Sugar: A Novel Part 15

I lifted my chin. "Nothing, I guess. You're right. We're all adults." I glanced at the flowers hanging limp by his side. "Are those for me?"

Kai looked distractedly toward where my eyes had landed. "What? Oh. Yes. I picked them from my backyard." He sounded irritated that he even had a backyard.

I took them from his hand and pulled his other arm around me. "Thank you," I said, standing close to his solid warmth. "I'm kind of disgusted that you are more domestic than I am and able to grow flowers, but I'm also really happy you picked them for me."

Kai leaned into me and kissed me, hard and long on my mouth. When he came up for air, I thought I saw a glint of triumph in his eyes. "The woman who lived in the house before me planted them. I can't really take any credit." He grinned and pulled me to him again. "But I'll take the credit any way. And another kiss."

"Seems like fair payment," I murmured. His touch was softer now, sweeter, lingering. He gathered me into his arms, and I rested my face against his neck. I breathed in his smell, scrubbed clean and with a touch of cologne.

"I missed you this week," he said into my hair.

"Me, too," I said and felt an instant tinge of guilt. In truth, though I had thought about Kai often, I had been running hard and fast all week. Missing him had become a victim of my things-to-worry-about list, and I felt bad about that.

He pulled away. I couldn't read his expression. "I'd love to stand here and hold you for another six hours or so, but I should probably head to work in about an hour. Suns.h.i.+ne is starting to weary of my sudden disappearances."

"I'll bet," I said. Reluctant, but knowing Kai was right to remind me of the time, I returned to the kitchen in search of a second vase. I tried to be discreet as I pushed Avery's gargantuan flower arrangement into a corner. "I hope you aren't telling her you're coming to see me every time you skip out and leave her to run things on her own."

"Of course I tell her," Kai said, an edge creeping back into his voice. "I have nothing to hide."

I paused, my hands hovering above Kai's flowers. "I didn't mean to imply that you did," I said slowly. I matched the intensity of his gaze. "Kai, are we talking about me here, or you?"

He gripped the stool in front of him but didn't sit down. "Sorry. I guess I'm not over it. I think it's weird that you and Avery were hanging out in your apartment. There. I said it." His eyes stayed fixed on mine.

I shoved the flowers into the vase too roughly and two daisy stems broke in half. Sweeping them up with my hands, I said, "Kai, there is absolutely nothing going on between me and Avery. You know that."

He shook his head. "I can't really know that, though, right?" He joined me behind the counter and started scrubbing his hands with a healthy lather of soap.

I punched numbers on the double ovens and set them humming to life. "Yes, you can know that," I said, starting to retrieve dry ingredients. "You know that because I have told you. That should be enough."

"Listen," he said while opening each cupboard in turn. "It's not just Avery. It's the distance."

"What distance?" I said, exasperated. "And stop slamming doors. The mixing bowls are in the lower cupboard to the right of the oven."

"Thank you," Kai barked. "I'm not talking about physical distance. I'm talking about emotional distance."

"Oh, come on," I said. I was weighing flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt on my counter scale. "You sound like Oprah."

Kai turned to me abruptly. "That's low. Do not compare me to Oprah just because you can't handle an honest conversation. I am nothing like Oprah."

I pursed my lips but felt laughter rise dangerously within. "You did use the phrase 'your best life' with me once."

He looked indignant. "I did not. I don't even understand what that means!" He jabbed at the air with my whisk, the other hand gripping a Pyrex measuring cup.

Laughter, a hard and snorty one, escaped my lips. It filled the kitchen with my gasps, all the louder in Kai's silence. When I'd regained enough control to have only a few hiccups left, I padded over to Kai, who had turned his back to me and was whisking egg whites with a vengeance.

"I'm sorry," I said, wrapping my arms around him and trying to force him to stop with the b.l.o.o.d.y whisking. He was doing it far too violently. I definitely needed to be in charge of the whisking. "I didn't mean to laugh at you." I hiccupped once and winced.

