Chapter Two – Picking a Flavor
Stephen had just stepped out of the showers, towel around his waist, when the door to the locker room flung open. He glanced up, shaking his head as Lou sauntered in among half-dressed men without batting an eye. Some of his coworkers fussed at her but she ignored them. Placing her purse on the bench next to Stephen's bag, she flicked a lock of hair behind her shoulder.
"Aren't you ready yet?"
Stephen indicated the towel. "Unless yeh want me goin' out like this, no."
She rolled her eyes, perching on the bench to wait. "Where's Stu?"
"Shower. Yeh want to join him while ah dress?" He hoped she would, but she merely sighed and looked to her watch. Chuckling, he reached for his clothes. "Are we in a hurry?"
"I just want to get home into my own bed. Nice match with Stu, by the way." She suddenly became interested in the ceiling when he dropped his towel. "I saw some of the kids from this afternoon in the crowd."
"Yeah, ah noticed. Tried to talk to all of'em."
"I didn't see the cake lady. Was she here?"
"If she was, ah didn't notice. It was a big crowd, Lou." He would never admit to looking for her. After little Sophie's excitement over meeting him he'd almost expected to see them. He slipped his hands into his pockets to straighten them and his fingers brushed against the card he'd tucked in one. He almost pulled it out but refrained, knowing Lou would tease. She seemed determined to make his life a living hell on a good day; he knew she wouldn't let up about the 'cake lady' for weeks at least.
"Pity. Are you going to order a cake?" She glanced at him to gauge his state of undress then turned to face him upon seeing he was mostly covered.
"Lou... Aren't yeh supposed to be listing off my schedule for the next week?" His voice was muffled as he pulled on a long-sleeved t-shirt.
"Considering you're off all week there's no need. I'm not going to spend my days off keeping up with you. Stu and I have plans." As she spoke, the man stepped out of the showers.
Stephen knew her attention was now fully on her boyfriend of two years. Relieved, he continued getting ready, looking forward to getting home. There were no commitments for him aside from his time at the gym. He was anxious to get started on his precious leisure time. Stu had agreed to drive him home. Knowing that he had to wait for his friend to get ready, he packed his things. After telling others that he would see them later he headed out, looking for a quiet corner to wait.
He took a seat in Catering and propped one foot up on the chair opposite. The crew rushed around in the organized chaos that was a load-out. Soon the arena would never look as though WWE had been housed there for the day. He toyed with the idea of checking Twitter but refrained; he wasn't in the mood to read mentions of undying love and devotion from people who'd never met him.
"Fuck it," he muttered, leaning to retrieve his laptop. He placed it on the table then reached for the card in his pocket. Within minutes he was staring at the front page of Cakes by Christina. Rubbing his chin as he looked over the selection of links, he clicked on the gallery of previous orders. There was no harm in just taking a look, right? He wouldn't be ordering anything.
After several long moments of looking at elaborate wedding cakes, whimsical cupcakes, and intricately designed special orders, his earlier craving for cake was increased tenfold. The list of available flavors and fillings had his resolve wavering. Deciding to take a look at the prices, he knew when he clicked on the link that he would be making an order.
"What are you doing?"
Lou's voice caused him to jump slightly. Stephen looked up from the laptop, expecting to find Stu waiting for him as well. There was no sign of the Englishman, though. He spotted a wet handprint on the sleeve of her long-sleeved white blouse. Not about to ask about it he turned his gaze back to the online order form. "Just killin' time," he answered. "Thought yeh were goin' to wait for Stu?"
"He kicked me out, said I was distracting." Lou pouted as she nudged his foot out of the chair and seated herself. Without glancing up Stephen knew she crossed one leg over the other then smoothed her black pencil skirt. He heard her lean forward, placing her purse on the table. And when he finally chanced a look in her direction she was gazing at him expectantly.
"What?" he asked, not liking the way her lips curved into a smile.
"What are you doing?"
"Ah told yeh. Just killin' time." He unconsciously slid his laptop closer to him, not wanting her to see what he was up to.
"Really?"
"Yes, really." Thankful he had memorized his credit card information he typed it in the scrolled back up on the page to double-check his order.
"Ooh, you're ordering a cake?" Lou piped up.
Damn, he'd forgotten to put the card away. There was no getting it back now; she was twirling it between her fingers. "Ah was just lookin' at the website," he grunted.
"What flavor did you order?"
"None of yer—Ah didn't order one." Reminded that she was more an annoying sister than a woman that worked for him, he looked up in time to see her standing. The card dropped to the table and she reached for the laptop. "Lou, dammit, what're yeh doin'?"
