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“What does that have to do with you being a good brother?”
“Oh, she didn’t tell you?” Archer arrives on my other side, a matching glass of champagne in his hand. “That’s when she’ll be meeting your fiancée.”
“Junie?” Now I’m confused. “Stop being so fucking obtuse. Why would Junie be there?”
Patton smirks. “Oh,Junie, is it?”
“Shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”
He rolls his eyes and wanders back toward the window.
Archer slaps me on the back.
“I thought you knew,” he says with forced joviality. “Mom went to the bakery today—Sugar Tongs or whatever it’s called—to meet your lady and invite her in person. Pretty sure she’s on her way right now.”
“Now?” My mouth goes desert dry.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Of all the times Mom had to strike, this is the worst.
She’ll be as overly excited as a damn dog with a bone.
And Junie doesn’t have any warning.
She’ll probably be pissed at me, and for good reason. The art show she’s supposed to attend is this weekend with basically no notice.
“I need to go. Make my excuses,” I tell Archer, shoving my glass at him and charging out the door. The elevator will probably take too long, so I barrel down the stairs, throwing myself around corners with the help of the handrail so I don’t go crashing down and breaking my spine.
Goddammit.
One day.
I leave Junie alone forone dayand my overexcited mom has to come along and ruin everything.
I just have to hope I can still get there in time.
13
SWEET NOTHINGS (JUNIPER)
Today’s been a crush.
Actually, every day this past week.
Business keeps picking up since I signed that deal with Dexter—as much as part of me hates to admit it—and I’m even looking at hiring a few new part-timers to keep up so I can extend the store’s summer hours.
I’m way over capacity keeping up with these orders coming in, cupcakes and pastries for what feels like half the real estate and travel offices in town.
That’s the Dexter Rory effect again.
Honestly, I’m not complaining.
For the first time since opening this place, I’ve got plans. Real concrete plans that just need finalizing, but they’re visions of where we could go.
WhereIcould go.
I lose myself in ideas as I fly around the kitchen, supervising our endless custard supply, setting several mixers going as I make three more cakes and some pasty for the lemon tarts that need to go in the oven soon.
