Page 13 of Bread By the Grim
I bite my tongue to keep from saying, “It’s a date.” Instead, I just smile and say, “I look forward to it.”
He grins and turns his attention back to the road. The wedding venue is the Ghostlight Falls Performing Arts Center, an old building not far from the main part of downtown. It’s a beautiful two-story structure with a balcony that overlooks the road. Parking is in the back, but Grim turns his emergency lights on and parks on the road, closest to the door. He takes the base of the cake, while I take the two smaller tiers, and heads inside.
We take the elevator to the second floorand find ourselves in a breathtaking ballroom. “This is beautiful,” I say as we step out of the elevator.
“Isn’t it?” Grim says. “It’s been around since the late 1800s. I think it’s booked all year for weddings.”
“You could be making some big money from cakes.”
He shakes his head. “I have the drawing ability of a five-year-old. YOU will make some big money from these cakes.”
We set the cakes down on a table, and while Grim stands guard, I hunt down the event coordinator. She signs for the cakes and points us in the direction of where to set up. Thankfully, the bride and groom went fairly traditional with the cake. It’s a white buttercream cake with roses trailing down the sides. They provided their own topper—a tiny human woman next to a tall goat-man. I pull the topper out of the box, and Grim makes a noise.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, suddenly alarmed.
He shakes his head. “Nothing, it’s fine. We should probably hurry so we’re not here when the wedding party gets here.”
I look at him for a few seconds longer, not quite sure I believe him, before turning back to the cake. It looks perfect. I take a few pictures with my phone from different angles as Grim gets more and more antsy, get approval for the setup from the event coordinator, and turn to move to the elevator.
Unfortunately, Grim concerns prove to be right.There are people coming off the elevator just as we walk up to it. A small group of people in fancy dresses and suits steps off the elevator. Most are human. Except for one. A tall goat-man steps off. From the looks of him, he’s probably not the groom unless this is a huge age-gap relationship. Gray hair sits at his temples. His eyes fall on Grim, and both men stop in their tracks.
Tension suddenly crackles between them.
“What are you doing here?” the goat-man demands, his hands already at his tie. Is he seriously about to start a fight?
Grim steps in front of me. “We’re just delivering a wedding cake.”
“We don’t want your cake,” the goat-man’s voice is a rumble, his face twisted in anger.
“Now, Arnold–” a woman at his side starts.
“Sir, the cake is already paid for. I spent years in culinary school. I can assure you that—” I try to explain.
His eyes never leave Grim. “We don’t want your wedding cake,” he repeats, cutting me off.
“Dad, it’s not your wedding,” a young woman at his side says with a sigh. I look over at her and realize she’s not entirely human. She looks a lot like the woman at Arnold’s side but has the ears and horns of a goat.
She turns to us and shakes her head. “Thankyou. The cake looks beautiful. They’ll love it. Dad, we’re going to go sit down.”
“You can’t trust a monster like that with your food. He probably spit in it or put salt in it.”
That is a little too far. I have no idea what this man’s problem is, but I will not let him speak ill of my cake. “Sir, I spent years in culinary school to learn how to do my job. I have never been accused of tampering with food. I have always used the highest quality ingredients and always adhere to the strictest of cleanliness standards–”
The young woman shakes her head. “It’s fine. Ignore him. He’s just being–”
Grim and Arnold haven’t taken their eyes off of each other this entire time. What bad blood do they have between them that they look ready to fight in a ballroom?
“GET OUT NOW!” Arnold demands through clenched teeth. I put a hand on Grim’s arm. He’s shaking, practically seething with anger. His arms feel tight as if the muscles beneath the flesh are spasming.
“Grim, we should go,” I tell him. I thread my fingers through his, and that seems to catch his attention. He looks down at our hands, then meets my eyes. He turns back to Arnold, hisses, and then pulls me to the elevator. Thankfully, it’s empty.
He drags me into the elevator and grabs onto therailing, collapsing against the wall. Scared he’s about to fall over or pass out, I pull him in my arms. For once, he doesn’t try to back away. He wraps his arms around me and leans his head against my shoulder. His breathing is ragged and shallow, as if he’s been running miles. I run my hands down his back and hit bumps along his spine. Has he always had them? Have I just never noticed?
No.
That’s the thing. I’ve only been here two weeks, but I’ve noticed everything about Grim. I’ve definitely never noticed swelling along his spine.
“Grim, where’re the keys? We need to get you to the ER. You have huge lumps on your back.”