He sighed and, thank G.o.d, put down the whisk. Turning a tight circle to face me without breaking my grip, he studied my face. "I don't like Avery."

I nodded. "I know."

"And I'm p.i.s.sed he gets to spend so much time with you."

I smiled. "Thanks."

"And I hate your nondisclosure form and that you can tell him stuff you can't tell me."

"Me, too."

"And I'm really proud of you and that people want you on their TV show because you're awesome."

I felt The Splotch making its presence known.

"And I'm very, very ready for you to have a break from the show so we can figure out our normal without Avery Michaels popping his head between us every forty-five seconds."

My sigh came out in a rush. "Yes, yes, and yes. I want that, too."

He paused a minute, appearing to search my eyes for the answer to a question he wasn't asking. "Okay," he said, brus.h.i.+ng a strand of hair away from my forehead. "That's all I needed to know." He slapped my rear, hard, as if we were getting ready to go out there and crush the Badgers' offense. "Now let's make some cupcakes." He clapped once and nudged me gently away. "I need s.p.a.ce to whisk."

"No, you really don't," I said and commandeered his weapon. "You can fill the cupcake liners."

He scoffed. "Cupcake liners? Are you even kidding me? Woman, I own my own diner. I know how to make a cake."

I rolled my eyes. "Listen, if you are really attentive and you do everything perfectly, I might let you whip the b.u.t.tercream. But only if you promise not to do something weird and diner-y, like crumbling a slice of crispy bacon on top or something."

He stopped moving. After a moment of silence, he spoke. "That," he said, "is brilliant."

I groaned. "This is never going to work," I said. I watched him search my fridge for bacon, listened to him threaten to go to the store (really quick!) to pick up a pound, and laughed at his sales pitch.

"Seriously," I said again. "This project is doomed."

"No!" he retorted, fist in the air. "This, my dear girl, is the perfect example of your 'best life'! Bacon cupcakes are definitely the best of both our lives put together and then cranked up sixty notches."

I shook my head and laughed at him, betting the cupcakes would not turn out well and hoping our relations.h.i.+p had much better odds.

20.

THE dining room at Thrill still s.h.i.+mmered with light, though all the customers had long ago abandoned their clean plates, their soft linens, their empty gla.s.ses. The room radiated calm, a delicious irony since the ten hours before the night's end were nothing short of controlled chaos. Standing on weary feet in the middle of the room, I took stock of the day.

I'd had to leave my apartment in disarray after baking cupcakes with Kai, and I cringed to remember the mess that would greet me when I returned home. The cupcakes were finished. Odd but finished.

Kai had won his argument with the bacon, but I conceded only to a monastic crumble of extracrispy bits, as underdone bacon would have violated every personal code I maintained. I forced him to make his own frosting and to include a maple accent, and the bacon/maple combo could only be used on half of the batch. The others, all mine, turned out beautifully and as previously discussed with Manda: strawberry-raspberry cakes with a light and airy lime frosting. I would garnish with a single perfect raspberry right before the party.

Kai was inappropriately confident about his creations, sure they would win the vote he was now prepared to initiate come party time. Honestly, if the man hadn't been so ridiculously good-looking, I would have held fast to my rule never to allow the bacon trend to infect my kitchen. The guy looked amazing in jeans and a T-s.h.i.+rt, and suddenly I'm allowing pork products on my cupcakes? Would the real Charlie Garrett please show herself?

Standing now in the center of Thrill's dining room, I felt every mile I'd walked throughout the day. I let myself down heavily onto the rustic wooden hearth that spanned the length of the fireplace. Its gas flames licked at a row of fake firewood. A tired sigh escaped my lips as I slumped. The elegance and beauty of the room enveloped me and reminded me why I loved working in restaurants. Every so often, I liked to come out to the front of the house. It was so easy to get lost in the abyss of the kitchen and to forget about the world beyond the swinging doors. The people who sat every night in the sea of plush chairs drank in this view, this landscape of wood and tile and color and flowers. They didn't get bombarded with the intensity and unforgiving pace of the kitchen. They heard laughter and conversation vibrating around them, not the slamming of metal on metal, the cursing and tempers that flared over and over throughout one evening in the back of the house. The people who ate at Thrill loved this room-and lately, probably the idea that they could possibly make the final cut and appear in one of the episodes.

