“Livi, that doesn’t look like the sketch. Maybe you just need a break?”
“No. It’s not what they wanted, that’s the issue. I can’t get it right. A break isn't going to help.”
Bridgette, her assistant, pointed at a baby booty. “That sort of looks like a clog. Maybe we can put tulips on it and a windmill and pass it off as some kind of Holland spring theme.”
Olivia rubbed a hand over her eyes. “You know what. I’m going to just figure something else out. I need to call them. If I’m lucky they will accept cupcakes instead. Perhaps I can donate this thing to the firehouse. Sort of a thank you for keeping the city safe.”
“I'm game for looking at some firemen, but they might think you're trying to poison them. Is it even edible?” asked Bridgette.
“Bridg, I love you, but I'm not afraid to fire you. Of course, it's edible. I can make icing. It's just meant for cupcakes.”
“Point taken. Why don't you ask Harold to come finish his orders?”
Olivia shuddered. “Nope. Can't. I already deleted his number. And he's already playing house. I don't want to ruin that, and I don't want him back. She can keep him. I seriously can't sit through one more boring conversation."
“That is the dumbest excuse. Throw some toothpicks under those peepers and just deal. We obviously need him Livi.” Bridgette crossed her arms.
Flashback of the last six months streamed before her eyes, in about two seconds. It was like déjà vu every day. Nothing ever changed. Ever. Her mother fawning over the good-looking Harold who was doing something reputable with his life. Olivia, the disappointment. The witch community might have been thousands, but sometimes the world pressed down on her like she was a tin can about to be crushed.
She'd make this bakery as human as possible because at this point she'd been all but shoved out of the community. The world awaited her. Shifters, vampires, dark and light Fae and whatever else she'd read about. Maybe, for once she'd see the world as something other than a witch. Something other than a dutiful daughter and a submissive fiancée.
“No! He should have left the business when we broke up and then we wouldn't even have this mess.” Olivia chewed on her bottom lip. “He accepted this order knowing he was leaving, but one cake doesn't define me. I can’t look at this thing anymore. The firehouse wins today. Maybe it will help me clear my head and figure out what to do next.”
A quick dust off of her hands against the apron and a deep exhale had her ready to give up. She needed this stupid thing gone. Olivia wasn’t a cake person. That was her ex. And this three-tiered thing was reminding her of him.
Bracing the cake against her forearms, she headed for the door and pushed with her butt. The metal hinges creaked open as she stepped into the back alley.
“Bridgette, from this day forth we are a cupcakery, and that is final."
The heavy door slammed before Bridgette could argue.
Two buildings to go and she'd be done with this thing. A quick whisper to the wind and the load of the cake lightened. Nature liked her. It was merely her mother and the rest of the witching world that didn't. A smile crossed her lips. Maybe she could go live in the forest with the Fairies and shifters. At least, she thought that’s who lived out there. She didn't know much really, because witches stuck with witches. That's how it worked.
The heat of the afternoon burned Olivia’s cheeks as she took steps toward a new start. Even as she told herself she was strong and independent, the cake screamed something different.
She could do this. She could. The bakery had been her dream, not Harold's. How two years of being with him had stripped her of confidence was beyond her.
"Nope. No, you don't cake. No cake can define me."
The red brick of the firehouse towered over the back alley. Her skin instantly cooled as she entered the shade.
The alley grew quiet as the tapping of her shoes stopped. Olivia knocked against the door. She waited, and as if to crush her soul one last time, a plop of icing fell at her feet.
"What a year," she said to no one.
She knocked again. With her luck, they’d be out on a call or something.
This cake needs to go. The dumpster next to the building caught her eye as a puff of cold air met her.
“Can I help you?” asked a male voice.
She took in the shirtless male in front of her. God liked him way more than he liked her, that was for damn sure. Her mouth grew dry as her eyes studied his bulging shoulders, glistening abs, and pecs that screamed 'lick me.'
Heat pooled between her thighs. “Oh, God.” She squeaked.
That had been out loud. Her eyes grew wide, and Olivia tried to find a spot on the white wall behind him. Anything to avoid his reaction. “Excuse me?” the guy asked.
“I. Er. Uhm. Cake?”
His brow furrowed. “Are you asking if we eat cake or if we ordered a cake?”
He looked around at the tiers. “I’m pretty sure we didn’t order a baby-shower cake though. That’s not really our thing.”
Deep breaths. Deep breaths.
“I. No. I mean. I have this cake. I messed it up, and I can’t bear to throw it out. Do you guys want the cake?”
His face lit up. “Oh. Yeah. Here, can I help?”
She pulled it back. “No. No. Let me. Where can I set it down?”
His mouth pulled aside. “Well, who am I to tell a lady she can’t have her way? This way.” He paused. “You sure though? I don’t mind.”
On autopilot, she started to walk. What had