"I want to see her cakes." Lou's grip was strong and defiance shone in her blue eyes. "I'm thinking of ordering one for Stu's birthday."
"A grand idea, lass, but his birthday was over two months ago," he reminded, wrapping his fingers around her wrist with every intention of pulling her hand from his precious laptop.
"Well, our anniversary is in a few weeks, I could order one for then." She tilted her head, one corner of her mouth lifting into a smirk. "Are you looking at porn, Ste? Is that why you don't want me to see the computer?"
Dumbfounded by the question, he loosened his grip, jaw dropping at her sass. Two seconds later she had the laptop balanced on one palm, eyes on the screen. "Lou—"
"Ooh, red velvet. Good choice, Ste. Shall I finish this up for you? No problem, I don't mind at all." Ignoring his attempt to protest she perched in the chair across from him again. "Under 'special instructions' should I suggest she give you a call?"
"Ah'm goin' to kill yeh one of these days," he muttered, shaking his head.
"I'll be sure and haunt you for the rest of your life. You want it delivered to your home, right?" Lou glanced up with a serene smile. "Going to ask her to stay for coffee?" He growled and she raised a hand in defeat. "Right, right. None of my business. There, it's ordered. I'll screen-cap the receipt and email it to you."
"Why don't yeh work for Stu instead of me?" he asked.
"Because you can't do shit without me. He's self-reliant. Plus, in a way I do work for him. I get his clothes packed, get them cleaned. I pick up after him, slob that he is, and make sure he gets plenty of rest. And I suppose he does pay me, considering we have great sex." Her fingers flew over the keys as she spoke, not batting an eye about speaking on such a private topic. A few clicks of the mouse, then she was sliding the laptop back over to him. "He even gave me the larger closet when we moved in together."
"That's not payin' yeh, that's knowin' he'll sleep on the couch if he didn't agree with yeh." Stephen didn't bother reminding her that he'd gotten along fine for over thirty years before it had been decided he needed an assistant. Doing so would only have her bring up the fact it had taken five men to take her place. It was a tried and true argument, one they'd had on many occasions.
"There's that, too." She laced her fingers and rested her hands on the table. "So?"
"So what?" he sighed, checking the receipt on the screen to make sure she hadn't added anything outlandish to his order. Content that she hadn't he closed the laptop and shoved into his bag.
"Are you going to ask her out?"
"Lou, ah love yeh like a sister. But ah pay yeh to keep me work life organized. When did ah say ah wanted yeh organizing my personal life too?"
"You didn't. I'm freelancing."
"Yeh can freelance yer ass—"
"Ready to go, love?" Stu asked, approaching Lou from behind. The smile on her face turned from sarcastic to sweet as she tilted her head back to greet him.
"Absolutely."
Stephen watched them share a kiss, feeling for the millionth time that he was a voyeur when it came to them. It wasn't their fault that they were a loving couple prone to public displays of affection. Each time they did so in front of him, though, he itched to get away. He would never admit to it but at times he felt more than a little jealous. All it had taken was a few words in Stu's smooth English accent and a day or two of watching her long legs carry her out of a room before they'd been eating out of each others' hands. Within weeks they became the couple that seemed to have been together forever. He'd watched them grow as a couple and knew that before too long Stu would drop to one knee and propose. Much to Lou's consternation he hadn't admitted to seeing the ring that was waiting for the right moment, but he knew she wanted it as badly as Stu did. He wished them nothing but the best, knowing first-hand how difficult it was to maintain a relationship in their line of work. Even when dating someone on the tour things got rough.
He followed them down the corridor to the exit, gaze dropping to the linked hands then lifting to the shared smile. They were in an exceptionally loving mood, which meant longing glances and stolen kisses on the ride home.
And he'd agreed to share a car with them for two hours. God help him.
Christina leaned over the butcher-block counter, humming along to the Alicia Keys song that filled the room. Her fingers manipulated the fondant lightly dusted with confectioner's sugar, curling little bits into red petals. She knew if she looked up she would see Sophie dancing around the kitchen, favorite whisk in hand. So she was surprised when the stool to her left scraped across the floor and her youngest daughter scrambled to the top.
"Mommy. Done?"
Over the past year Christina had become adept at translating Sophie's seemingly incoherent babbling into actual questions and statements. It was second nature now and sometimes she forgot that aside from the speech therapist few adults could understand her. Smiling at the sight of the hopeful face, she leaned to drop a kiss on Sophie's cheek. "Almost. I'm going to few more just in case, then I'll put them in the fridge to harden before putting the roses together."
