When We Touch

“It doesn’t look anything like it used to.” Her voice is a whisper as she walks carefully around the living room, touching the back of the couch, the pillows. “It was only a shack when we came here.”

“Dad had it completely redone.”

She nods. “I remember when it was happening. I… I never could bring myself to come back. Not after…”

“I know.” I do know. We shared several firsts here. I painted her here. We can revisit those times later. “So you went to culinary school?”

That gets me a laugh, musical and soft. “No.” She shakes her head. “I never went to culinary school. I did hair. I sold makeup, I sold leggings, I was a teller at the bank for about five minutes…”

“Jesus, you’ve done everything in Oceanside!” I laugh because my insides are warm with love.

“Not true,” she laughs, leaning into me for a quick kiss. “I never painted houses. I never worked at the hardware store, and I never made poboys.”

“What got you interested in cakes?” I push a lock of damp hair behind her ear. “How did that start?”

“When Coco had her first birthday, I’d planned this whole Little Mermaid theme.” She sits on her knees on the couch, and I walk around to sit in front of her. “I wanted a cake with blue raspberry and strawberries and cookies for the clam shells…”

“What happened?” Her energy telling this story pulls me in.

“Everybody looked at me like I was crazy. If it wasn’t a basic round, two tiered sponge, nobody knew how to do it.”

She’s already talking over my head, but I don’t want her to stop. “So?”

“So I found a cake baking book and I did my research and I made it myself.” She sits back, a smug look on her face.

“And it was good,” I finish for her.

She leans forward as if letting me in on a secret. “It was really good.” Her nose wrinkles, and she’s fucking adorable. “My aunt Agnes—”

“The lady who owned the five and dime?”

“Yes!”

“She always gave me free candy.”

A sly smile curls Ember’s lips. “Cinnamon.”

I can’t resist. I lean forward and kiss her. “Tell me more about the cakes.” We’re catching up so fast, our conversations flying from one memory to the next seamlessly.

“Aunt Agnes believed in me from the start. She said I had a natural gift for baking. I started baking cakes for birthday parties, which led to special occasions, and eventually weddings. It started as a hobby until I read a magazine article about Peggy Porschen…”

I frown and shake my head, and she explains. “Peggy Porschen owns this super-famous bake shop in London. It’s gorgeous. It has flowers everywhere and chandeliers and the whole front entrance is pink with a huge rose garland above the door…”

“I understand your interior design choices now,” I tease, but she’s serious.

“It’s everything I aspire to be. I’m going to work my ass off, own my own shop, and take care of Coco and me… And maybe I can bring some business back to Oceanside.”

Sliding my finger along the line of her cheek, I don’t say aloud that I plan to be the one taking care of her and Coco. I love her dream, and she can bake as much as she wants. But now that I have her in my arms again, no one is taking her away from me—past or present. Ember Rose is mine from now on.

A shadow crosses her face, and my chest tightens. “What’s wrong?”

“My mother says it’s a ridiculous pursuit, especially as a career path. She doesn’t believe anyone will pay enough for cake to support a family.”

“I don’t like to agree with your mother, but in this part of the country, where everyone bakes…”

She nods, grasping my forearm. “I know, but Aunt Agnes was looking ahead to the future, to where we are now. Things have changed so much so fast!”

“You’re right.” I nod, lacing our fingers. “In the city, a cake shop like yours could easily support your little family with plenty left over. Here, you might have to get more creative with your business plan.”