Page 91 of You Cake My Breath Away

Hearing his name steals the breath from my chest. It’s been five days since our blow-up, and I haven’t spoken to or seen him. I sent him one text on Saturday to let him know I needed space and time, and he didn’t send any the rest of the days. I guess he put as much effort into fixing things with me that he wanted to, and he showed me I was right in thinking I was just another conquest, a box to check off.

“Tilda St. James,” I say, hoping and praying my name is on the order sheet as well. Even though Archer owns the space, I’m still the one that paid for the freezer, so it damn well should be.

“Gotcha,” he says, holding out his pen. “Sign here, please.”

I scribble my name and back out of his way. He grabs a dolly and a few minutes later is backing down the ramp with my freezer. I should feel giddy that the last big item I needed to open is finally here, but I don’t.

All I feel is unsatisfied and empty.

It takes a few hours for the walk-in freezer to be built, but once the delivery driver leaves, I plug it in and get back to organizing the shelves.Most of my list is checked off, but I still have menu boards to do, a bakery case to clean and redecorate, and flyers to disperse. Grand opening is in less than two weeks, and I need to get the word out about my bakery. Archer took some flyers with him to his hardware stores last week, and the managers told him a lot of people seemed excited to try my desserts.

Imposter syndrome weighs on my chest, and the thought sends me back to being a teenager at the school bake sale.

No one wanted to try the tropical coconut brownies or the martian cookies I made, and when my mom saw I was the only one without people at my table, she whispered words of encouragement into my ears as she paid for a cookie for herself to eat.

They don’t have sophisticated palates like us,she’d say. And while she was right most of the time, she’s no longer here to give me the encouragement I need. I shake off the unwelcome doubt and piddle around the shop before I head off to do baby stuff with Shantel.

“Hey girl, hey,” Shantel yells from the side of the car.

“Ready to fill up this registry?” I ask, sliding into the passenger seat.

We zip down the highway, passing the massive cowboy boots in front of North Star Mall. Now that Thanksgiving has come and gone, the boots are lit up with Christmas lights, inviting everyone in to get their shopping finished before the holiday season begins. This will be my second Christmas without Jessie, and the thought of spending it alone strangles me as we step into the baby store.

“I wanna look at the swaddles and bassinets first,” she says, heading down the aisle.

After perusing bibs and highchairs, pack and plays, nipple guards and breast pumps, we hand over the handheld scanners and leave to meet Nora for dinner. Shantel’s energy is antsy as she fiddles with the radio,the air conditioner, and the windows, and I can’t help but wonder what’s going on.

“You okay?” I ask.

She nods. “Yup.”

I narrow my eyes. “Shantel?”

“Mmhmm?”

“What’s going on?”

She chews on the skin of her fingers, leaning forward to look at the light. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Knowing she’ll never come out and say what it is, I figure a change of subject is in order. “Have you and Malik thought about names for the baby?”

“Archer’s going to be at dinner,” she blurts out.

Well, that’s a change of subject if I’ve ever heard one.

“Okay,” I say, heart pounding in my chest. “That’s fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

“I’m totally fine.” I cringe at my high-pitched voice.

She laughs. “Really? Because your voice sounds like you’ve joined Alvin and the Chipmunks.”

I clear my throat. “It’s fine…I’ll be fine.”

“Mom just wanted to forget all the chaos and celebrate tonight before he leaves.”

The seatbelt nearly garrotes me as I lurch forward, eyes wide and pinned on her. “Before he leaves to where?”

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