Sophie nodded in understanding. "I help?"
"Yes, you can! While Mommy finishes these, can you get the can of little bitty pearls out of the pantry? The white one with pink letters."
"Yes!" Sophie was already sliding down, bare feet slapping against the floor.
It felt like the millionth time in the past week, but Christina sent up a prayer that the speech therapy would show improvement soon. She couldn't help feeling partially to blame; after all, during Sophie's most formative months of learning to talk she had been mired in the pit of depression. Taking a deep breath, she focused on the task at hand, pushing away the ghosts of the past. It was fruitless. They came when they wanted to.
The late-night knock on the door. The distant rumble of thunder as she'd shuffled out of bed ready to curse at whoever interrupted her precious sleep. The stoic faces of the honor guard and chaplain, their uniforms sparkling with drops of rain as they asked to speak with her for a few moments. Expecting the news hadn't made hearing the words any easier, and she had clung to the chaplain as her world had come to a crashing halt.
Unconsciously she slid the thumb of her left hand over her ring finger, sliding her wedding band and engagement ring back and forth. They gave her a sense of comfort, the diamond solitaire that had belonged to Bradley's grandmother especially. The plain gold band he had slid onto her finger on their wedding day had never been removed.
Even now, two years later, they remained. Just as they would til the day she died.
"Got'em, Mommy!"
Jarred from the maelstrom of thoughts, Christina was grateful for the interruption. She blinked rapidly to ward away the tears that always threatened, wiping her fingers on her apron. "You're such a good helper!" she enthused.
"Scar'ett help too?" Sophie questioned hopefully, turning to run toward her older sister.
As usual, Scarlett had her head in a book. When she wasn't visiting the riding academy for one of her lessons, she preferred an imaginary world. Christina kept an eye on them as she slid the petals onto the cookie sheet. She hoped her oldest would lay the book aside and pitch in; she hadn't in a while. Relief swept through her when Scarlett did so, letting Sophie drag her to the counter.
She knew Scarlett continued to struggle with losing her father. Of the two, she had been the only one to remember him as something more than the man in the photos around the house. She was the only one to remember the hugs, the kisses, the cuddles. At six, it wasn't any easier than it had been at four.
The only one who understood why Christina sometimes sat on the couch holding onto an old t-shirt while crying.
"I'll wipe the counter, Mama." Scarlett playfully tousled Sophie's wild blonde curls. Curls she'd inherited from her father. "Is Ricky going to take it when you finish?"
Christina nodded, stepping around Sophie to place the cookie sheet in the fridge. "I have another he's taking off, too." Again she counted her blessings. Her next door neighbor's college-aged son was taking a year off to save money for school. She had trusted her instincts when hiring him as a delivery boy and he hadn't let her down. Ricky Jones was polite, conscientious, and liked being able to take cupcakes to his girlfriend at work.
If she'd kept the business going those six months... No, she told herself with a shake of her head as she placed the round cake on the now-clean counter. She thanked Scarlett and asked for the bag of royal icing. She refused to think of the what ifs. Besides, those months had been filled with packing up, finding a new house, moving off the base, and readjusting to life without her husband.
She piped icing along the base of the cake. The order had been waiting in her inbox one morning. No special instructions. No rush. She had emailed the man – Stephen Farrelly – to ask if he wanted anything written on top. A woman had answered and sounded quite amused as she told her all Mr. Farrelly wanted was the cake. As ordered.
Well, if Mr. Farrelly wanted a round red velvet two-layer cake covered in white fondant with a spray of red roses and edible pearls, who was she to argue?
"This world is a li-ar!" Sophie screeched. Christina looked up from her piping in time to see her youngest throw her head back, one hand thrown in the air.
"Show-off," Scarlett teased, laughing as she pushed the can of edible pearls closer to her mother. "Just like Daddy."
Christina nodded, reaching with one bare foot to push the dropped whisk to Sophie. For once, Scarlett's large blue eyes didn't shine with pain. "Hey, Alicia, you forgot your microphone. Scarlett, honey, can you get the phone and dial Ricky for me?"
"Play song again, Scar'ett!" Sophie demanded, hopping on one foot. "This world is a liar!"
"This Girl Is On Fire, sweet-pea," Christina corrected with a laugh. Though, she reflected as Scarlett moved to restart the song, Sophie's garbled version was probably more realistic.
The cake sat, still untouched, on Stephen's kitchen counter. It had been there for three hours, since the scrawny kid had shown up with the large white box and cheesy grin.