It was then that I noticed with a start the absence of all the TV production clutter: no cameras, no mics, no thick cords snaking along the floor. The uncomplicated calm was my scene-stealer in that moment. I sat in the chair, trying to bottle the peace of the room, trying to capture the way a patron must feel when waiting for her meal. I closed my eyes and hoped to bottle the serenity and take it with me.

My phone vibrated, and I retrieved it from my pocket.

Kai: Ready to get trounced in the Great Cupcake Throwdown?

I laughed as I typed my response.

Me: It's late and you must already be asleep. Sweet dreams, dear boy. That's the only place you'll be trouncing.

Kai: Where are you?

Me: Just leaving work. Beyond tired and headed to bed. But happy I'll be seeing you in the morning. I'll still want to date you, even though your cupcakes will taste gross.

Kai: You are on some kind of arrogant, pastry chef crack. See you on the battlefield. Sleep well, pretty girl.

The door leading to the kitchen swung open, and I tucked my phone into my pocket before turning to see who was coming into the dining room. Avery picked his way slowly through the tables and chairs. He looked rumpled and every bit as spent as I felt. He offered a tired smile, pulling his chef's hat off as he joined me at the hearth.

"Hey," he said. "Are you as wiped as I am?"

I nodded. "I'm so glad we're almost finished filming. I never thought I'd long for the days of boring old fifty-hour work weeks."

He looked chagrined. "I'm sorry about that, Char," he said. "You came out here for a saner life, and I feel like I've welcomed you into Insanity 2.0."

Even my laughter sounded tired. "If I recall correctly, you were the one who pointed out that I had no friends. Now I finally have a few good ones in town, but they're all irritated with me because I can't ever see them." I shook my head. "I'm not sure what's worse: loneliness or knowing the cure is just out of reach."

"Whoa, there, Aristotle," he said. A smile broke through the deepening lines on his face. "You won't be lonely forever. We'll finish filming, do the promotional stuff, and then you and Wildflower Man can go frolic through all the fields you want. Until next season."

My eyes traveled upward in thought. I let my gaze run along the seam between the ceiling and the wall. "I don't know, Avery. I think I might be one-and-done with this TV thing."

"What?" He leaned toward me. "You're such a natural. And I thought you were having fun. The accolades in the press, the constant requests from patrons to meet the pastry chef, the party at TiffanTosh's place and all the contacts that are sure to open up. You're meant to do this, Char. Admit it." He pulled my hand from my lap and folded it between his palms. I hadn't realized I was cold until the warmth from his grasp cut through my chill. "You're perfect for this job. No one else could do it like you."

We sat in silence, hearing the empty building settle in twinges and moans as it bedded down for the night. Finally, I revealed my confession. "I do like being liked," I admitted softly.

Avery's tone was reflective. "Charlie, I'm pretty sure you have no idea how much you are liked by the people who surround you. You're one of a kind, Char. It was true a decade ago, and it's still true today."

I laid my mop of hair and heavy head on his shoulder. "Thanks, Avery. You have no idea how much I needed to hear that tonight."

The heat from the fireplace warmed my skin through my whites, and I felt myself being pulled into the escape of sleep. I closed my eyes, making myself a feeble promise to just let my eyelids rest a moment. I must have dozed because my eyes would not obey my brain when it told them to open up already. I felt Avery's arm around me, then his hands turning me slowly to face him. When I succeeded in propping my eyelids open, Avery's face was all I could see, and his lips were planted squarely on mine. He kissed me softly at first but quickly graduated to an urgency that shot me straight out of groggy and right into an adrenaline rush.

I pulled away. "Avery," I said, wiping my mouth with my hand. "This is not happening."

