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The boy gushes, excitedly jumping up and down in place. “Wow! You see that, Mommy? It’s awesome!”
“Happy Sixth Birthday, Jameson. Hey, she even spelled your name right.”
“She did! It’s so cool!” He’s examining the cake, his eyes huge and wide.
“Good, I’m really happy you like it.” I feel good right now, proud to make someone’s day. To give to someone who needed it.
“Are you sure I can’t give you anything for it. It’s really so beautiful, I don’t feel right just walking out without giving you at least a little for it.”
“No, I told you I’d make you a cake and that’s what I did. Just remember us the next time someone else needs a cake.” Winking, I smirk, and the woman nods and laughs.
“Excuse me,” Jameson asks, looking up at me. “Where’s your husband?” he shifts his head around the room, searching for someone.
“Who?” I’m confused for a moment, and I’m sure my face shows it.
He looks back over his shoulder, and then tries to stand on his toes to look behind the counter. “Your husband. Did he see my cake? Did he like it?”
“My husband?”
Arching a brow, the boy grins and rolls his head on his shoulder. “Yeah, the man that was here? He has to be your husband, you look at each other like my mommy and daddy do.”
Nick. . . He’s talking about Nick.
“Oh, no, he’s not my husband. We’re just friends, but he did love your cake.” Folding the box top closed, I hand it over to his mother. “He actually wants me to make him the same one for his next birthday.”
“Ha!” Jameson laughs out loud, and shakes his head. “He’s too old for a cake like this. Maybe one a little smaller, but not like this.”
“Yeah, I told him the same thing.”
His mom takes his hand and gives me a very grateful look. “Thank you so much for this, this is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever done for us. The cake is beautiful.”
“It’s my pleasure, I mean six is a big year, you’re almost old enough to get a job.”
The boy shakes his head and frowns. “I don’t think so, I can’t even see in the mirror without my stool.”
We all laugh, and the woman thanks me again, and leads him out. Standing back, I let myself enjoy this moment. I’m warm, happy, and tingling all over. But it’s not just because of doing something nice for someone.
It’s because this boy could see what I feel, he could see what Nick feels, he could see what I’m denying the both of us from having.
I can’t do this. I can’t pretend.
I love Nick Torro.
Throwing open the kitchen door, Vanessa stands up straight, a look of surprise on her face.
“I can’t do this,” I exclaim, keeping my eyes on hers. “Vanessa, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Go on, then.” Her voice is slightly shaky and unsure. “What’s going on?”
“I’ve fallen for Nick, like really, really fallen for him. I think I love him.” The words come tumbling out, and I can’t stop it.
Vanessa stays still, her eyes shifting between mine as the corner of her lip twitches.
“I’m so sorry, Vanessa,” I spit out, taking another step forward. “I know you said you like him, and I tried to—”
She holds up her hand, stopping me from talking. “I’m shocked,” she says sternly, her mouth slack and wrinkles forming across her forehead as her brows bend in. “I’m shocked you think I don’t already know.” She starts to smirk, and her demeanor relaxes.
“What?” I ask, unable to grasp what she’s telling me.
“Misty,” she says, stepping forward and grabbing both my wrists. “I can see it. I could see it back in New York. I’m surprised you thought I couldn’t tell.”
“I just didn’t want to hurt you. You said you liked him, and I wanted to respect that.”
“Misty,” she says my name like a mother who’s disappointed that their child didn’t know better. “You’re my best friend, and I hardly know the guy, I would never let a guy ruin our friendship.”
“Really? So you’re not mad?”
“No, I’m not mad. I’m happy for you, I’m also wondering why you’ve never baked me a cake, but we can talk about that later. Go talk to Nick, tell him how you feel. I’ll close up here and meet up with you later.”
“Oh, where would I be without you?” I ask, leaning in to hug her tight.
“Single,” she answers with a laugh. “I’m taking credit for this match making business, just so you know.”
Laughing with her, I grab my purse and phone and give her a wave before running out the door. The hotel is only a ten minute walk up the street, so I hit the pavement with heavy steps.
‘Hey, we need to talk.’ I hit send and watch the screen, waiting for him to text me back. There’s no little swirling circle or moving bubbles to indicate he’s typing.
