Page 120 of Wrong Pucking Player

Not like I care.

He can carry whatever he wants as long as he keeps smelling so fucking good.

“Yup.”

He doesn’t let me go as I reach for the bag and notice it’s insulated to keep whatever is inside chilled.

Pulling it out has my eyes growing massive as I squeal in delight.

“NO FUCKING WAY!” I scream and put the item in the sky like it’s Simba from The Lion King being shown to the kingdom. “HOW?!”

No wonder why this man is holding onto me. I’d be jumping up and down like a fool if he wasn’t.

Doesn’t stop me because I spin in his hold and jump like a squealing cheerleader.

“THIS IS MY ALL-TIME FAVORITE DESSERT!” I’m out of his hold and finding Wyatt, who’s watching the chaos happen. He looks more surprised if anything, which encourages me to skip over to him to show the ultimate goods.

“WYATT! This!” I have to take a moment to use my hand to wave it above the tray of dessert. “Is the best cake in the world! No. In the Universe!”

“What cake is that?” He looks confused as he tilts his head and takes a closer look at the cake in the clear tray.

“Don’t be disgusted by it, but it’s Birthday Carrot Cake Supreme!” I cheer in delight. “So, the exterior looks like a typical carrot cake, only it has confetti rainbow sprinkles on top, which you pour caramel and white chocolate syrup on top!” Just trying to explain it is making me drool as I recall the savoring sweet piece of cake I haven’t had in years.

“When you cut the inside, that’s when you realize it’s two cake flavors in one! The orange with carrot flakes in one layer and then birthday madness in the other. Just going back and forth from average sweet to SUPER sweet,” I exclaim. “To top it off is whipped cream with a side order of supreme ice cream! I don’t think this one comes with that, but the cake itself is to DIE for!”

“The ice cream is here,” Armani points out.

I look to see him taking it out of the black insulated bag with the white chocolate and caramel syrups in mini containers. I’m squealing and back at the island before I place the dessert carefully to ensure its perfection will be maintained.

“How did you know?!” I finally confront Armani as I spin around to point a finger his way. “No one else knows. Plus, they don’t make it anymore. The last time they served this was when I was sixteen, and they only did it ‘cause it was my birthday.”

“That,” Armani replies, leaving me confused.

“That?”

“What you just said.”

“My birthday at sixteen?” I repeat and pause to think about it. “I didn’t have a birthday party or anything.”

“I know,” Armani admits. “That was the year Johnson wasn’t around. Was mourning her mom’s death, right?” I’m surprised he recalls that. “You didn’t celebrate your birthday but decided to check the bakery if they had that cake. The last slice was sold, and you didn’t have money to pay for them to make an entire cake.”

Holy shit. He’s right…

“You… wait… you were there… at the bakery shop.”

“Yup,” he admits and shrugs. “Winchester was there picking up some grand cake shit for his huge celebration for winning his junior league game, so I was there and overheard.”

“Yeah.” The memory makes me frown because I recall how Winchester and a few of his rich friends laughed at me for not being able to afford to get a cake baked. “It wasn’t my fault I didn’t have fifty bucks for a cake… but wait…” The more I think about it, the more I’m beginning to remember what happened afterward. When it finally dawns on me, I’m gawking up at him.

“YOU!” I point right into his chest. “You… bought it for me. The whole cake. With candles… and presented it to me in front of the store before they closed.”

Now I remember clearly. I was so depressed and tried to contact my aunt if she could come by to buy the cake. She said she’d do her best, and I waited with anticipation she’d keep her promise.

But she never showed up.

There on the curb, with five minutes until closing, I sat there with tears in my eyes, realizing this would be the first year I didn’t get any sort of dessert to celebrate my birthday. Even if I wasn’t loved by my own parents, I wanted to celebrate my own birth. Even if it was just something sweet that made me smile.

“The cake was freshly made… their last order of the day, and you came to pick it up, only to see me still sitting there after hours. You came out with the cake on a platter with sixteen candles, and we ate it together…” I have to stop so I don’t get teary-eyed.

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