"Are you sure?" he said, still close, still staring at my mouth. "We have a lot of history here, Char. And we know we can be great together. This is a low-risk enterprise." He smiled and leaned toward me again.

I put my hand on his chest and pushed him gently but firmly away. "We aren't culinary students any more, Avery. This would never work now. We're too different."

Avery shook his head with a resoluteness mirrored by the set of his jaw. "We are more alike than you want to admit, Charlie Garrett. We could build something that Flower Boy can't even dream of."

"His name is Kai," I said, suddenly chafing in the heat from the fireplace. I stood to find the switch to extinguish the flames.

Avery followed me. He grabbed my hands and turned me toward him. "I can give you what he can't, Char. I understand you. He understands what he wants you to be, not who you really are."

His words sliced through any remaining fog. I cleared my throat. "That might be true," I said slowly. "But I think I'll let him be the one to decide that." I stood, patting my hair where Avery's shoulder had done some damage. "We'd better call it a night."

I walked toward the front door, not turning to respond to his words but feeling them sting just the same.

"My door is always open, Charlie. Just remember that, in case things don't turn out like you've planned."

21.

ZARA opened the door with a flourish, somehow managing to twirl even as she pushed the screen door wide.

"Auntie Char! It's my birthday! Do you like my dress? It's new and it's a color called fuchsia which is a weird word and it has sparkles and little hearts everywhere and it's from my Nana Henrick." Her words came out in snippets as she spun away and then toward me. I grabbed her around the waist and lifted her up. She giggled with the giggle reserved only for a birthday girl.

"I love your dress," I said, smacking her cheek with a loud kiss. "You look especially beautiful today." She squirmed in my embrace until I whispered into her ear. The sudden change in volume shocked her into stillness. "You're going to want to open my gift now. And you might want to do it in a corner where your mom isn't watching."

Her eyes got big. She nodded in solemn understanding. "'K. I know right where to go." She took the small wrapped package I offered and scurried up the stairs.

Just in time, too, because Manda the Enforcer came down the hallway with the intensity of a natural disaster.

"Oh, thank G.o.d you're here early," she said, gripping me by one hand and pulling me toward the kitchen. "Ten little princesses are about to descend, and I can't find the candles. Jack isn't back from getting the pizza, and Polly won't stop trying to eat the balloons that Dane dropped all over the house. Choking hazard!" She swiped a saliva-coated green balloon from Polly's mouth and swung her up to a hip in one motion. "Dane! Where are you?"

"Here!" Dane called from the family room.

I poked my head around the corner. "Is it okay for him to be pulling every Kleenex out of the box, licking them, and then putting them into one germ-infested pile?" I wrinkled my nose, unwilling to initiate an intervention unless Manda was absolutely over the edge with neediness and wouldn't make a move to do it herself.

"That's perfect, actually," Manda said. She opened and shut drawers with slams and curses. "Kleenexes don't kill people. But I just might if I can't find those d.a.m.n candles. Sorry, baby," she said into Polly's ear and then kissed her. Polly appeared unaffected by the profanity and the frenetic behavior of her mother.

"I'll take Polly," I said, pulling the baby from Manda. "And I'll run over to Kai's house to see if he can come over now. Maybe he has birthday candles."

I nearly collided with Zara as I was leaving the kitchen. I heard Manda gasp and pause in her rummaging.

"Don't I look beautiful?" Zara said, though it was difficult to distinguish individual words around the generous application of glitter lip-gloss. "My lips are s.h.i.+ny and gorgeous. And my eyeb.a.l.l.s have blue powder on them that is awesome."

"Good Lord in heaven, help me," Manda muttered. I didn't need to turn to feel the darts she was vaulting my way. "Zara, honey, did Auntie Charlie give you that makeup?"

Zara turned questioning eyes on me. "Maybe," she said slowly, unwilling to betray her source.

I turned, biting my lip to keep from laughing. "I did, yes. And may I just say," I curtseyed to Zara, "you are definitely ready for your birthday ball now."