Page 88 of Merry Fake Bride

The last few days of November pass in a blur.

A website runs an article on the bakery and an award won last Christmas, which spurs an influx of orders for festive cakes, gingerbread men, and pastries from all over the city.

Dad ends up hiring one of the local teens to drive the truck back and forth at least four times a day to make all the deliveries while Mom and I end up to our eyeballs in marzipan, edible glitter frost, and countless bags of sugar to decorate a cake exactly like an icy lake from someone’s old holiday photograph.

The bakery is typically busy at this time of year, but the sudden rush of attention barely gives us time for anything else.

It’s a miracle that there continues to be no pushback on the land deal, so my lawyer currently needs nothing from me.

One evening, as snow blankets the town once more, Mom and I sit hunched over the decorating table working our way through sixteen pairs of ice skates to be added to the cake which will be collected tomorrow.

“Sixteen,” Mom murmurs, her tongue slipping out the corner of her mouth while she concentrates. “A family this big must be insane at this time of year.”

“Imagine how big their dinner table is.” I chuckle, weaving thinly rolled marzipan over each skate as the laces. “They’d need at least four centerpieces. Although the selection would be easier. One turkey, one chicken, one ham, and then a vegetarian option. Can’t imagine all sixteen are meat eaters these days.”

“I dread to imagine the grocery bill.” She laughs to herself and sweeps the final stroke of glitter over the skate she’s working on, then passes it to me. “Out of everything, I’m just glad you’re here this year.”

Pausing my weaving, I glance up. “Me too.”

“You and Kairo seem to be getting along well.”

From the tone of her voice, it doesn’t sound much like a question.

More like a statement she already knows the answer to.

“Yeah, I guess. The deal is important.”

“I mean beyond that.”

“There’s nothing beyond that.”

“Devon.” Her hand suddenly covers my wrist. “I saw the way he was looking at you at Thanksgiving. That man is smitten.”

“What?” Warmth immediately ignites in my cheeks. “No, he’s not.”

“So that kiss was a friendly peck between friends?”

My spine straightens like a poker and I stare at her as a shameful heat washes over me from head to toe.

Sweat prickles along my scalp and my mouth runs dry. “You saw that?”

“You were kissing in the middle of the street, darling. Did you forget that?”

“I— well, it… it was just?—”

“Relax, honey.” She pats my wrist and pulls away. “Kairo seems like a very nice man. What he’s doing for us is incredible. I admit I was wary for a while. I kept expecting the other shoe to drop, but if he’s one thing for sure, it’s consistent. I don’t think half of the things he’s done for us required him to be here in person.”

No words escape me despite the various weak excuses surging through my mind.

“He… we work together now, Mom. Technically. He’s my boss in a way. And we… I can’t.”

“Do you like him?” She looks at me with a warm smile. Glitter clings to the soft fuzz on her cheek and her eyes crease with the mirth of age.

“I do,” I whisper as the guilt inside me surges. “But I shouldn’t.”

“Why ever not?”

“Anything goes wrong between us and I risk fucking up everything with this place, Mom. I can’t let that happen. It’s too important.”