Page 2 of Ice & Sweet

CHAPTER TWO

Luke

I woke up to a soft dusting of snow scattered across London like someone had gone a bit overboard with icing sugar. I groaned as soon as I saw it out of the kitchen window because, although it was pretty, it was going to make getting out of the city more difficult than escaping the ninth circle of hell.

I shoved an old, chipped Pride mug from a collection Kane and I had been the face of years ago into place on my coffee maker and hit the button while I threw together a bowl of chocolate cherry porridge, because one thing I’d learnt over the years was that I needed breakfast to function. If not, I’d turn into an absolute monster that could only be pacified with carbs and sugar.

It was not long past six, a lie-in for me, but as I watched the snow fall outside the window, I almost wished I’d gotten up as usual.

I still needed to have a shower and throw the last of my toiletries in my suitcase before packing everything in my car, driving to the bakery, and collecting the cake and all the extras I needed to take with me to finish it. If I was lucky, I could be on the road to Swallow Hill in the Cotswolds by nine.

Technically I should be there by twelve then, but that was without traffic and I had a sinking feeling that all would not be well on the M4.

Fuck, why couldn’t Kane and Austin have picked somewhere in London for their wedding instead of dragging me halfway across the country with a sodding three-tiered cake twelve days before Christmas in a country that ground to a fucking halt whenever snow was so much as mentioned!

Why couldn’t they have done what all rich gay celebrities did and get married on some beautiful Mediterranean or tropical island instead?

I continued grumbling to myself as I ate, drank my coffee, showered, packed, poured more coffee laced with a truly terrifying amount of salted caramel syrup into a giant travel mug, and shoved everything into my car. Sometimes, making a lot of money before you were twenty-five and had discovered your true passion had its perks, and those were being able to buy a small flat, a car, and outfit my own custom kitchen in London without having to sell my soul, my kidneys, or my liver.

Yes, all three of them had put a massive dent in my bank balance and made my parents, who’d been expecting to live a life of luxury off my earnings for the rest of their lives, cry, but it had been worth it.

For one thing, it meant I wasn’t beholden to anyone except myself.

And for another, it meant I’d discovered that my parents only viewed me as a cash machine and I’d been able to cut them off before they’d bankrupted me themselves. That whole process had been ugly, messy, and horrifically toxic, and even though I was glad I’d stood up for myself and chosen the life I wanted, there were times I still felt guilty.

“No, we’re not doing this today,” I said to myself as I lifted my suitcase and suit bag into the boot of my car, which was already switched on and warming up, the snow steaming as it melted off the heated windscreen. “We’re going to Kane’s wedding and we’re going to have a great time and we’re going to find some cute porn star to make us forget that we’re a single pringle at Christmas. Again.”

I scraped the rest of the snow off the windows before climbing into the front seat and running through a quick mental checklist to make sure I had everything before I headed to the bakery.

List complete, I trundled the car out into the road and set off. As predicted, snow had begun settling on the roads and since this wasn’t central London, there wasn’t enough traffic around to immediately melt it. I assumed the roads had been gritted, but I didn’t know how much good it would do.

I knew the rest of the world made fun of us for not knowing how to drive in the snow and the fact everything immediately ground to a halt for what half the world would consider a normal spring day, but I could count on one hand the times I’d had to drive in this weather over the past three years. There was no point investing in shit like snow tyres or chains. And if I did, I had no fucking clue how to actually put them on.

It didn’t take me as long to reach the bakery as I’d thought and past me had done a good job of packing everything up last night so I’d be ready to go this morning. All I had to do was carefully slide the cake into a box, which I had down to an art form by now, and put it and the box of decorations and tools into the car. I’d put the passenger seat of my car all the way forward so I could wedge the cake box into the footwell behind it, using some clean towels to hold it in place.

Usually, if I was doing a delivery in London, I’d have one of my assistants with me to help keep an eye on it, but this was a solo mission and I couldn’t help but feel a stab of anxiety as I put the address of the wedding venue into my maps app. If something went wrong and the cake box slid or fell, then the cake inside would be fucked. And sure, I could work some miracles but I wasn’t Jesus.

“We’re not worrying about that either,” I muttered as I gave everything a final once-over before I set off. I took a long swig of a coffee, ridiculously glad I’d packed myself another one, pulled a playlist I knew would give me energy, and shared my location with Kane.

Luke

In case you want to stalk me. Just leaving the bakery now so should be with you about lunchtime if the motorway isn’t a shit show. It’s snowing here though so who knows x

Kane

Drive safe and we’ll see you soon. No rush at all, I’d rather you made it in one piece x

I grinned to myself because he definitely seemed calmer this morning and I wondered exactly what Austin had done to calm him down. Or maybe Kane had finally accepted that it was too late to change anything and what would be, would be, and all that jazz. Still, I really hoped it wouldn’t take me much longer than the suggested time because I had to keep the car cool to stop the buttercream from melting, which meant I was already wearing a thick jumper and debating whether I needed to stick my fingerless gloves on to keep my hands from freezing to the steering wheel.

