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But instead, he’s leaning back against the wall of the garage, staring up at the sky. For a moment, he looks vulnerable. I see another brief flash of the person I used to know.
“Are you all right?” I ask quietly.
Caden’s stands up straight and his jaw fills with tension again.
“Fine,” he says tightly. “Varnish fumes.”
I hope he doesn’t expect me to believe that. I stare at him, unsure of what to say. Yes, we used to be friends. We used to be so much more than that. But what are we now?
I feel that same sense of falling again as I look into his eyes. Like I can’t feel my feet on the ground anymore. Caden’s lips part but the moment drags on and he doesn’t speak.
I blink and look away. I need to get out of here, get as far away from him as possible.
“You should have your own booth,” Caden blurts out. I turn back and his expression is a little more open than before. My eyes rake over the stubble that lines his jaw.
“What?”
“Mrs. Greerson is right,” Caden says. “Reggie can help Dev out. You’re an incredible baker, Isla.”
The way he says my name makes the nape of my neck prickle. I purse my lips and try not to show how much the idea appeals to me.
“I don’t have a booth,” I point out.
“I’ll make you one.”
I raise an eyebrow. He holds my gaze evenly. I put my hands on my hips, frustrated and tempted.
“I don’t have a permit,” I say.
“Also not a problem. Finn is in charge of the permits. I’ll talk to him at dinner tonight.”
“You’ll talk to him,” I repeat. The idea is taking root now, sprouting up a slender stem in my mind. My own booth at the festival. People from all over sampling my macarons, or my peanut butter fudge brownies, or my Bakewell tarts. Ideas start to come together, piling up on each other. I could do pairings—a sweet and a savory treat matched together. I could have pastries from around the world, with a map showing where each comes from. Franzbrotchen from Germany and skerpere from Turkey. I’ve always wanted to try my hand at the Vietnamese banh pia.
Caden seems determined not to make any sudden movements. I feel a flutter at the back of my throat. I want this. I want to say yes.
“Okay,” I say.
Then I turn on my heel and hurry into the garage, throwing myself into Dad’s truck and driving off before I can think too hard about what I just agreed to.
“Your ownbooth!” Charlotte squeals, so loudly I have to hold the phone away from my ear. “Oh my god, fuckingfinally! This is amazing, Isla. What do you need? How can I help?”
I laugh. “I don’t know yet. I’m still kind of in shock.”
“It’s about damn time you stopped helping other people and started showing off your own skills,” Charlotte says. “I mean, I love that you’re so helpful, blah blah blah, but seriously. Let’s get some Isla Sparkle going on!”
“Isla Sparkle?”
“I just made it up, and it’s perfect and you know it. Wow. What brought this on?”
“Oh, um…well, Mrs. Greerson was at the garage when I was picking up Dad’s truck.”
“Ah, good old Nosy Greerson for the win. No one can say no to that woman. So how are you going to get a booth done? Is Cody making you one? I heard he’s revamping Dev’s.”
I clear my throat. “Actually, Caden is going to make mine.”
There’s a sudden silence. “I’m sorry, it sounded like you saidCadenis making your booth.”
“I did.”