Standing By: A Knight's Tale #2 (20 page)

“You don’t need the condom,” I protest. “As long as we’re married, you are not having sex with anyone.”

“We should change that,” he retorts. “I think we—you and I—should have sex.”

“I think you’re delirious but you don’t see me saying that out loud, do you?”
Yes, sex,
I want to say, but
no
because… I’ll come up with a reason. I look at that hot body of his and the only reason I find is to search for a shrink to figure out what is wrong with me.

“Don’t worry, Miss Muffet,” he walks to the kitchen without taking his predatory eyes off me. He’s using his low husky voice that sounds the same as the raspy tone he has in the morning which makes my insides squirm. “I like long term projects, the longer I wait, the better it’ll taste.” He licks his lips and disappears.

I gulp.

*

“Beating until fluffy
sounds too girly, Hayl,” Mitch keeps beating the butter and cream cheese for the icing while mumbling and complaining about my instructions. I’ve been a good sport about his innuendos over
kneading harder
,
punch like you mean it
and the infamous
squeeze it tight, pinch and pull, baby
comments while he teaches me to make artisan bread. Sophie, the new baker who started two days ago is waiting on customers while Mitch and I finish the order the oh, so ever charming man promised to have ready by ten in the morning.

My mistake, for leaving him in charge of the customers while I continued with Sophie’s training and decorated the cake for Susan Darling. The man sold four-dozen double chocolate cookies and cream-filled cupcakes. If he asked me, I’d have said yes but we can’t have them ready until afternoon; definitely not committing suicide by agreeing to have it all completed by ten in the morning.

“Ready for the sour cream, boss.” He pushes the bowl closer to me. “Am I working as expected?”

“I’m thinking you won’t get that extra cupcake, Muffin boy, not with that attitude.” I pour the vanilla extract and powdered sugar before I start counting the three-minute beating. “At what time did you really come home, grumpy? I’m thinking you didn’t sleep much.”

“I wasn’t at a party,” he stops whisking when I touch his right arm and looks at me. “Some days, I think that restaurant isn’t working for me, and I should sell it. It’s the location or the chefs or the customers. Have I told you that you look hot when you wear your glasses?”

I touch my frames. Yesterday I lost my last pair of contacts; the new pair won’t arrive until the end of the week. Instead of ignoring him for giving me a compliment, I stand on my tiptoes; he bends, and I kiss his cheek. I take the icing from him and get it ready to frost the cooled cupcakes.

“You do, don’t start worrying about your mother’s—”

“I’m not, Mitch,” Mom has been a pain lately. Her daily visits are starting to wear heavy on me.

“Are you pregnant yet,” she asked yesterday, no she demanded to know yesterday. “He’s going to find someone who doesn’t look like a slob and leave you without a penny.”

“I’m good, Mitch,” I swirl the frosting, reminding myself the promise I made yesterday. No matter what she said today, I will not cut myself. Yeah, like that will work. I threw away the blades in order to stick to that promise and now I’m using a knife. Wanting to change the subject, I continue with the restaurant issue. “Do you want me to come over tonight and help?”

“Are you going to threaten my chef with a knife?”

“Only if you want me to,” I chuckle, because I offered that the other day when one of them was driving the entire kitchen staff insane. “Why don’t you fire them?”

“I can’t until I find someone to replace them,” he explains and my lips draw into a smile knowing that he tells me these things. He asks for my opinion, and it really feels like we’re in a relationship. “If I fire them before that, I’ll have to work there full time. No more
us
time.”

“I can come and work for you.” I offer him.

“No, you’ll get less than three hours of sleep, like me. We won’t have any leisure time; that’s a
no
. They all stay until we find new chefs.”

I don’t’ turn to look at him since the frosting process is delicate, and I only have ten extra cupcakes—my margin of error. When I finish the first, I place a half Oreo and pat it down.

“Place one of the half Oreo cookies on the side, like the one I finished. Then put them in the containers.” I crook my index finger inviting him to walk close to me, and when he complies, I give him a kiss. “You need a break.”

“We’ll get one soon,” his eyes soften and he kisses my nose and then brushes my lips. “Sex still off the table?”

I shake my head and chuckle.

“Get to work, if we pull this one off, you might be able to breathe another day, Knight. Earlier today, I thought this was going to turn out to be a day from hell but it’s not. Everything is running smoothly and the order from Mr. We Can Do Everything is just about ready.”

“No, I said
Pieces of Heaven
can deliver on time, ma’am,” I look up to see him shoving three cookies in his mouth at the same time. “What?”

“You need to stop eating my inventory,” I tell him. “From now on, it’s a quarter inside the jar for each time you eat something.”

“Slave driver, no wonder no one wants to work for you.” He whispers. “At least fake it in front of Sophie or she might come to work for me.”

“Forty-eight!” I say, ignoring his snarling comment. I fist bump the air like a ridiculous teenage boy from the previous decade.

“I love when you are happy,” his deep eyes stare at me. I hunch over to make sure he takes that sudden attention away from me because if not, I’ll say, “
Let’s go upstairs and have sex, Mitch.
” He shakes his head and sets that last cupcake inside the container before closing the last box. “Now to deliver the goodies.”

“Deliver?” I ask. “We don’t do delivery.”

“We do today; they paid extra for the service,” I press my temples hard and let him go. “I’ll be back in a few. Save the promised cupcake inside the fridge, I’ll bring back a coffee to enjoy the full effect. Seriously think about my idea of investing in an espresso machine and renting the space next door. You’ll have a full café, the way you want it.”

