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“I’ll talk to him.”
“It’s cute that you think you have any clout with a stubborn ass like that.”
That stings a little more than it should, but I pretend as though I don’t care. I hook my hand through Geneva’s arm and pull her into the cakery.
“Whoa…”
“What?” I ask, looking at Geneva with concern. “What’s wrong?”
But she’s not looking around us. She’s looking atme. “Is that a diamond?” she gasps, gawking down at my finger. “Or a boulder?”
I give her a self-conscious smile. “It’s a little big.”
Geneva clicks her tongue against her teeth. “He’s got taste, I’ll give him that. And it’s no less than you deserve.”
“I must be having a stroke, because I’m pretty sure that was a genuine compliment.” I grin and blush at the same time. “But really, thank you, Gen. Now, come on—I smell chocolate.”
The entire front-facing wall is counter space that displays a smorgasbord of cakes, pastries, and sweet treats. My nose is drowning in caramel, butter, cocoa, and every other sweet note known to man.
“Cake, Genny,” I say, gesturing towards the display case. “How can you be anything but happy when there’s cake around?”
“Because I don’t share your insane sweet tooth,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom. Or do I need your fiancé’s permission for that?”
I roll my eyes back at her and wave her away. “Happy peeing.”
I notice Kolya in conversation with someone I can’t see behind the open doors of a separate room of the café. The doors are painted with a pattern of daisies and peonies. Beyond them are three narrow tables, each of them groaning under the weight of half a dozen different cake samples.
The woman speaking to Kolya turns to me with bright eyes and an enthusiastic expression. “And this must be the future Mrs. Uvarov!” she greets, extending her hand for me to shake. “I’m Elinor Martin. It’s a pleasure.”
“The pleasure’s all mine. This is an amazing place you’ve got here.”
“It’s a family business,” she says proudly. “I’m the third generation to take over. Please, Mrs. Uvarov, take a seat.”
Have I morphed into Mrs. Uvarov already? It feels strange, but I don’t correct her. Instead, I take the seat she’s offering me beside Kolya.
“We’ve got a wide selection of savory pastries for you to whet your appetite,” Elinor tells me. “You’ll need some palette cleansers to break up all the sweetness. Can I offer you tea or coffee?”
“Tea would be wonderful, please.”
She bows her way out of the room, leaving Kolya and me alone, surrounded by cake, flowery wallpaper, and more of the flourishing green house plants. “This is… crazy,” I say, looking around the room in awe.
“If it’s not to your taste—”
“It’s perfectly to my taste.”
He nods, satisfied with my answer. I watch him carefully, refusing to drop my gaze, even when he matches it. “Something the matter?” he asks in his careless, aloof way.
“I was just thinking that for someone who claims not to care about me, you sure do seem to care about whether or not I like things.”
“I never said I didn’t care about you,” he says gruffly, almost defensively.
I raise my eyebrows. It might be the nicest thing he’s ever told me. I glance towards the open swing doors that lead to the main café, but there’s no sign of Geneva, and I have to admit, I’m relieved.
It’s not a generous thought, but I can’t help wishing that she had stayed back for this outing.
I can’t help but wish that, for just this evening, for just this moment… it could be just Kolya and me.
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