Page 44 of Fairy Cakes in Winter

9

Theo

Note to self: take more vacations.

The past month had been memorable and fulfilling on so many levels. I’d spent quality time with my mother, touring the local countryside, walking the dogs in Wellies, and drinking more tea than I’d ever had in my life. I’d also helped a struggling bakery launch an ad campaign that was on track to double its sales.

The balance of being with family and exploring a new country while taking on a project that validated my creative skills was incredibly rewarding.

And I’d met Scott.

Mere weeks ago, I’d clutched his hand like a lifeline on a bumpy airplane ride and now…I clutched his headboard while he fucked me. I guessed that made us friends with benefits. I wasn’t sure, though.

This was a first for me. I’d never had a sexual arrangement that wasn’t tied to an actual relationship. And I’d never been with anyone like Scott. He was charming and engaging, but he could also be quiet and broody with sharp edges and dark corners he protected like a feral cat.

Don’t get me wrong—he was never unkind. He was just…cautious in his personal interactions. And extremely focused. No doubt there was a story or two behind his reticence, but it wasn’t my place to prod.

Without setting any real rules, we both understood that our “arrangement” was about sex. Technically, it was professional too. Scott insisted on drawing a marketing consultant contract to compensate me when the fairy cakes started to take off. So I supposed I worked for him.

But sex was the catalyst here. And I was perfectly content with that. In fact, I was like Pavlov’s dog the second the seemingly harmless two-word text lit my screen. Because yes, fairy cakes were our code.

At breakfast.

Fairy Cakes.

At the train station.

Fairy Cakes.

Standing on the sidewalk in front of the bakery.

Fairy Cakes.

Our inside joke had taken on a life of its own. This wasn’t just about lightly frosted cupcakes anymore. I wasn’t even sure it was only sex, either.

With every passing day we spent marketing and strategizing, and every minute we spent groping and writhing in his bed, I could feel a subtle shift between us.

It was beginning to worry me.

The other day, I came by the bakery later than I’d intended. Mom had taken me on a day trip to Brighton where we’d walked the pier, visited the Royal Pavilion, and had tea at an adorable shop in town. On the way home, I asked her to drop me off in Bath so I could check on “things.”

She’d given me a sardonic look, but agreed, saying she was curious about the bakery and wanted to see it before the pop-up popped off. Her words, not mine. I’d groaned on cue, then stared out the window at the field of rolling green dotted with sheep, mulling over the temporariness of…everything.

Scott’s lease in Bath, my time in England. It would all end soon.

It was always going to end, but it made me feel unbearably sad. I didn’t want to leave. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be an accountant anymore. And though I knew the pop-up was just an experiment, it didn’t seem right to walk away when the bakery was thriving. In winter, no less. It all felt…wrong.

I’d shrugged off my melancholy mood in time to introduce my mom to my lover.

And you know, it had gone pretty well.

“Oh, I love everything about this place!” She’d turned in a slow circle to take in the shelves stocked with traditional teas, the classic books I’d pulled quotes from, and of course, the display case filled with cakes, biscuits, pies, buns, and…fairy cakes. “I’ve heard about the famous fairy cakes.”

Scott had smiled. “Theo convinced me to try fairy cakes. I didn’t think fairy cakes would be a best seller. I was wrong. Our customers love fairy cakes.”

She’d oohed and ahhed, asked for a few baking tips, purchased the last two slices of red velvet cake, and thanked Scott for adding a couple of complimentary fairy cakes. Then Mom shook his hand, waved good-bye to Joanne, and kissed my cheek before taking her goodies and hitting the road.

“Congratulations. You fit ‘fairy cakes’ into every other sentence…in front of my mother,” I’d groused, making sure Joanne was out of earshot.