Page 33 of Semi Sweet
When I was too nervous to wait any longer, I typed the address into my phone and the GPS told me it was a five minute walk from the library. When I arrived at my destination, I was greeted by the sight of people coming and going from a chic looking cafe called Never Too Late For Cake. Standing in front of the window was an anxious Sean wearing a black fleece jacket with his hands in his pockets. His brown hair wasn’t hidden under a hat like it usually was. I’d been too drunk to really notice it last time.
He noticed me approaching and met me by the entrance. “Hey.”
I smiled weakly. “Hi.”
I went to open the door, but he beat me to it and gestured for me to go ahead of him. The cafe was busy and had tiny tables and wrought iron chairs scattered throughout the dining room. The waitresses wore uniforms that looked like they were made from upcycled pajamas. Along one wall was a counter housing a diverse spread of baked goods and finger foods, much more aligned with the cupcakes that Sean had been making. Anything sold at Cash Value Market seemed plain and ordinary in comparison.
“Table for two?” a hostess asked.
Sean nodded. “If you have anything in the back, that would be awesome.”
The hostess guided us behind a hedge of faux greenery where there were about half a dozen more tables and things seemed a bit more subdued. She gave us menus and said she would be back in a few minutes.
“Any particular reason why you spend your entire day in a bakery only to meet me in another one?” I asked as I scanned the menu.
“Research,” he replied. “Also, it’s open late.”
“Research?”
He nodded. “We’re not here to talk about that.”
I found myself blushing as I realized that he was right. The small talk might have been making me less nervous, but was putting off the inevitable.
The waitress returned just as I was getting ready to say something. “What can I get for you two?”
“I’ll have a coffee and a slice of your chocolate cake.” Sean replied.
“German or traditional?”
Without hesitation, he answered, “Traditional, please.”
The waitress turned her sights on me. “How about you, sweetie?”
“I’ll take coffee as well.” I scanned the menu one last time. “How about a slice of pie? Do you still have cherry?”
The waitress explained they baked twice a day before she dashed away, saying she’d have everything shortly. I looked over at Sean, who was studying me with an amused look on his face.
“What?”
“No cupcake?” he asked.
It hadn’t even dawned on me. “I typically get a note of some kind from my usual cupcake supplier,” I eventually countered. “It wouldn’t be the same.”
The waitress excused herself as she placed two large teal mugs of coffee in front of us, followed by generous slices of our ordered desserts. I was probably too nervous to eat, but I noticed Sean dug right in, having several forkfuls before taking a small memo pad and pen from his jacket pocket and writing several bullet pointed sentences in his sloppy script.
“What are you doing?”
Still writing and tasting, he answered, “Research.”
“You realize you’re going to have to explain yourself,” I said as I added cream and sugar to my coffee. “I’m invested now.”
Sean met my eyes, looking mildly embarrassed as he admitted, “I kind of have this life aspiration where I want to make a chocolate cake people travel hours for. My social life has been pretty nonexistent since moving, so I try a piece at the local bakeries and restaurants.”
“Isn’t that like stealing?” I questioned.
He shrugged. “I consider it studying the masters.” He took another bite. “I want to have my own bakery someday.”
I remembered the odd photo I’d seen hanging on the wall by his desk. “Is the photo of that storefront where you want to have your shop?”
