Page 50 of Loving Josy
“Sorry. I’m fucking with you. But for real, thanks. It’s been a long time since I’ve had your mom’s cake.”
“It hasn’t beenthatlong.” Esteban raises an eyebrow, like he’s offended I’d even suggest such a thing. “You had it last September at my birthday. Besides, you know Mami can bake you a cake whenever you want. All you have to do is ask.”
Austin jumps in from across the room. “I’m asking now. Tell her I need one for Valentine’s Day. Oh, and maybe some of those Nutella puff pastries while she’s at it.”
Esteban lets out a dramatic groan, though his smirk gives him away. “Bro,I’m not running a bakery out of my mom’s kitchen.”
“Why not?” Austin shoots back with a grin. “She’d make a killing.”
I shake my head, chuckling as their back-and-forth escalates. Typical. But it’s true, Esteban’s mom really could give any bakery a run for its money. Her cakes are legendary, soft and moist with the kind of flavor that makes you stop mid-bite to savor it.
Esteban may have been born here, but he’s always been proud of his roots. His parents came straight from Puerto Rico and Esteban still flies to the island at least once a year to visit family. He’ll spend weeks there, eating his weight inarroz con gandulesandtostonesand posting pictures of pristine beaches that make me jealous as hell.
The man speaks perfect Spanish too. Not just the formal stuff you’d hear in high school classes, but the quick, sharp flow of the island, full of slang and rhythm. Sometimes I forget he’s bilingual until he smashes his hand with a hammer or cuts himself on the job site. That’s when the Spanish curses start flying—fast, loud, and colorful. By now, I’ve learned enough to knowexactlywhat he’s yelling about when he stubs his toe.
“Just wait until Josy tries this cake,” Esteban says, snapping me out of my thoughts. “It’ll blow her mind. No one bakes and cooks like Mami.”
He’s not wrong. Esteban’s mom can cook like it’s her life’s calling. I’m talking food that warms your soul and makes you want to lick the plate clean.
I glance at the cake again, perfectly frosted and sitting on the table like it’s just waiting for someone to ruin it with the first cut.
Josy’s been working herself to the bone on the coffee shop, juggling a million things at once. She never stops, never letsherself pause long enough to celebrate anything. But tonight? Tonight’s different.
Tonight, she gets to enjoy herself.
I glance at my watch. “Violet just texted me. They’re leaving the shop now. We’ve got about fifteen minutes.”
“Perfect timing.” Austin grabs a small soccer ball balloon and ties it to the back of a chair, grinning. “Adrian’s gonna love this when he sees it.”
I smirk. “Josy might roll her eyes, but she’ll love it too.”
“She’ll love all of this,” Esteban says, clapping me on the back. “Especially that cake. It’s gonna blow her mind.”
I hope so.God,I hope so. I’ve spent weeks watching Josy overwork herself, barely pausing long enough to eat or rest, let alone celebrate anything. The shop’s been her focus, and every time I try to take something off her plate, she swats my hand away—figurativelyandliterally.
But tonight’s different. She doesn’t know it yet, but tonight she doesn’t have to be in charge of anything.
A loud honk from outside breaks through the conversation. Violet’s car. I don’t have to check my phone to know they’ve arrived. My heart kicks up a notch as Austin and Esteban rush to their spots—Austin by the light switch and Esteban crouching awkwardly behind the counter like a five-year-old playing hide-and-seek.
“Dude, she’s not gonna be looking for you,” I mutter to him, but he just grins and stays put.
The door opens, and I hear Violet’s voice first, loud and cheerful. “Come on, Josy! I told you it’s just a quick dinner.”
Josy’s response is muffled, but I can practically hear her skepticism. “Violet, why do you sound like you’re up to something?”
The second Josy steps inside, Austin flips the lights on.
“SURPRISE!”
The shouts echoe through the room, and I catch the exact moment Josy freezes in place. Her wide eyes dart over the decorations, the balloons, the banner—and finally land on me. I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face as I step forward.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
Josy blinks, clearly overwhelmed. “What is this?” Her voice is soft, almost disbelieving.
“Your birthday party,” I say, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Did you really think we’d let the day slide by without celebrating you?”
She shakes her head slowly, a smile starting to curve her lips. “Violet told me we were just?—”
