Page 63 of Merry Fake Bride

Kairo is with me, often jumping in when her questioning gets too intense, but there’s a strange dynamic between them.

Kairo almost seems on edge, like he’s preparing for something I can’t quite put my finger on, and I’m bowled over by the urge to make him proud.

It’s like we’re defusing a bomb together but neither of us can see the other’s instructions.

If this is what he deals with on a daily basis, then his desire to help me feels even more reckless.

The questions continue until she starts to ask me details about my exact injuries, but before Kairo can jump in with another rescue, a fragile yet familiar voice rises up behind me.

“Devon, is that you?”

We all turn, and I lock eyes with Andora Wiltshire, a woman I haven’t seen since I last attended a bakery competition with my mother about seven years ago.

“Andora?”

“I thought that was you, child. How stunning it is to see you!”

She surges forward and clasps my shoulder in one wrinkled hand. “It’s been far too long!”

Despite the quiet urge to recoil, I hold my ground in front of Clarice and smile brightly.

“I know, I’m so sorry I haven’t shown my face at the shows in a while. Life has been busy.”

“Yes, yes.” Andora chuckles. “Your mother often told me of your fancy life in L.A. I always meant to come out and visit you, but you know my circuits. I would turn to dust before leaving the tarmac.”

“Mom told me that Frank passed. I’m so sorry. I meant to send a card but…”

Trailing off, Axel pops into my mind, and I swallow hard around the lump in my throat. “He was the most adorably trustworthy judge of my buttercream.”

“Don’t fret, child.” Andora chuckles. “He passed fat and happy like any dog desires. We need to have a proper catch up, and I want to hear all about how you’re entering the circuit next year. I have missed your melt-in-the-mouth lemon squares!”

“I would love that.” My smile widens even as exhaustion pulls at the corners of my mouth. “It’s so nice to see you.”

“And you, my dear.” Andora finally seems to realize there are other people at the table and she flashes them both a friendly smile. “Clarice! I thought you were in Paris at this time of year.”

“Not this year,” Clarice replies tightly with a pursed smile. “Kairo decided to get engaged.”

Andora’s smile widens as she glances at Kairo, then meets my eyes.

A soft, wispy laugh rises from her and she pats my warm cheek with her cool hand. “I’ll let you get back to your dinner. I’ll call your mother, dear, and we’ll set up lunch.”

“That sounds amazing, thank you.”

“Bye now!” Andora wiggles her fingers at all of us while being swept away by her husband, and the table falls silent. Kairo flashes me an encouraging smile and Clarice eyes me curiously.

“Aren’t you just full of surprises?” She speaks curtly. “How do you know Andora?”

“She judged quite a few of my desserts at some bakery competitions.”

Clarice’s nose wrinkles as if a foul scent has suddenly come her way.

“You bake well enough to reach her level?”

The smile struggles to remain on my face. “Yes, I do, actually. A family trait.”

“She judges worldwide,” Clarice continues as if she’s trying to catch me in a lie.

“Yes, she does.”