Chapter 18 Amanda

Chapter 18

Amanda

Reindeer Bakes smells like warm chocolate chip cookies. I shouldn’t want to swim in anything that evokes feelings of warmth, but the heat is forecast to break this weekend, and it’s close enough that I’m letting myself stand in the middle of the pink-and-black bakery and just inhale.

When I open my eyes, Dane’s staring at me.

He was quiet once we were both back at the cabin last night. He’s trying to save his vacation time for a trip to Thailand— Thailand!! —next year, hence why he’s working half time while he’s in Tinsel. Chili and I went out on the back porch to watch the sunset and mull over the letters.

And for the first time in a long time, I wished that a man was sitting next to me to watch the sunset and talk about how amazing it was to see my mom hugging his sister and cousin and to throw out random theories about the letters too.

He was still working when I went to bed, and when I arrived in the kitchen this morning, he was already up, iced eggnog lattes waiting.

Now, we’re having an early cake tasting so Pia knows what flavor we want for our wedding cake.

For our wedding that’s in three days .

Our wedding that won’t happen, but that we can’t cancel yet because our families aren’t yet getting along and I don’t yet have a solution to the question of who will step into the Gingerbread House in Grandma’s shoes.

I wrench my gaze away from Dane’s and smile at Pia, who’s a Black woman just a little older than us. She’s wearing a pink apron with dancing reindeer on it and the largest smile I’ve ever seen on her.

Unlike me, she was happy to join the family baking business.

Also unlike me, she’s even better at this than her grandma and mom were, which is impressive.

But the smile suggests she’s as thrilled as everyone else in town that Dane and I are tackling this family feud problem.

“Who’s ready for some wedding cake?” she asks us.

Chili’s paw would be up if he were with us today, but he’s hanging with Lorelei again. Apparently cake is his second favorite treat after hot dogs, and he can’t be trusted in bakeries.

“Would it be wrong to have a cookie cake?” I ask her. “Dane loves your cranberry oatmeal cookies, and I would die of happiness if my apartment smelled like your fresh chocolate chip cookies every day for the rest of my life.”

“Absolutely an option.” She gestures to a small table set up near a display case of holiday-themed cupcakes. “But will you try the cake flavors before you decide?”

I grin back while we all take seats. “Oh, the torture.”

“Anyone else joining you today?” Pia asks.

“I invited my mom, but she wasn’t sure she could leave the bakery again today after dress shopping yesterday,” I report.

“No updates from my dad either,” Dane says, something in his voice making my heart ache.

Pia looks between us. She apparently noticed too. “You two okay?”

I instantly shift closer to him—natural reaction to the question when all needs to look right between us, plus, it’s not awful to be near him—and dial up the smile to an eleven. “Of course!”

“We’d be better if our families had any valid reason at all to object to us being together,” Dane says.

“I’m sure they’ll come around,” I say.

He eyes me like my optimism might be able to move boulders, but it won’t budge certain members of our families.

“I hear it’s the oldest generation giving you the most trouble,” Pia says.

He didn’t give me much of an update on his day yesterday, but I heard from Lorelei that their dad was fighting with their grandparents over the wedding and not feeling great about being stuck in the middle between his parents and his kid.

I shouldn’t tell you this, but I don’t think Dane will because he wants to protect you from it , her message said with the details.

“They’re the most set in their ways,” Dane says. “You ever hear anything about why they hate each other so much?”

Pia shakes her head. “Whatever happened predates my family moving here. Also, if you tell me you want a gingerbread-flavored cake or fruitcake cookies, you’re going to have to find a new wedding cake baker. I’m excited about this wedding and happy to work overtime all weekend on your cake, but I have lines.”

Even Dane cracks a smile at that.

I miss his smiles.

Whatever happened yesterday must’ve been bad.

“Understood,” he says.

“I’d never ask you to do that,” I agree. “My grandma is already insisting on doing gingerbread men for wedding favors, even though she hates that we’re getting married.”

Dane sighs again and presses his palms into his eye sockets.

I rub his back. “I’ll go charm your uncle and ask about fruitcake favors too.”

“And my cake will outshine them all,” Pia says. “Here. Let’s start with this sample. White chocolate cake with a cherry ganache filling and a pistachio frosting. It’s very popular with Christmas brides for its color, and also, it’s delicious.”

She’s not kidding.

I’ve never been a huge pistachio fan, but she did something magic with the frosting, and the flavors meld together like there’s a party of happiness happening in my mouth.

Dane’s eyes slide shut as he chews, and he sighs the sigh of a man in utter heaven, the slightest smile curving his lips upward again and peace settling over his expression.

It makes my nipples tight and my heart happy.

He’s sexy and in a better mood.

“Damn good cake,” he says.

Pia grins widely. “And we’re just getting started.”

The door bells jingle. “We’re not open yet—oh. Hello, Mr. Silver. Mrs. Anderson.”

Dane and I both spin in our seats to stare at the door.

Our parents are walking in together.

Our parents are walking in together.

We look at each other.

Then at our parents.

Mom showing up or Dane’s dad showing up was somewhat expected.

But together ?

