Page 48 of Love at Teamsgiving
I’ll admit that I’ve been doing the same. That whole thing about how it takes one to know one. Her hair is down today, cascading over her shoulders in soft waves. Her eyes are smoky as usual and sheer gloss coats her lips, reminding me of cherries. She’s wearing a dark red sweater and jeans that tease her ankles. Give me ankles, wrists, and everything in between. Junie is a brunette bombshell.
There’s no denying that I still have feelings for her. Big ones. There’s ride or die and then there’s till death do us part. I want that one.
CK says, “I have one more special flavor in mind, but I’ll have to ask you to come back this evening.” His penetrating gaze doesn’t waver from Junie.
Her lips press into a thin line and she gets to her feet. “You know, I’m having second thoughts about Erica and Shane having a cake. Miguel, what do you think of a dessert bar?”
I have no idea what that is, but I’ve never heard of a better idea. “One hundred percent.”
CK peers down his nose as if it’s beneath him. “That’s very last season.”
I bump her elbow with mine. “I like it when you speak your mind.”
“I’m speaking on Erica’s behalf. She loves cupcakes and macarons. Plus, it’s a Thanksgiving-themed wedding, so we should probably have pie. Pumpkin, apple, pecan ...”
CK utters, “Abominations to baking.”
My pinky grips hers. “I love it when you talk pie.”
She squeezes back like it’s her lone grip on normalcy. “CK, thank you for your time and the samples of, um, your creations. We’ll be in touch if we need anything further?—”
“My name is CK,” he says, pronouncing the wordcake. “For I am The Cake.”
I do everything in my power not to break down laughing, which probably makes me look like a gorilla that just swallowed a firecracker.
Pinkies linked, we race out of there and onto the street.
When we reach the car, Junie says, “He said that he’s the cake.”
We both start laughing.
When I catch my breath, I say, “He had a fake French accent.”
“How do you know?”
“I’m trilingual.”
“French isn’t one of the languages you speak.”
“Trust me, he was trying to impress you.”
“With his shoestring mustache?”
I can’t suppress my grin because Junie likes hair. A lot of it.
I fluff mine a little. “I do need a haircut.”
“Nice to change the subject toyou.”
“Would you prefer that I talk about CK’s luscious passion for dough?”
She spurts a laugh. “Did that bother you?”
“I hope it bothered you. I can imagine he has some creepy altar in his closet in homage to the cake gods.”
“You’re probably right. Forget about him. What are we going to do about the cake?”
I contemplate what to say next because I love the idea of us doing something aside from planning someone else’s wedding.
