few days.

It takes a moment before I realize my mouth is parted and I’m breathing too heavy. Shantel bumps my arm, and I accidentally slice into my finger.

“Damn it,” I say.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Til.” Shantel grimaces, an apology written on her face.

Archer’s warm body encroaches on my space. He takes my hand and leads me to the kitchen sink. “Let me see how deep it is.”

It’s not the pain at the forefront of my mind but the firm grasp he has on my fingers. The nerves in my body light up like fireworks, andI struggle not to lean more into him. I’m vaguely aware of Nora and Shantel chatting, but the man diligently cleaning my wound has my full attention.

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