As he leaves, I follow right behind and to my surprise a woman appears, hair tied in a tight bun, tall in her high heels and a crisp two-piece suit: Bridget Parrish. Great, Mitch, who should deal with this woman, is gone. Out in the free world, delivering forty-eight cupcakes that cut my night by an hour. I hate waking up at three; the four o’clock established time by Mitch is so much better. Now that I think about it, he didn’t sleep at all. Poor baby.

“It surprises me that you’re still in business.” She pats her hair with one hand. “But I think it’s time for your little game to come to end, and I’m here to see it through.”

“If you don’t leave,” I clench my hands, my words charged with the same intensity as the heat flushing my face. “I’ll call the police and file charges for harassment. This is private property, and you’re not welcome.”

“Tomorrow the headlines will read ‘Cakes and Rats.’” She takes a small camera and begins snapping pictures of my place. The temperature in the room drops from inferno hot to polar arctic. Her chin tilts higher and the memory of how much power her friends have in this city slams right in my face. “The health department is on its way to close your establishment. I paid them enough to never let you reopen again.”

“Why are you doing this to me? I never did anything to you,” I clear my throat, straighten my shoulders and try to remember how to interlace the words in the right order.

“Bridget, what are you doing here?” my father’s voice and the door chime sound at the same time. “I forbid you to return to this place. Leave my girl alone.”

“Your
girl
is Paige.” Bridget turns to where he stands. “This
nobody
needs to go back to that hellhole where she belongs.”

“Hay-Bear?”

“Leave me alone, please,” I bite my tongue until the rust-like flavor of blood brings a release of pain. “I never did anything to you, never. This business is my entire life, what did I do to you?”

“You took away my husband,” the maniac says.

I want to remind her that was my mother, not me.

“My ex-mother-in-law loved you more than Paige, and so did Melanie, who I don’t give a fuck about, but why you and not Paige? By tomorrow, you’ll be packing up this place.”

I swallow the blood that continues draining from the cut in my tongue I made with my teeth. This time nothing I do makes me feel any better. I turn around, cross the swinging door and grab the knife I used to cut the Oreos. Heading to the restroom, I pull my t-shirt up and slash myself several times.
She can’t take away my bakery
. Then I stare at my wrists.

“Hayley, no, baby,” my father screams. A hand grabs the knife. “My god, cupcake, what have you been doing to yourself?”

My chest tightens. There’s a pain in the back of my throat, and I want the knife back, to push it through all the way, blood gushing as I stain the kitchen the health department will declare unsanitary. I find myself staring down at my hands and the now bloody belly that I didn’t finish punishing, the place I couldn’t open wide enough to let the hurt dissipate. The knife drops to the floor, and my father’s arms are around me but I can’t move to reciprocate. He wants me to fail too, and I can’t fight against them anymore.

“Cupcake, I’m here for you.” I hear a sob, and I’m not sure if it’s him or me. It clearly makes no difference. At this moment, he can speak of those faux heartfelt promises and tomorrow, when the woman gets away with her plans, he’ll tell me what to do and that he was right all along. Tomorrow the words will be along the lines of, “
Sorry, but we all knew this would happen sooner or later.
”

Today, I think I want to die.

Mitch

I
t took me
longer than I planned to return to the bakery. I arrive from dropping the cupcakes to Elle Griffin.

“Thank you for bringing them all the way up here,” she purred, I couldn’t believe the woman purred at me. I tried to leave the cupcakes with the receptionist, but they insisted I went to Ms. Griffin’s office. The assistant wasn’t there, and Elle Griffin curled her index finger, just like Hayley had done earlier, but the effect wasn’t the same. “You know, I have a little time between events, how about you?”

“I don’t, my wife is waiting for me at the shop.” With a flat tone, I responded. “If you excuse me, I have to go.”

I shiver at the memory of that cougar hitting on me, and I see Bridget—Parker’s mother leaving the shop.

“It surprises me you haven’t left Augustine’s bastard,” she scrunches her nose. “How’s that mother of yours? She and I should speak about your situation. You married a piece of trash; surely she can see that.” My hands turn into fists as my pulse starts to speed up. I’m pissed at this woman and upset that Mom has anything to do with her. “I left a few messages in her voicemail but she hasn’t called me back yet.”

“If you’ll excuse me, I don’t have time for you,” I say.

“Do you know that the bakery is filled with rats,” she utters, her arrogant tone irritating me. “I hear the health department is going to close it.”

“It better not,” I turn and yell after her as she gets inside the black car. “Defamation is considered a crime and I will have you prosecuted if you piss off my wife.”

She glares at me with compressed lips and shuts the door of the car that pulls away immediately.

I rush inside the store. Did she come to harass Hayley? Inside the kitchen, the scene seems tender; Mr. Welsh is hugging Hayley and rubbing her back while sharing soothing words. She’s sobbing and that knife I’ve seen too often is on the floor, slick with something red. Please let it be food coloring.

“Is everything okay?”

I can barely speak as I stare at that knife and wonder what the hell happened.

“Hay?”

“She can’t talk right now,” her father says.

I pull out my phone wondering if we should call an ambulance or the police or… “Bridget made a mess. If the health inspector comes while we’re gone, offer him more money than what my ex-wife did, Mitch. Don’t let them touch the bakery, please, I’ll pay you back.”

“I’ll make a few calls, sir.” Mr. Welsh starts heading towards the back door.

“I’ve got friends too. Hayl, I’ll see you at home. Call me if you need me before then, baby.” I whisper the last word and hope she heard me.

*