I decided against the gloves for now and put my phone into the holder I’d stuck on the dashboard.

Two hours and fifty-six minutes: piece of cake.

Sitting on the M4 in a standstill queue of traffic, I began to re-evaluate my life choices. Or at least I began to re-evaluate what scenarios I applied the words “piece of cake” to, especially in advance. I’d already been sat here for at least an hour and had moved maybe fifty feet in that time. According to my traffic app, there was a serious accident ahead blocking the road, and I cursed myself for not following the suspicions in my gut when I’d woken up and thought the M4 would be a mess.

At least it had stopped snowing.

I sighed and looked at my phone again, scrolling across the map to see if the red section looked clear at any point, but it only seemed to have gotten bigger. And to make matters worse I was out of coffee, starving, freezing, and in desperate need of a wee. I tried to see how far I was from the nearest exit in case there was a way I could sneak off and round, but that was a bust. The nearest services wasn’t too far, but that still relied on the traffic starting to move.

“This is bollocks,” I said, resting my head against the window and sighing as I opened my WhatsApp thread with Kane.

Luke

Why couldn’t you have gotten married in London?

Kane

Traffic still bad then? You haven’t moved in a while

Luke

Are you watching me?

Kane

You gave me your location!

Kane

You’re hungry, aren’t you?

I snorted. He knew me too well.

Luke

Little bit. Don’t worry, I haven’t started on the cake

Luke

Yet…

Kane

Haha I’d understand if you had to

I frowned and pursed my lips, playful suspicion rising in my gut. That seemed too chill, even for a blissed-out Kane. There was no way he could have gone from spamming me with calls and panicking about everything under the sun to telling me he understood if I had to eat the wedding cake.

Luke

Wait… Austin, is that you? Did you steal Kane’s phone?

Kane

No, it’s me.

Luke

Not sure I believe you but okay.

I didn’t believe him at all but I didn’t get a chance to question it because I glanced up and suddenly realised the traffic in front of me was starting to move. Thank fuck! I didn’t know if it would be far or fast, but it was something at least. I rammed my phone into the holder and pulled myself back into a sitting position as I began to ease the car forward. Overhead, the sky had turned dark grey, thick clouds rolling in from behind as if they’d followed me from London.

I prayed I could get a little further down the road before it started snowing again.

To my surprise, the traffic kept trundling forward. It was a snail’s pace but better than nothing, and eventually I saw what had caused the problem in the first place—a large lorry, which looked like it had been carrying hay, must have skidded and hit the barrier, spewing its contents onto the motorway. There were large bales in pieces on the side of the road, which I tried not to stare at as a police officer waved us through the single lane we’d been narrowed to.

At least it didn’t seem like anyone had been hurt. I could see the driver of the lorry talking to the police and an emergency vehicle rescue, although quite how they were going to tow the lorry, which was still half on its side next to the central barrier, I didn’t know. I guessed they’d be spending the rest of the day trying to figure it out.

The traffic kept moving and I resisted stopping at the nearest services because I didn’t want to risk getting caught up again, and by the time I reached the next one it felt like my stomach was about to burst through my abdomen, Alien -style, in search of food.

After a quick pit stop for a wee, I found myself queuing up for McDonald’s because I fucking needed a Big Mac, fries, and whatever seasonal things filled with cheese I could find. And a McFlurry.

Kane was messaging me again and after I promised to take my time and let him know if I ran into any further problems, I took my food out to my car and ate while scrolling through Instagram, where I could be that annoying bastard and watch Reels with the sound on without putting my earbuds in.

By the time I’d scraped the last of my McFlurry out of the tub, thick snowflakes were starting to drift lazily through the air, settling themselves on the bonnets and roofs of nearby cars.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I said, glaring at the sky. “Can you please just not? Some of us have things to do! And I’m not spending any more time stuck in the bloody car today.”

I threw my rubbish into the passenger footwell because there was no way I was going out in the snow unless I had to and started the car. There was only an hour and a half until I reached the venue and I didn’t want it to take any longer. This supposedly three-hour journey had taken me well over that already and I just wanted it to be done.

The snow continued falling as I drove, souring my mood despite my best attempts to lift it with a Taylor Swift singalong.

My maps app said there was only half an hour to go when I finally pulled off the motorway and began winding my way towards the village of Swallow Hill. I frowned when it told me to turn right down a narrow-looking, winding road but ignored my gut telling me to find another way around.

It wasn’t as bad as I’d imagined, so when it told me to take another narrow left, I did so without hesitation.

And everything was going smoothly until I heard a loud bang that shook the car, making me lurch to the right.

“Mother fishcakes!” I yelled as I held the car steady, hitting the hazard light button as I desperately looked around for somewhere to pull over, eventually seeing the tiniest gravel culvert in the side of the road.

Just my fucking luck.

Of all the motherfucking days.

I growled as I climbed out of the car and slammed the door behind me, pulling my collar up as the snow swirled around me. It was already getting dark and the thick cloud wasn’t helping. But I didn’t need a torch to see what the problem was.

I had blown out my back tyre.

Mother fucking fishcakes.