"Hi, Marci. All setup. I'll just take these and -"
“Oh good. Those look great. And the rest are over in those boxes then?” asked Marci cutting off Olivia's rambled thoughts.
Swallowing down her emotions Olivia nodded.
“The box right there,” she pointed to a white package on the opposite counter. “Yes, the extras are there. You should be all set. I’ll take the trash with me unless there is something else I can do for you?”
Marci smiled. “Perfect. Thank you again. Have a wonderful day, Olivia.”
With that, the hostess walked away fussing about some additional decorations as two more kids or maybe the same two kids, giggled around the room.
The boxes, now broken down, were longer than her arms. Her hands held them at an award angle, and she dropped one. Bending down, she grabbed it, and it unfolded. She tried to refold it and just gave up dragging part on the floor.
“Can I help you?” Ethan asked.
“Excuse me?” she asked. “Oh, the boxes.” When he’d offered to help her, images painted in sin flashed through her mind. Everything in her was wound so tight that at this second she'd find pleasure in the simple act of rubbing up against him on her way out.
Stepping into the freedom of the stuffy hall that smelled more of musty staleness than people, she could tell he was still watching her. Biting back a moan, her body ached, reminding her exactly how long it has been since a man touched her. Another red flag. Her fiancé had been the one to push for no sex until marriage. An old witch tradition that almost no one these days believed in. Until now though, Olivia had never really cared that much for sex. Maybe this was what all the hype was about? Perhaps the knowledge that tasting him even just once would never be enough gave her the proof nothing in her past had been right. Those eyes that she'd lose herself in any day said everything she'd never known she'd been missing.
He moved aside, his gaze never leaving her.
Clutching the empty boxes to her chest, she tried to focus on a spot in front of her. Anything to help her reach fresh air.
Don’t trip. Don’t do it.
A part of her wanted to wipe at the back of her dress, check and make sure she hadn't sat in anything. Maybe she didn't like all this attention.
I don't want to be married. It's fine if I never see him again. Correction. She didn’t want to marry some guy her parents had picked out. And, who was she kidding? Leaving him might be the hardest thing she'd ever done. Her legs shook like jelly with each step.
My cake is the lightest and sweetest in the city. I don't need him. Her shoes thudded against the carpet of the landing as she headed to the door. A lonely sound. She’d only ever wanted a family that loved her. Her mind was screaming that she'd been waiting for him.
Focusing on each breath, Olivia questioned why walking away from a stranger hurt. Stepping out onto the sidewalk she looked for the alley where there had to be a dumpster. The smell mixing with the hot heat of the day said there was definitely a dumpster.
Turning the corner, she picked one lining the wall and tossed in the boxes.
“Livi, right?”
Olivia started and dropped the dumpster lid with a clang vibrating off the brick. Turning around she caught a whiff of woody musk and nearly swooned in satisfaction. He smelled wonderful.
“Yes. That’s me. And you’re Ethan, right?”
He nodded and took a step closer. They simply studied each other, nothing else was said for several breaths.
“That cake was amazing.” Ethan spoke first.
Cake? What cake?
It took a minute to remember a few days earlier. Then she questioned how the man could look like her walking fantasy and have eaten an entire cake. Life wasn’t fair. Her ass could attest to that.
“So glad you liked it. Sorry it was ugly. I’m not good at cakes. I’m good at baking. That’s about the only thing I excel at. My ex, he was the decorator.”
Distant sounds filled the air between them, loud horns, tires squealing here and there. Unnerved, shifting her weight from one foot to the other several times before stopping.
Ethan grunted. “He sounds girly to me.”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “That’s kind of a rude comment.” She mulled it over. Was he saying that decorating was a girl job? Or was he implying it sounded like her ex was feminine? “You do realize lots of men cook, right?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Just didn’t expect a man to be the one to decorate cakes. I guess anyone can do whatever.”
“Not that I liked him much, but that is a really sexist comment.” She took a step forward, her hand raised pointing at him.
He stood his ground as she continued to close in. “So, you’re telling me he was man enough for you?”
Olivia stood toe to toe. The hint of soap reaching her.
Without another word, he leaned forward. Her body froze.
He kissed her cheek, and she nearly choked.
Wait, what? She'd just been mad. About what though?
“What? No. I mean yes? Oh, who cares? He left. But just remember anyone can do anything. Just because he decorated cakes doesn’t mean anything. He was a warlock. He wasn’t good for much except that man could conjure up some amazing edible arrangements.”
She frowned. “In the end though, I don't think I was good enough for him." She started falling into her own thoughts again. Annoyed that although she hadn’t really liked her ex, even he'd rejected her.
Ethan said nothing. She watched as he sniffed the air. Her own nose curled as the scent of sour trash permeated the space, trapped by the red brick around them and the cracked black asphalt.
Forcing down her pride and remembering the fact she was starting to love herself, she decided to at least try