Is this coincidence, or is our plan working even better than we thought on certain members of our family?

“Cake’s important,” Mom says. “You don’t want to pick a flavor that your guests won’t like, even if it’s your favorite.”

“I never turn down cake samples,” Mr. Silver says.

They look at each other, then they both hesitantly smile.

“I can’t argue with that,” Mom says.

“Very good point about the guests,” Mr. Silver says.

Dane squeezes my knee, and I gulp hard and blink harder against the heat in my eyeballs.

Pia spins into motion. “Give me five minutes to grab a few more samples. Never hurts to have more opinions, but you two will be in time-out if you make the bride and groom upset, understand?”

The bride and groom.

She’s talking about us.

Dane squeezes my knee again. The lies will be worth it in the end. We’re doing community service here.

I hope he’s right.

I’m afraid he’s not, but I hope he is.

“Hello,” my mom says, extending a hand to Dane’s dad. “I’m Kimberly. I’m not sure we’ve ever been properly introduced.”

My eyes bulge, and I stifle a squeak.

They’ve never been introduced ?

No way.

But Dane’s dad is taking Mom’s hand and shaking. “Harry Silver. Nice to meet you.”

Are they playing us?

I glance at Dane.

His mouth is slightly ajar like he, too, is questioning what kind of game this is.

My parents were college sweethearts.

Mom grew up somewhere in Pennsylvania and didn’t arrive in Tinsel until she and my dad were basically newlyweds.

It’s entirely possible my mom and Dane’s dad haven’t ever met. Crossed paths in the grocery store, likely. Probably attended school functions together for us kids. But never actually introduced despite probably knowing exactly who the other was.

Wow.

“Fascinating times,” Mr. Silver adds.

“Indeed,” Mom agrees.

Pia dashes back in from the kitchen with a bottle of champagne under one arm and an extra set of samples in her other hand. “Beautiful day for a cake tasting, isn’t it? Will there be more family coming, or just you two?”

“Just me from Amanda’s side,” Mom says at the same time Mr. Silver replies, “No one else from my family.”

I look at Dane again.

He’s closed his mouth, but a muscle is working in his jaw.

I wish Chili was here.

“So, to catch you up, here’s our first flavor,” Pia says. “White chocolate cake, cherry ganache filling, pistachio frosting.”

Mom and Mr. Silver both moan over the cake.

Then they make eye contact and smile a little less hesitantly at each other.

“At least you have good taste,” Mom says.

“Not as good as Amanda’s,” Mr. Silver replies.

I grab Dane’s hand and squeeze.

It’s happening. They’re trying. They’re finding common ground. A Silver just complimented my taste.

Even if it was a veiled reference to anyone who picks my son has good taste , or maybe it’s a subtle I know she likes my family’s fruitcake , but Mom doesn’t seem offended.

If anything, she’s smiling wider. “She gets it from me.”

“You like fruitcake too?” Dane says.

Dane.

Who’s supposed to not inflame the situation .

Mom’s ears go bright red. “I ... may have enjoyed a piece or two in my time. When I found leftovers in Amanda’s lunch box.”

I squeak. “Impossible. I always threw it away. Always.”

“Not always,” Mom says. “Those birthday parties in elementary school would get you every time. You’d forget someone brought cupcakes or doughnuts or cookies, and your afternoon fruitcake snack would end up at our house.”

“Lorelei was my best friend,” I blurt.

Both Mom and Mr. Silver cringe.

“I know.” Mom sighs.

Mr. Silver nods. “I did too.”

“And you know what?” I add. “It sucked . I never got to hang out with her after school. Whenever one of you would chaperone a field trip, I couldn’t be in her group. I couldn’t go cheer her on at her softball games, and she never felt like she could get me flowers after a play.”

My eyes are getting hot and my chest is getting heavy.

Dane slips an arm around me and squeezes. “I’m good with you being best friends with Lorelei.”

Best. Fake. Fiancé. Ever.

I lean into him and squeeze my eyes shut while I stuff down the emotions. “Thank you.”

He kisses my hair. “Of course.”

This.

This is the kind of relationship I could have.

“I’m sorry, Amanda,” Mom says quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

“I am too,” Mr. Silver says.

“So end it,” Dane says. “Quit. Fucking. Fighting. Be better. Do better. For the whole damn town.”

Mom’s eyes are going shiny too. She blinks quickly. “I will.”

Mr. Silver claps a hand to Dane’s shoulders. “I’m so proud of you, son.”

Dane stiffens, and he barely relaxes when his dad adds, “You’re doing what none of the rest of us have ever had the courage to do.”

That’s odd.

That’s very odd.

I shoot a look at Pia.

“Cake!” she says like things are getting too emotional in here for her. “More cake. Our next selection is a chocolate fudge cake with a homemade marmalade filling and a cinnamon frosting.”

Cake.

Wedding cake.

For the ruse that’s coming with entirely too many real emotions.

We’re getting close with two generations of our families.

Now if we can just get Dane’s uncle and all our grandparents on board, he and I will be able to go back to our normal lives.

But better.

But worse, because I think I might miss Dane more than I can bear to admit.