Urban laugh/coughs, and I give him a glare before turning my attention back on Henry. “Sure, I could eat some cake. But only if Kiki wants me to come along.”
“You’re helping plan the wedding?” my father asks. “Watch yourself,” he directs to Kiki. “You’ll have a champagne disaster if he’s helping you.”
I think back to his wedding to Yasmin, and how I tried to ruin the whole thing. I almost did, but in the end, they finally went through with it, and were married. But, like I said, not for lack of trying on my part.
“It was just a few bottles,” I tell my father. “Excuse me.” I need a break from his phony smile. His phony life.
From his phony everything. Kiki looks at me with questioning eyes as I stand. If circumstances were different, I’d take her with me. I’d grab her hand and we’d run to the back, and I’d sweep her into my arms.
She’d blush as I trace my fingers over her cheek. She’d moan as I lean in to kiss her.
We’d leave from here, never looking back.
But circumstances aren’t different, so I weave between the tables toward the back of the restaurant in search of somewhere to escape. I find something—a little hidden patio off the back.
I step outside and breathe in the balmy night air. The ocean is close, I can smell the salty sea, and some of the stress leaves my shoulders.
“That’s some major tension at that table,” Kiki says, joining me on the patio, overlooking the golf course.
“My father and I don’t really get along.”
She smiles. “Really? I hadn’t noticed,” she says with playful sarcasm in her tone. “Why not?”
I perch on the half wall enclosing the patio. “It’s a long story.”
She scoots a little closer. God, she’s beautiful with the moonlight dancing across her skin. “I kind of like long stories. I mean, it must be some major emotional baggage to kiss a stranger, just so you don’t have to see him.”
I stuff my hands in my pockets, so I don’t grab her and kiss her again. “Sorry about that.” But, am I really sorry? Every part of me knows it was so wrong, yet, I don’t regret it.
Although, I should. And that’s the most fucked up part.
“I see you got the ring back.” I nod toward her left hand, changing the subject.
She lifts her hand, staring at the ring on her finger. “Yeah.” Then, she turns to face me. “Is it bad every time I look at it I think about goat poo?”
I can’t help laughing at her words. “That’s not a good thing.”
She shrugs. “I know.”
I gaze into her gorgeous brown eyes, letting the thought of her and Henry marinate for a moment. “What are you doing with a guy like him?” My gut says he just doesn’t seem right for her.
She steps back, appearing off balance. “What do you mean? I love him.”
I step closer, my heart slamming against my ribcage. “Do you really?” If she tells me she loves him, and I believe her, I’ll step away and never question her again.
“Of course, I do. I’m getting married to him. And you’re going to be the best man.” She pokes a finger in my chest, her eyes wide. “You can’t ask me questions like that.” She rushes back inside.
Fuck. Why did I cross the line and question her about Henry? I want to go after her and apologize, but I know I can’t do that with everyone at the table. I need to get her alone, for like five minutes so I can apologize.
Guess I’ll be eating cake tomorrow.
Who is the person that decided to have cake at a wedding? I want to personally shake that man or woman’s hand. Because cake tasting is fucking incredible.
What’s not incredible is the awkwardness that’s settled between Kiki and myself as we sample different kinds of cake. She hasn’t looked me in the eyes since we got here over twenty minutes ago.
Last night, the rest of dinner I stayed silent, only answering questions when asked. I tried not to rock the boat, as they’d call it. I didn’t need Henry and Kiki to know the inner workings of my broken family tree.
Or worse yet, the inner thoughts I’ve been having about Kiki.
But, that all ends today. I’m here for the cake, nothing else.
Swear.
The sales lady drones on and on about the different kinds of cake we’re eating, and I kind of wish she’d just go away so I could start my apology.
“And this last one is red velvet, which most don’t do for a spring wedding. That’s when the two of you are getting married, right? Spring?” The older lady clasps her plump hands together over her heart as she stares at the two of us.
“We’re not getting married,” Kiki rushes out. “He’s the best man.”
“Yeah, I’m just helping out.”
The woman’s head snaps back, like she just made the biggest faux pas in history. “I’m so sorry. But,” she smiles at me, “lucky you, right?”
I hold up my fork with the velvet cake on the end of it. “Yep, lucky me.”
When she finally walks away, I turn to Kiki. “Listen, I wanted to apologize about last night. I shouldn’t have questioned you about Henry.”
Kiki sets her fork down. “It’s ok. Maybe it is all too soon. I don’t know.”
I swipe a strand of her brown hair behind her ear. “No, you love him. Don’t let me make you think you don’t. I was wrong.”
So totally fucking wrong.
“But, do I love him?”
God, I want to kiss her again. Is it so wrong that I want to? My heart pounds in frustration at the thought that I can not kiss her. Although, I can’t remove my hand from her hair. “You do.”
“Do I?” Her eyes search mine, as if I’m going to give her the correct answer.
I’m not. I don’t even remember what we’re talking about. All I can remember is this is so utterly wrong. “Kiki…” I pause, because I should fucking stand up and walk right out of this heavenly little cake shop, but come on, you know I can’t do that.
This girl holds some sort of spell over me, making me unable to move. I’m completely frozen.
“What?” she whispers back. Her voice sounds like sex. Like she wants it more than I do, which is physically impossible.
Keep it together, Ellis. Keep your fucking shit together. “Yes, you love him.” That was by far one of the hardest things I’ve ever said to anyone.
She nods her head, and I drop my hand. “Right, of course.” But she doesn’t look so confident from my words. Hell, even I’m not sure if she loves the guy.
“How long have you two been together?” I ask her, right before taking a bite of the red velvet.
“A little over a month.”
I nearly choke on the cake.
I was not expecting that. I figured at least six months.
Although, if I met a girl like Kiki, I’d put a ring on her finger before anyone else could too.
I glance at her diamond, and her eyes follow my path. “I can’t stop thinking about poop when I stare at it,” she says. I laugh. “I feel like I’ve washed it so many times. Did I tell you the goat that swallowed it even looked like Henry?”