Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 151044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
“His prices were ridiculous. He totally started up-charging us the second he heard your name.”
“Price isn’t an issue”
“It’s the principle. Plus, he was a flat earther.”
“The guy with the beard?”
“Yes.”
“Do we care?”
“Conspiracy theories aside, do you really want to be married by a chipper hipster who looks like a clerk at Trader Joe’s? That’s not really on brand with your vibe.”
“Definitely not. You’re right. Keep him off the list. What about the officiant out of Brooklyn from Josette’s list?”
“No. He does clown gigs on the side. You know I suffer from coulrophobia.”
“Right. No side hustle clowns at the wedding. I’ll email Quinn for more suggestions. Maybe when you’re in New York you can hold a few interviews.”
Wonderful, more solo decision-making. “I need boots. Last time we were in the city my feet were freezing. Not to mention I’m leaving tomorrow morning and still have nothing packed. You know what that means.”
Sensing the opening to yet another Production of Rayne The Musical, Hale sighed.
I searched my music and cued up the Beastie Boys. Poor Hale hadn’t had control over his radio since his penis met my vagina. But he never complained.
As I belted out the lyrics of No Sleep ‘til Brooklyn, I noticed we weren’t taking the usual roads home. Hale made a slight turn and I stared at the unfamiliar surroundings.
“Where are we going?”
“I have a surprise for you.” He pulled into a little parking lot near a brick strip mall.
“This wasn’t on the wedding itinerary for the day.”
He shut off the car and grabbed my hand. “You mean this itinerary?”
Officiant 11 am
was scribbled on the back of my hand in black ink. I shrugged. “I didn’t want to forget.”
“You’ll like this.” He came around to my door and opened it.
“What is this place? Why the secrecy?”
“If I told you, it would have distracted you all throughout our last meeting. I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Good surprise or bad surprise?”
I had flashbacks to my childhood when my mom would take me out for a fun day only to surprise me midway through with a trip to the doctor. I’d spend the rest of the day nursing a sore arm and sulking over a lollipop.
He frowned as if he’d never think to give me a bad surprise. “It’s a good one.”
“You could have told me. What is it? Are my clothes okay? Should I have brought anything?”
“This is exactly why I wanted it to be a surprise.”
I huffed. “You act like I have no self-control.”
He grinned as we walked hand in hand toward the back of a brick building. “In areas such as this, you don’t.”
Then I smelled it. “Oh, my God.”
He tugged my hand. “Keep walking.”
“Is this what I think it is?” The scent of sugar and carbs wafted from the fogged windows. I doubled my pace. “Holy shit. Are we having a cake tasting?”
“Yup. The owner of the bakery’s been preparing all day.”
“Oh, my God. But wait… If the bakery’s here, how can we use them in New York?”
“He also has a location in the city. They’re family owned and they’ve been in business for almost fifty years.”
“How many cakes do we get to taste? Will there be chocolate? I heard grooms get a chocolate cake. I don’t know if that’s just for the guys, but as the bride I think I should be entitled to taste every dessert. It’s my wedding after all.”
“There will be plenty of chocolate.”
We rounded the building and entered from the front, despite the sign on the glass showing CLOSED, Hale walked right in. A delicate bell jingled overhead and the delicious scent of heaven drove me close to orgasm.
The bakery section was dim and empty. “The owner’s waiting for us.”
“It’s a private tasting?” The displays were more seductive than porn. “Look at all of this, Hale.” I turned and smiled at him. “I feel like the winner of a golden ticket.”
Hale rang the antique bell on the counter.
A little old man wearing a white muffin top hat appeared. “Monsieur and the soon-to-be Madame Davenport, welcome!”
“Chef Dubois,” Hale greeted, holding out his hand. “Let me introduce you to your soon-to-be-number-one-fan, my fiancée, Rayne.”
The baker smiled, his dark eyes hidden by bushy, grey eyebrows. “Bonjour, bonjour.”
He waved us toward a small table, intentionally placed in front of the window and dressed like it belonged on a Disney set with a white tablecloth, two black wrought iron chairs, and a single yellow rose in a bud vase. Blue linen napkins had been folded neatly beneath several silver spoons. I was in heaven.
The stout chef carried a carafe of cool milk to the table with two glasses. “Make yourselves comfortable. I’m just finishing up some last-minute touches. Excusez-moi for a moment.”
“Take your time,” Hale said as he pulled out my chair.
I eyed the glass displays and all the colorful confections as I sat. “There’s so many spoons.”