Listen to Your Heart(35)

For the next half hour, we sample all the choices. Each one is delicious. Or maybe I’m just starving. Hard to tell.

“Don’t try that one.” I point toward the chocolate layer cake that I know for a fact is delicious. I may even take that one home with me.

“Why?”

“It’s layered with peanut butter.”

“Ah. Good call. Thanks.”

“I guess, in the midst of her scheming, Lynsey forgot to tell Pierre you’re allergic. He never would have offered it as a sample if he’d known. He’s very conscientious about such things.”

“Plus, he doesn’t want to get sued.”

“Right. But please, feel free to sue Lynsey. I mean, she could have sent you into anaphylactic shock today.”

Caleb laughs. He knows I’m kidding. Still, she needs to be punished for putting me through this.

I take a bite of pineapple cake and moan with pleasure. “You have to try this one. It has cream cheese icing.”

Without thinking, I offer him my fork, and without hesitation, he wraps his mouth around it. Realization dawns on us at the same time, and our eyes lock as he slowly swallows the bite.

“I miss you,” he says softly. “I keep hoping to see you when you pick up Eli from class.”

I haven’t been picking him up. Luckily, Nick hasn’t needed me much lately. I miss my nephew, but it’s been a blessing to have one less person to worry about when my own life is such a hot mess.

I quickly reach for the next slice. “Here. Try the strawberry. It can be topped with cream cheese, but I prefer buttercream.”

“Skye . . .”

“Or maybe the raspberry?” I nervously push another plate in his direction, desperate to make him focus on anything besides me. “It’s my favorite. Pierre pours a raspberry liqueur over the cake just as it comes out of the oven and then frosts it with cream cheese.”

He sighs heavily and grabs his fork. “Raspberry’s your favorite?”

I nod.

Caleb slowly lifts his fork, but instead of taking the bite himself, he offers it to me. I don’t even think twice. The raspberry sauce is warm and delicious, and I moan appreciatively.

“You have some sauce . . .” He takes his fingertip and trails it across the corner of my mouth. My skin tingles as he lingers there, his eyes burning into mine.

“I think the raspberry,” he whispers roughly.

“Definitely the raspberry.”

Caleb lets his finger ghost across my lips, and our faces inch closer.

“How are we doing back there?” Pierre shouts from the front of the bakery, breaking the spell. “Has our groom made a choice?”

“There is no choice,” Caleb murmurs, and my heart pounds, because I know he’s not talking about the cake.

Taking a deep breath, I lean back, putting some distance between us, just as Pierre approaches the table.

“He likes the raspberry, Pierre.”

“Excellent. How many tiers?”

“Six.”

“And for the groom’s cake?”

I look to Caleb for an answer, stupidly hoping that maybe he’ll say screw the cakes because the wedding’s off. But his face is stone. And his mouth isn’t moving.

“He doesn’t have a preference. Just something without peanuts. He’s allergic.”

Pierre’s eyes grow wide. “Lynsey did not tell me—”

“No worries. He didn’t touch it. That sample will be going home with me.”

“Very good,” Pierre says, sighing with relief. “We can place this order today?”

I don’t even glance in Caleb’s direction. Why bother?

“Yes, Pierre. We can place the order today.”

He boxes up the leftovers and sends us on our way. The two of us are silent as he walks me to my car. After carefully placing the box in my back seat, I turn around to tell him goodbye when he takes my hand.

“Have coffee with me.”

“No, Caleb.”

He steps closer, gently pinning me against my car door.

“Tell me what you want, Skye.”

A whimper escapes my throat when he frames my face with his hands. I’ve missed his touch—and him—so much.

“I want you, Caleb. I want all of you. And you can’t give that to me.”

He sighs sadly and presses his forehead to mine. “I wish you could understand.”

“I wish you could, too.”

I have to get out of here before I fall apart. His expression is unbearable when I gently pull his hands away from my face. His stormy blue eyes are shattered and broken. I’m sure they mirror my own.

“The flowers. The emails. The voice mails. They have to stop.”

“You don’t like them?”

“I love them.”

“Then why—”

“Because you’re breaking my heart every single day and I can’t take it anymore.”

He reaches for me again, but I push him away.

“You have to let me go, Caleb.”

“I can’t. I don’t know how.”

“Figure it out. If you care about me at all, you’ll figure it out.”

Without another word, I quickly climb into my car. I force myself not to look in the rearview mirror as I drive away.