Chapter 12

Twelve

MARIA

W hen Lou shows me to where Carrie is I feel like I'm in way over my head. Her emails, and even our chat at the resort did not prepare me for the sight that greets me by the ice. It's not just one camera. No, there are cameras from the arena, as well as the local news station. All here to capture the reveal for the for the results of the voting. I recognize the sports anchor telling one of the camera men where he plans to stand.

"Great you're here," Carrie says. Her smile dims slightly when she sees Lou beside me, but she keeps her tone professional. "Lou, how about you go get on the ice with the rest of the team. Don't forget to take the skate guards off."

The guy from the news station smirks. "Are you sure you even want him in the shot given his season?"

"Honey," Carrie admonishes, "be nice."

"Sorry, love." He walks up to her and kisses her on the cheek. "But you've seen his season."

Lou leaves without a word, and suddenly, I feel like I've been thrown to the wolves.

Carrie points to a table right up by the entry to the ice, it's covered in a shiny blue table cloth that will make the cupcakes pop. "Set them up over there."

I get to work unloading the cupcakes. Each of the eight stack-and go-containers holds twenty four mini cupcakes and I brought three dozen full sized cupcakes as well. Most of them are bears and ice monsters, Luckily Carrie had not insisted all of them be made this morning, so I'd been able to make most of them earlier this week, but yesterday she'd requested a dozen for the early names too. So I included those too. There's a big blue curtain blocking my view of the ice, but I don't mind, especially when I can hear the sound of the team skating on the other side.

I get to the last container of regular-sized cupcakes, realizing it's the Coach's order for a cupcake assortment, and put it to the side. Nearly two hundred cupcakes later, I step back, eyeing my work critically. They look good, and I place a little paper sign next to the cupcakes with La Petite's logo next to them. I snap a few photos on my phone for my bakery's social media pages.

Carrie walks up, anchorman in tow. "I want the camera to be able to pan over them and then the team will skate in taking them away, until there's just the one winning one, and the camera can zoom out to show the machine on the ice cleaning up the competition."

"Brilliant," The anchor beams at her. "The team's going to smash the cupcakes on the ice?"

"Well, they can't be eating this garbage, especially on a game day."

Smash cakes. She's turning my cupcakes into cannon fodder. Bright hot anger rushes through me. I want to smash a cupcake right into her face. But I manage to restrain myself.

"Where do you want me?" I ask, clenching my teeth.

"Oh, you can go." She says, and then frowns at the paper with my logo on it. She picks it up with a dismissive sniff.

"What about our agreement," I ask.

"Agreement for what?" she gives me an innocent look.

"You said I'd get to promote my bakery."

"Oh." Her face falls in pretend sympathy. "There's been a change in plans."

"I agreed to do this in exchange for exposure."

She smirks, and crumples the paper in her hand. "Well, a little lesson in business. Always get it in writing, and never do it for something that's not quantifiable."

She turns and walks away, a bounce in her step as she tells everyone "Two minutes until showtime. Where are my sparklers?"

The thought of packing up my cupcakes and hitting the road crosses my mind.

"It's not worth it." Lou says, coming up to stand beside me.

I whirl around, surprised to find him there.

"What isn't?" I ask him.

"Letting her get under your skin."

I snort. "Like you're one to talk." Grabbing the box of cupcakes for his coach, I fully intend to take my empty travel containers and go.

"You're a thousand times better than she ever will be," He says, stepping closer.

I stiffen, clutching the box tighter. "Stop it," I hiss.

He takes a step back, eyes wide, at my outburst.

"Stop trying to manipulate me. I don't appreciate being used." I glare at him, my anger bubbling over. Used by his ex for free cupcakes, used by him for lemon bars. I've had enough.

Before he can respond, I yank open the cupcake box, grab one, and fling it at him. The white frosting sticks to his blue jersey, while the chocolate cupcake bounces off and lands on the table.

Lou looks down at the mess, stunned. I can't help it. I grab another cupcake, and pull back my arm to throw it too.

"Maria, don't," he says, moving to grab me. But I dart around the table, laughing as I dodge his reach.

The cupcake flies past him, missing its target, but I don't care. The look on Lou's face is priceless. He picks up a cupcake from the table and lobs it at me, hitting my shoulder as I try to dodge. The curtain opens, but I don't care, I have a cupcake war to win.

