Page 161 of The Wedding Menu

“Hmm—nope.” He spits it into a napkin, then dramatically sticks his tongue out. “I’m not having this at my wedding.”

Fair enough. I was probably shooting a little too high with the hazelnuts and cinnamon. “More for me,” I say, and pull the plate closer. Moving a slice of red velvet in front of him, I nod in encouragement. “You’ll love this one.”

“Hmm.”

Okay, so I probably shouldn’t have mentioned his father. It’sa recipe for bad moods lately. The thing is, I see the way it affects him. I can pinpoint the exact moment William comes to his mind, because his eyes fill with grief and nostalgia. I hate to see him like that, and, just as importantly, I don’t think his father will ever stop harassing me with his apology texts unless they have a conversation.

“You can take your time,” I say softly as I set my fork down. “But at some point you’ll have to talk to him, right? Forgive and forget?”

“Yes. And it’s not like I don’t miss him. But every time I think about talking to him, I remember what he did to you, and…”

I notice the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down, then the thick emotions in his eyes, and put my hand on his. “In his twisted way, he did it to protect you.”

“I know he did, but…” He blinks faster, his jaw tensing. “I need more time.”

“No Mayfield, then. Not until you’re ready.”

I set the empty plate aside, then dig into the red velvet cake. I’m glad I didn’t have any lunch, because I won’t be leaving this table until all eight slices of cake are gone. I might lick the plates too. This guy really knows his baking.

“So where’s our honeymoon bringing us next?”

I smile, tilting my head as I think of potential stops between Roseberg and Creswell. “There’s Willow Falls. I was just reading an article about this amusement park they opened nearby.”

“Sold,” he says immediately, his bad mood only a memory now. “We can leave tomorrow.”

Just as he digs his fork into the red velvet cake, the door to the bakery opens, and Heaven, the baker’s wife, comes out with a tray filled to the brim. She distributes the orders around the courtyard, which is nearly full of customers even though it’salmost closing time, then comes over to our table. “How are you guys doing?”

I turn to Ian, who looks like he’s about to spit out another piece of cake, and widen my eyes in warning until he swallows. “We’re doing great. Your husband is a marvelous baker.”

“It makes up for his grumpiness.”

Using the occasion to excuse myself, I walk back into the bakery, where Shane, the baker, is serving a client. He turns to me. “Bathroom’s the first door to the right.”

“Oh, no. I don’t need the bathroom. I actually wanted to…” His dark eyes pierce mine, and I lose track of my thoughts for a second. This guy can be intimidating. “I wanted to compliment you on your desserts. I worked as a chef for fifteen years and I don’t think I’ve ever eaten better cakes than the ones you served us today.”

He blushes slightly as he closes a paper box, hands it to the man waiting on the other side of the counter, and says, “Thank you.” Then, turning, he gives me a warm smile and says, “And thankyou.”

“You’re welcome.”

I approach the counter, studying the pastries behind the plexiglass. There are rows of his famous homemade Oreos, and though I’ve never tried one, I’ve seen them on social media plenty. They went viral a while back, and they’ve been all over the web since.

“Where do you work?”

“Hmm?”

“You said you’re a chef?” He cocks a brow. “Where?”

“Oh, not right now. Ian and I plan to open something together one day, but… we’ve been enjoying being married and free for a while. He’s working as a consultant here and there, and I’m…”I shrug, smiling dreamily. “I’m on a mission to have him try all vegetables at least once.”

Shane settles both hands on the counter. “I take it he’s not a chef.”

“Definitely not.” I look at the croissants. “European butter?”

“Of course. European dessert.”

With a smile, I nod. I like Shane.

I walk back to the garden, where Heaven has taken my seat at the table, and it sounds like they’re talking about movies. As soon as Ian sees me, his smile widens, and his eyes take on their usual glimmer once they settle on me. It’s unmistakable. “Hey, wife. Is everything all right?”