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My palms go clammy. I wipe them on my thighs, praying I don’t have flour lodged under my fingernails.
“I’m sorry to drop in again,” she says, correctly reading the expression on my face. “But if I had to wait for my lump of a son to make an introduction, I’d be here another five years. How long has it been?”
Yikes.
What do I even say?
If we stick to our original story, it’s too fast for any reasonable person to get engaged. But she knows we are, so I can’t deviate from the original story or we’ll be doubly screwed.
“Um, a while. It’s easy to lose track!” I manage. “Why don’t you take a seat while I finish up with some stuff and join you? Would you like a coffee? On the house, of course. And the caramel-apple tortes are delicious if you’re interested in having a bite.”
She looks at the cases filled with treats so perfectly glazed they shine, and I wonder if she’s like Dexter.
I might shrivel up and die.
If she hates sweet stuff, if she’s a health freak like her son, I shouldn’t have said a word about those tortes.
“That would be lovely,” she says with a million-dollar smile as her eyes meet mine again. “We can’t live the low-carb life every day. Where’s the fun in that?”
I laugh a little too loudly, relieved, and catch myself before I look like a crazy person.
So I put the kid on the register in charge of the coffee, grab a couple tortes, and stick my apron in the back before I pop into the bathroom.
My hair’s a lost cause, so I just run my fingers through it to comb out the snarls before taking off the cap and pretending like I haven’t been sweating in a hot kitchen all day.
“Sorry, Mrs. Rory. It’s been busy today,” I say as I join her at the table in the corner.
“Please, call me Delly, and don’t you dare apologize.” She accepts the torte with a grateful smile. “Looks like business is booming.”
“Things are looking up,” I admit.
“I’m so glad. Dexter skips out on dessert, but it’s my opinion that dinner isn’t complete without a sweet escape at the end.” She takes a tiny, delicate bite and her eyes widen. “Wow. Oh, wow, dear, this isincredible. Why did I ever put off coming back here? I’m sad to say this is the first time I’ve been to the Sugar Bowl since I was a child. My father adored this place, back when Jo Winkley was always in the papers.”
“Better late than never! And yeah, that’s my grandmother. She’s enjoying her retirement now.” I laugh brightly, still too aware that Delly’s grace outshines any words I can string together. “And yes, it’s been too long coming, meeting like this. But you know Dexter, even better than I do…”
Monster understatement.
“Yes, sometimes to my own detriment,” she says flatly. “Can you believe he didn’t tell me he was dating? If my youngest hadn’t opened his mouth, I might not have found out until your wedding day. Oh, is there a date yet?”
I shake my head furiously.
“Um, no. We’ve barely started planning. Things only got serious pretty recently, I guess, so you weren’t missing much.”
She glances down at my hand—and my bare ring finger. “It must be very recent indeed.”
Shit, I regret not putting it on.
“Oh, yes, yes,extremelyrecent.” I follow her gaze and a flush runs up my neck to my cheek. “I’m still not used to wearing the ring at work, if you wondered, but I always keep it on me.” I reach into my pocket and pull out the box, opening it and showing her the ring inside, praying no one at the register can see. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”
Her eyes widen with awe as she takes in the blue stone surrounded by its halo of diamonds.
“Magnificent,” she breathes. “Let’s see it on.”
My stomach tightens, giving me the same feeling I had when Dexter slipped it on my finger for the first time. This is getting way too real for a fake out.
It still fits perfectly, of course.
The blue complements my skin nicely in the daylight. Again, I’m reminded just how perfect this ring is—and how brilliant Dexter Rory is at picking out jewelry that makes my heart skip.