The bright arena lights illuminate the ice as I dart out onto it. The team has stopped and is staring at me with wide eyes. I can't help but laugh at their shock, even as a cupcake, lands next to me.

I look back at Lou and throw another cupcake, the frosting splattering across the ice.

That's all it takes. Lou's team joins the war. They're grinning ear to ear grabbing their frosting covered ammo. Cupcakes fly through the air and I try to run out of the way, but the ice is slick. I slip, flailing my arms to try and regain my balance, without dropping the box of cupcakes in my arms. I don't dare lose them on the sugary battlefield.

One of the players skates over and grabs my arm, steadying me. I grin at him, breathless from laughter, and glance back at Lou, who's furiously pulling the guards off his skates, ready to chase after me.

In the middle of the chaos, I notice the Zamboni driver shouting and waving his hands. He must have taken his eyes off the controls because the machine is moving forward, crashing into the light stands. It's a chain reaction from there of curtains and tables going down. A cameraman catches it all, but doesn't watch his step and trips over a downed stand. He stumbles into Carrie who's holding a lit sparkler.

Everything happens in slow motion. The sparkler falls onto the downed curtain, and within seconds smoke begins to rise.

"Fire!" someone yells.

Lou is beside me in an instant, scooping me up in his arms. He skates us away from the danger as someone else rushes in with a fire extinguisher, dousing the flames before they can spread.

We stop at the edge of the rink, breathless and covered in frosting.

The absurdity of it all has me laughing harder than I have in ages. I'm laughing so hard I can barely catch my breath, but when I look at Lou, his expression is a mix of something else. Something that stops my laughter.

"This wasn't what I had in my plans for today," he mutters, setting me down.

"No," I agree, wiping a smudge of frosting off his cheek. "But at least this was my choice and not hers."

His lips twitch with amusement, "You wanted to set the world on fire, Cupcake?"

"I wanted my effort to mean something. I wanted to finally be seen."

Lou's expression softens, his usual playful demeanor giving way to something more. He leans in slightly, his eyes searching mine for something. The chaos around us has faded to the background, leaving just the two of us in a bubble while we figure this out.

He opens his mouth, hesitates, then quietly, and with so much sincerity, says "I see you."

The words are soft, but the force of them hit hard.

He keeps going. "I see how hard you work. How you put everything into everything you do and still hope it will be enough. And it is. It so is. If you'd let me I'd remind you every day not to listen to anyone that says otherwise."

"How?" I ask. "How can you see it?"

"Because I've spent years trying to live up to other people's reviews of me. That day the judges gave you that score? I had the worst game of my career. I ended up in the hospital with a concussion so bad I don't even remember the game, or how I tore my ACL. Let alone when my girlfriend dumped me while I was hooked up to an IV. Ever since, I've been trying to prove that I'm still worthy of this jersey. I've eaten so many lemons in an attempt to hold onto good luck I lost sight of everything else. Lost sight of the people around me."

The questions I've had, finally have answers. All those times I thought he played dumb, or pretended not to remember. He really didn't remember.

"You thought lemons were good luck?" I ask.

"You have no idea." He chuckles. "I had a very specific superstitious process for getting them from the store and everything."

"Would that include stealing lemons from a sweet baker in desperate need for a competition?" I ask.

He stares down at me. Realization dawning. "Is that what happened?"

I nod. "I was making a lemon meringue pie. You took the last ones the store had."

"Then the judges blasted you." he says with understanding. "I am so sorry. I will buy every lemon you ever need from now on."

Laughter bubbles out unexpectedly. "I think you've more than made up for it. But I'll make you all the lemon bars you need."

The realization that he understands, and isn't the horrible person I'd built him up to be in my imagination is a relief. He's not my arch nemesis, he's someone who's been through his own challenges, and if I have anything to do with it, will be victorious.

He shakes his head. "I don't need lemon bars."

"No?" I ask, worried he doesn't want anything to do with me now. I drop the box of cupcakes I'd been clinging to, barely registering when they hit the ice. I lift my hands up around his neck, pulling him closer.

"Maria..."

I don't let him finish, instead, I close the distance between us. Kissing him with everything that words can't say. It's everything I've been holding back, all the emotion I've kept locked away. As his arms come around me, I only briefly wonder if we should worry about melting the ice. Because this kiss, it's the connection of that something else I'd been avoiding, fighting, ignoring, trying to shove into a box, and it's bursting free.