Page 26 of How Sweet It Is (Willow Shade Island #3)

I ’m halfway through finishing the last batch of Bananageddon, my popular chocolate-espresso-banana cupcakes, when the swinging door slams open so hard it rattles the spice rack.

I flinch, the piping bag jerking in my hand, and end up giving this poor cupcake a banana-frosting mohawk. “Well, hey there, hurricane Kiki.”

She storms in, all messy bun and frantic eyes, clutching her phone like it personally offended her. “Don’t make fun of me. I’m having a crisis.”

I set down the piping bag. “What’s up? Are you having a baking emergency?”

“It’s the cake,” she blurts out. “The wedding cake.”

My brows shoot up. “You’re changing the flavor again?”

She groans and throws herself onto the stool by the prep counter like a soap opera star swooning onto a fainting couch. “Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know. What if the three-tier is too much? What if it’s not enough? What if everyone hates carrot cake? What if I hate carrot cake?”

I lean my hip against the counter and cross my arms. “You picked carrot cake because Tobias likes it.”

“Well, I changed my mind. I think. Carrot is too… carrot-y.” She slaps her hands to her cheeks like she’s trying to physically hold her head together. “Ugh, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Pre-wedding panic?” I offer.

She huffs. “It’s not the wedding. It’s—” She cuts herself off and frowns at her phone. “Okay, it’s partly the wedding. But also Skyler.”

Ah. I walk over to the sink, rinse yellow frosting off my fingers, and give her a moment.

“I haven’t told her yet,” she admits, her voice softer now. “About me. About… being her mom.”

I glance over. Her shoulders are curled in like she’s trying to disappear into herself. “You still have time.”

“Six days.”

“Plenty of time,” I say. “She’s five. She doesn’t even know how long that is.”

Kiki lets out a small, miserable laugh. “She’s smarter than you think.”

“She’s your kid. Of course she is.”

She lifts her eyes to mine, and for a second, I see how much this is eating her up. And maybe focusing on the cake is easier than facing the thing that might break her heart.

“I’m scared, Levi.”

“I know. But don’t worry. Skyler adores you. You know this. She will be thrilled with the news.”

Her voice grows quiet. “But I’m not ready for all the questions. Why I had to give her up. Who her father is and where he is.” She groans.

I know she doesn’t want me to come in and try to solve this for her, so I don’t say anything.

It will all work out anyway. I know it will.

Silence stretches between us for a beat, and then she sits up straighter, shakes her head like she’s throwing off the fog, and narrows her eyes at me. “Enough about me. What about you?”

I blink. “What about me?”

“Who are you bringing to the wedding?”

I snort. “We’re doing this now?”

“Yes, we’re doing this now. You have six days to find a date, and if you say you’re coming solo, I will personally glue you to someone at the reception.”

I grin at the mental image. “Sounds painful.”

She points at me. “Ask Amelia.”

I pause, hand still on the edge of the sink. “What?”

Kiki smirks like she caught me midblush, which I did not do, thank you very much. “You heard me.”

“I’m not asking her to a wedding. That’s a big deal. That’s next level.”

“Next level?” she echoes, mocking me. “This isn’t a marriage proposal, it’s a party with cake. You like cake. She likes cake. You already flirt like you’re in a rom-com. Just ask her.”

“I can’t just ask her. What if she says no?”

Kiki rolls her eyes. “You’ve asked out every girl in the universe, Levi. Grow a pair.”

I sigh, dragging a hand through my hair. “Fine. Maybe.”

She grins. “Maybe means yes.”

“Maybe means maybe.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” She hops off the stool, already less frantic than when she walked in. “Now, about the cake. I’m thinking chocolate. Or lemon. Or what’s that one you did with the raspberry filling?”

“Oh no,” I mutter, reaching for the piping bag again. “Just pick one. It doesn’t matter. It’s just cake.”

She stares at me. “Yeah, it’s only my wedding. My one and only wedding. Doesn’t matter at all.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” I say, softening. “I mean, whatever you choose will be amazing, and you’ll have a happily ever after no matter what flavor you decide on.”

“All right. I’ll make a decision. Chocolate cake. There. That’s my final decision.”

I smirk at her.

“What?”

“It’s the one you started with.”

She laughs. “You’re right. I’m being silly. Just think about what I said. I’d love for Amelia to be there.”

