Page 127 of Love Without Control

“I think Andrea will be pleased.”

“But will her mother?” he scoffed, and I shook my head in silent commiseration with the poor bride. She was dealing with a full-fledged mom-zilla.

“Who the hell knows? That woman is something else.”

Barry checked his phone, and his ginger eyebrows shot straight up. “Whoa, they caught that serial killer.”

“The one near Miami?” I asked, instantly on high alert.

“Yep.” His eyes scrolled down the screen. “Wow. Dude dressed up as Prince Charming for kids’ birthday parties. That was how he found his victims. Holy shit!”

“Would you mind storing the cake for me? I need to make a phone call.”

“Sure thing.”

Walking out the back door to the employee parking lot, I found a shady spot beneath a full oak tree and leaned against the thick trunk before dialing Eden’s number. She answered right away.

“Hello?”

“Hey, babe. I was wondering if you’ve seen the news today.”

“The serial killer thing?” she asked.

“Yeah, that.”

I could hear the excitement in her voice. “I did. I got to see Monty doing some press conferences and stuff. He’s kinda famous and shit now.”

I laughed. “That’s pretty cool.” The sounds of waves crashing in the background caught my ear over the phone line, and I frowned. “Are you at work?”

She hesitated only for a second. “No, I wasn’t feeling great, so Maz sent me home.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, pushing away from the tree.

“Just an upset stomach. I’m fine. Sitting on the lanai with a glass of iced tea, a cute dog, and a grumpy cat.”

“Did you throw up?”

“Just once, but—”

“I’m on my way. I’ll stop and get some 7-Up.”

“Dane,” she sighed, “I’m fine. I promise.”

“See you in a few minutes,” I said and hung up.

When I arrived at home, my wife was indeed on the back porch with her feet up. I watched her through the window for a moment before filling a glass with ice and the clear soda. Taking it outside, I swapped it for her glass of tea and kissed the top of her head.

“How are you?”

“I told you I was fine, you sweet, ridiculous man. I think I just got emotional, you know? I haven’t heard my brother’s voice in sixteen years, and it was weird.”

I took the seat beside her and draped my arm around the back of her chair. “I guess that makes sense. I was done anyway. I finished up a wedding cake, and all the baking is done for the day.”

Eden tilted her head over against my shoulder. “Then I guess I get to spend the rest of my day with my husband.”

Almost three weeks later, I was wiping down tables at Sweet Heaven at the end of the day. There was only one table of customers left, two twenty-something ladies who were sipping lattes and eating coffee-flavored cupcakes with a chocolate ganache drizzle on top, one of our most popular desserts.

“Did you hear that Bouvier woman died?” one of them said in a conspiratorial voice.

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