Page 160 of The Wedding Menu

“Ooooh.” Ian nods. “What’s your name?”

She hesitates, giving him a shy smile as she rocks from one foot to the other. “Nevaeh. Like Heaven but backward.”

“Wow. My name, backward, is just Nai.”

“That’s silly.”

“It really is.” Ian stands, then turns to me and whispers, “What’s with the backward-words thing?”

Just as I shrug, someone enters the bakery from the back. We both turn around and, holy fuck, that is one hell of a handsome man right there. Dark hair and dark eyes, just like his daughter. But he’s also tall, wide-shouldered, and covered in flour. Which helps.

“Good afternoon.” His eyes dart to Nevaeh. “What did Daddy say about greeting customers alone?” She smiles mischievously and runs to the back, and only then do the man’s eyes meet mine. “Sorry for making you wait. It’s flu season and I’m out of personnel.”

I give him a quick shake of my head, but I’m still flabbergasted that a man this handsome exists. I mean, Ian’s just as gorgeous, but I’ve had time to get used to his beauty. This is hitting me all at once.

“You, sir, are one very handsome man,” Ian says. “Are you seeing that?” he adds as he turns to me with a surprised look.

Oh, Ian.

“Excuse myhusband,” I say when the man’s eyes narrow into a dangerous glare. “He’s… he has no filter. Just says anything that enters his brain.”

After a quick glance at me, the man focuses on Ian again.

“He—” I cup the back of Ian’s head. “There’s just a big, happy daisy field in here.”

The man smiles at me, and releasing a deep breath, I relax a little. I’m ready to bet he isn’t the one who usually handles clients, or this place wouldn’t be as famous as it is. “What can I help you with?”

Ian points to the board. “My wife booked a nuptial cake tasting.”

“Congratulations,” the man mumbles. “Wait—your wife? Are you getting married again?”

“No, we—it’s…” I shake my head. “I doubt you’ll remember, but you made a nuptial cake for my friend about two years ago. Barbara Wilkow.”

“Of course.” The man’s smile is genuine now. “Strawberry shortcake and white chocolate ganache with pink sugar paste.” When my brows raise, he shrugs. “I have a great memory.” His eyes dart from Ian to me, and he nods. “Well, sit down wherever. I’ll check your order and bring over the first samples.” Turning around, he approaches the coffee machine. “Can I offer you something to drink in the meantime?”

The door opens, the bell overhead ringing as a woman comes in like fury. “Sorry-sorry-sorry-sorry.I know, I’m sorry.” She approaches the man and kisses him on the lips. “Please don’t go all Mr. Asshole on me: Marina needed—”

“Marina knows how to handle herself far too well, and you’ve been overworking yourself.” He leans closer and returns the kiss. It’s not the passing kiss of a couple who’ve been together for years and are just saying hello. No, sir. It’s a full, loving kiss that almost makes me uncomfortable but stops just before it does. It’s full of love, full of—

I turn to Ian, and he’s wide-eyed, staring at me. These two are that couple! The couple at the Quinns’ wedding! The way they look at each other is just the same as how Ian stares at me. And I’m sure it’s how I stare at him.

Once the woman faces us, she smiles wide. “You must be Amelie and Ian. Wedding cake tasting, right? Can I get you anything to drink?”

“We’re good, thank you,” I say. We walk through the bakery,and I see beyond a pair of glass doors a gorgeous courtyard garden with tall columns and vines wrapped around them all the way to the skylight on the roof.

Turning to Ian, I smile excitedly. “Want to sit outside?”

“Martha’s planning a party for her anniversary,” I tell Ian as he looks worriedly at a coffee cake slice. I’m almost done with my half, but I’m used to him taking some time to try new things when it comes to food.

“Oh. In Creswell?”

I nod, then take a sip of water. “Two weeks from now.”

“Cool. We can also stop by and see your dad. It’s been a while.”

Since our wedding. We’ve kept in contact, mostly through texts, apart from his birthday and mine, when we spoke on the phone. Though I’d like to say things are all better, I’m not sure they’ll ever be. Not completely. “We would pass through Mayfield too.”

Ian’s eyes narrow, and he sticks his fork into the cake and shoves it into his mouth without a second thought.Interesting.Bringing up unpleasant topics speeds up the cake-eating process.

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