Page 62 of Maid of Dishonor

“Hello?” I say, answering the call as I walk away.

“Hi,” Maya says. Like the last time we spoke, she doesn’t sound like herself; her voice is gloomy, morose.

“What’s up?” I say, stepping out of the bakery and into the sun. I begin pacing on the sidewalk, anxious to hear what Maya has to say. Hopefully this call is about calling off the wedding.

“Carter,” she says, and she hesitates before going on. “Am I making a mistake? Is marrying Chet a bad idea?”

“Yes,” I say. “It’s a very bad idea.” Harsh, maybe, but I’m not going to sugarcoat the truth. Especially not when it’s about something as life-changing as getting married.

Maya sighs. “I don’t know why I expected anything different from you,” she says, sounding a little peeved. “I just…I feel like I’m seeing all these signs that maybe the universe doesn’t want this for me after all. Maybe this isn’t my destiny.”

I stop pacing, settling for standing still instead. I try to keep my voice casual as I say, “What signs?”

Another sigh from Maya. “I checked my spam folder in my email, and my daily horoscope from a little while back was there. I don’t know why I got two for that day,” she says, sounding confused.

…Oops.

“What did it say?” I ask, eager to move past that little slip-up.

“It basically says that I’m rushing into a big decision and that I need to ask advice from the people closest to me! And the only big decision I’m making right now is whether to get married. And I really…” She trails off, but I don’t speak; I need to let her keep going. “I think maybe we should hold off on any more planning. I won’t cancel anything yet—let’s leave our reservations and stuff in place—but…maybe give me a few days to mull this over. Is that okay?” she says.

“Absolutely,” I say. I feel like shouting my relief from the rooftops, but I know we’re not quite out of the woods yet.

“Maybe…hmm,” she says, her voice musing now. “Maybe if anything else happens, I’ll call it off.”

I nearly groan, but I manage to hold it in. That means we need to orchestrate one more sign from the universe. We’ll need to hunt down some tarot cards.

“That sounds reasonable, right?” she says, and I realize that she’s been talking this whole time.

“Yeah,” I say quickly. “I mean—well, I guess that’s not how I make decisions, but if that’s how you want to do it, go for it. Personally, it seems to me like you have serious reservations about marrying Chet, which means it’s probably worth holding off. But sure, you can wait and see if the universe says anything else.”

When we say goodbye, Maya seems a little better, and I can’t help but think it’s because she’s looking for reasons not to go through with this wedding. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to try a bunch of different cakes, though.

I go back inside, breathing deeply to get as much of that bakery scent as I can. Sam is still seated at the little table off to one side, but there are now several plates with different kinds of cake in front of her, as well as little saucers with lumps of frosting.

“Have you ever seen anything as beautiful as this?” Sam says reverently as I sit down.

I grin, looking over the spread. “It looks pretty good.”

“I’m going to start with chocolate, obviously,” Sam says, pulling closer a plate with two squares of chocolate cake. She picks up one of the pieces and bites into it slowly, her eyes closing as she smiles.

“Mmm,” she hums happily. When she’s done chewing, she opens her eyes. “You know, I’m sorry to have to use this word, but that’s incredibly moist cake.” She takes another bite, finishing off her portion of the chocolate.

I choose some sort of pink cake to try first. I’m not sure if it’s strawberry or raspberry or what, but I’m guessing it’s good. I’ve never had abadpink cake.

“Strawberry,” I say with a nod, covering my mouth as I speak so Sam doesn’t get treated to a view of the food I’m chewing. “You’re right—very moist. That’s really good.”

Sam just smiles again, and I take a moment to appreciate how cute she is right now. She’s doing a little happy dance in her chair, her eyes closed, her lips tilted up in delight. This is Sam’s dream, just sitting here and trying a bunch of cakes. Whowouldn’tlove this, for that matter?

I move past the selection of cakes and look at the saucers of frosting. There’s a dark brown, which must be chocolate, as well as several that are off white, two that are pink, and two that are light brown. One of the light browns, pushed all the way across the table,reminds me of the salted caramel frosting Sam put on my birthday cake a few years ago, so I lean forward, pull it closer, and dip my finger in, eager to taste it.

But Sam, whose eyes have just opened, stops me. “Oh, no, no, no!” she says quickly, grabbing my hand when it’s inches away from my mouth. Her eyes are wide as she says, “No—that’s the peanut butter. That’s why I put it over there. He reassured me everything else should be fine as far as cross-contamination, but that one’s got peanuts. Here, quick, get it off.” She looks around the table, realizing at the same time as me that there aren’t any napkins. Her fingers are still wrapped around my wrist, and for the first time it occurs to me that Sam has really beautiful hands. It’s such a stupid thing to think about, but it’s true; they’re graceful and feminine without being weak or frail. The faint callouses speak of how hard she works at everything she does—

And I’m going mental. I’m absolutely going insane, sitting here and thinking about her hands when I should be thinking about my allergy.

But every particle of my brain shuts down when Sam leans closer, tugging on my wrist, andlicksme, running her tongue up my finger. My stomach clenches, my mind halts, and electric heat floods through my veins. She’s so close that I’m inundated by her peach scent, intoxicated by her soft lips, mesmerized by her eyelashes as they fan over her cheeks.

A few more licks and the peanut butter frosting is gone, and I am in hell. This is hell. This is my own personal torture, designed to make me lose my everloving mind.

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