Of course she wouldn't deliver her cakes herself. Of course she would have someone to do it for her. She had two little ones to deal with at home, she couldn't very well drag them along with her to make deliveries.
It was gorgeous. Stephen was one to maintain that all cakes were only as beautiful as they were delicious, but he regarded the smooth white fondant with a touch of awe. Not so much as a pin-sized dent marred the surface. The silver board beneath it shone under the bright kitchen light, the tiny pearls around the base gleamed. The roses, which had been a last-minute decision, covered half of the top, cascading down the side. When he leaned over he could see the dark green leaves tucked among the rosebuds, adding authenticity.
"Where is it? Let me see!"
He turned at the sound of Lou's voice, barely stepping aside before she brushed by to get at the cake. Looking to the man that entered the kitchen a moment later, he raised an eyebrow. Stu merely shrugged one shoulder.
"Soon as she got your text she insisted on coming over. I'll have you know you're the only man I let her push me away for." Stu moved to the fridge. "Got any Stella?"
"Yeah, a couple.' Stephen ran a hand through his hair as he turned back to the cake. "What the hell yeh doin'?"
Lou froze, knife poised over the cake. Staring at him in astonishment, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Knowing she couldn't call him a complete idiot, for he wasn't, she went for the obvious. "I'm... About to cut a slice of cake?"
"Ah didn't say yeh could cut it."
"It's a fucking cake, Ste. What else would you plan on doing to it?" she scoffed, turning back to her task. As she made the first cut the aroma of rich red velvet invaded her nostrils and she nearly moaned. "Oh, Stu, grab a plate for me, please. And a fork."
"Christ, that's the bloody cake you've been going on about for the past three days?" Stu asked, stepping over to take a look. When he looked to Stephen, his eyebrow was raised almost to his hairline. "Fucking hell, man. That's rather...feminine, don't you think?"
Stephen rolled his eyes. "She didn't have a skull and crossbones as an available design."
"It looks like an engagement cake. Where's the ring?" Stu teased.
"Shut the fuck up," Stephen muttered.
"Oh God." Lou's moan caused both men to turn and stare at her. Having been too impatient to wait for a plate and fork, she'd broken off part of the slice she'd made and stuffed it into her mouth. Eyes closed, head tilted back, she looked as close to ecstasy as she could without being indecent. "It's so good!"
"Better than sex?" Stu challenged, moving forward to snag a piece for himself.
She moaned again, tongue swiping across her lips to savor every crumb. "I'd say on par."
A laugh burst from the depth of Stephen's belly at the look on Stu's face. Grinning when a glare was sent in his direction he moved to get a plate for himself. "Yeh massacred me cake, Lou."
"I don't care. It's fucking delicious. You have to order another."
"Ah do?" Stephen cringed as a flurry of red crumbs fell to his counter. "Yeh can't order one yerself?"
"No, I'm too busy eating this. I swear, she's going to make my wedding cake. Whenever this bastard gets around to asking me to marry him."
Stu's brow furrowed. "First I'm only as good as a fucking cake, now I'm a sorry bastard?"
"I only called you a bastard. You added the sorry on your own. Ugh, even the rose is yummy." Lou stomped one foot against the floor, her high heeled shoe sounding like a gunshot. "Ste, order a chocolate one next. With ganache filling. Oh! What did she say when she delivered it?"
Stephen watched her mangle the cake even more, slapping a meager slice onto his plate. "She didn't say anythin'. She didn't deliver it."
"That sucks. You are going to call and order another, though, right?" Lou persisted, ripping off three roses to toss atop Stephen's slice. When he didn't answer her right away, she glared at him. "Ste... Do it."
"Yeh only want more cake."
"N...Yes. But I could tell you were interested in her. Call her."
"If ah say ah will, can ah have me arm back?"
Lou glanced down to where her hand gripped his wrist. "I suppose. If nothing else, tell her you want her to come to a show."
"You better do it, mate, or you'll never get a moment's rest," Stu suggested, leaning against the counter. His earlier grievance with his girlfriend forgotten now she was pestering his friend.
"For cryin' out loud. Alright."
A/N: Oh my gawd you guys! I never expected this reaction to a story. I'm really enjoying writing this (despite Lou's hounding me for updates). Thank you all so much: Lou, Blackhat, Jess, SandraSmit19, charmedbyortonbarrett, ThatGirl54, prettybaby69, Jojo, Nikki, Carolina Kel, Amber, Shamaness1171, and boston246. You guys really overwhelmed me with your reviews. Love you!