I pick up a towel and snap it at her. “Let me handle my own dating life.”

“Then stop hedging and do it right.” Kiki waves at me before leaving out the front.

The problem is, I can’t stop thinking about that kiss and the feelings it brought up in me. Yet the way Amelia acted afterward tells me she regretted it as soon as it was done. The end. She even said those words to me. There’s nothing else to say now.

I’m elbow deep in ganache when I hear the creak of the swinging door. Not the bursting-open kind announcing Kiera or the rattle of the delivery guy dropping off flour. This is the quieter kind. The Amelia kind.

I don’t look up, mostly because I’m still mad at her. Or pretending to be. My pride’s a little bruised, and my ego’s in a full-body cast.

She doesn’t say anything right away, just stands there, probably watching me like I’m some puzzle she still can’t solve.

Finally, she clears her throat. “Hey.”

I scrape the spatula along the bowl a little harder than I need to. “Hey.”

Silence again. I let it stretch, hoping it might strangle the awkward right out of the room. No such luck.

“I made you coffee,” she says, walking over and setting it on the counter like a peace offering. It’s the Smoky Mountain blend I ordered in. It’s a bold roast with notes of dark chocolate with a smoky edge, and it’s now my favorite.

I glance at it. “Bribery?”

She looks at the floor. “More like an apology. Just… caffeine-filled.”

I arch a brow but don’t respond. She fiddles with the sleeve of her business suit jacket like it personally betrayed her.

“I’ve been thinking about last night,” she says, eyes glued to the countertop.

I go very still, every cell in my body suddenly tuned to her frequency.

“And I wanted to say I’m sorry for the way I handled it. I was awkward and defensive, and I said things I didn’t mean.”

“Like how the kiss wasn’t good?” I ask, sharper than I intend.

Her head snaps up. “I didn’t mean that.”

I meet her eyes, and for once, she doesn’t look away. “You sure sold it like you did.”

“I panicked,” she says softly. “It scared me.”

“What? The kiss?”

“No. You. ” Her voice wavers then steadies. “I didn’t expect it to feel like that. Like I was standing on the edge of something real and if I took one more step, I’d fall.”

I blink. Okay. Not the response I saw coming.

“I make jokes when I’m scared,” she adds, voice quiet. “It’s what I do.”

“I noticed.”

She winces. “You were right to be mad.”

I set the bowl down and wipe my hands on a towel just to have something to do. “I wasn’t mad.”

She raises a brow.

“Okay, fine. I was… something. Disappointed, maybe? I don’t kiss people for fun, Amelia.”

“Sure you do. That’s totally what you do.”

I stare at her. She’s right. But last night was different. “Not you,” I say quietly.

Her breath hitches, and for a moment, neither of us says a word. I lean back against the counter and force a half smile. “Anyway, apology accepted. And thanks for the coffee. I didn’t sleep well last night, and I need it.”

She gives a small nod and starts to turn away.

I stop her. “Wait.”

She looks back.

“So, uh. Kiki’s wedding. It’s in six days.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“I’m going.”

“Obviously.”

“And I was wondering…” I pause, hating how unsure I suddenly feel. “Do you want to go with me?”

“I have to run the register. Kiera’s the maid of honor.”

“I’m closing the shop. I’m the owner, and I can do that. So, will you go with me?”

She blinks. “As your date?”

I see what she’s going to say next, and backpedal. “No. Not a date, as a friend. Just… as a ‘someone who makes terrible jokes but still somehow manages to get under my skin’ kind of friend.”

Her lips curve. “Wow. You sure know how to sweet-talk a girl.”

“I’m serious, Amelia. Kiki wants you there. I thought we’d save us both the trouble of finding dates. Unless you want to ask your handsy cousin.”

She cringes. “No.”

“Then…?”

She hesitates for a second then nods. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll go. As friends.”

Relief hits me like a warm breeze. I didn’t even realize I was so concerned about her answer.

She turns again to leave but then glances over her shoulder. “For the record, that kiss? It was really, really good.”

I smirk. “You sure? Because I seem to remember you comparing it to gas station sushi.”

“I was trying to protect my emotional well-being.”

“By insulting my kissing skills?”

She grins. “Desperate times.”

And just like that, something inside me eases. Maybe she’s not ready to admit what this is right now, but she’s still here. Still choosing to walk back in.

That’s something.

It might even be enough.