But Shane remained unmoved. “Sorry, Gina. You’re going to have to just find someone else to bake your cake for your big day.”
Was that it? Did he think that she was asking him to make her wedding cake? Gina was quick to set him straight. “The cake isn’t for me.”
“Right,” Shane replied sarcastically. “It’s for everyone at the reception.” He’d heard that approach before.
“Well, technically, yes,” Gina agreed. She was right, she thought. Shane did think she was asking for him to bake her wedding cake. She could see how he felt that she was rubbing salt into his wounds, even after all this time. “But if you don’t make this cake, in less than three weeks, there is going to be one unhappy bride who will be having a nervous breakdown because she is going to feel that her big day is just crumbling all to pieces right in front of her.”
Gina saw something in Shane’s eyes that she couldn’t quite make out, and then he shrugged, unmoved. “I’m sorry but there’s nothing I can do for you, Gina. I’m booked solid. You’ll just have to eat someone else’s cake at your wedding.”
A fresh wave of guilt washed over her. Had she hurt him that much? Over the years, when she couldn’t locate him, she’d talked herself into believing that he really hadn’t cared.
But he had, she realized.
“It’s not my wedding, Shane,” she told him quietly.
About to go back into the kitchen area and send out one of his assistants to usher her out, Shane stopped and turned around again.
“Wait, what?” he asked. Was she lying, trying to get him to agree to create one of his signature cakes for her, or was she being truthful?
“I said it’s not my wedding,” Gina repeated, slowly enunciating every word.
This didn’t make any sense to him. Shane was accustomed to having the bride—usually accompanied by the groom—be the one who placed the order for the cake. And this was only after an unusual amount of deliberation and questions, not to mention cake sampling, took place. If Gina wasn’t the bride, then what was she doing placing the order for the wedding cake?
“All right,” he said gamely. “Whose wedding is it?” he asked.
“The bride’s name is Sylvie Stevens,” she answered, adding, “Right now, quite honestly, the groom’s name escapes me.”
Most of the miscellaneous thoughts that usually resided in her head had all inexplicably vanished, leaving her to fend for herself. The reason for that was because she had run into Shane in the least likely place she would have ever thought of seeing him. In a shop that he apparently owned and operated as a creative baker. All of this had left her practically incoherent and totally unprepared to deal with any of this.
“This Sylvie Stevens,” Shane said, picking up on the bride’s name, “is she a relative of yours?”
There was no doubt about it. Shane felt as if he was groping around in the dark, trying to find the door so he could get out.
He was fairly certain that he had met all of Gina’s relatives during the time that they had been together. As he recalled, it wasn’t that big a family. He knew he would have remembered someone named Sylvie.
“No—” Gina began.
He cut her off. “A friend, then?” he asked in disbelief. This was really an unusual circumstance if she was making the decision for a friend. Despite his initial decision to just close the door on Gina the way she had so callously closed it on him, Shane found his curiosity aroused. “Are you here making arrangements for a cake for a friend?”
Saying yes would have been the easy way out, but Gina knew her best bet was to be totally honest with him. “I can’t call this bride-to-be my friend, although some of my clients do wind up that way by the time the wedding takes place.”
He stared at her. He hadn’t a clue what she was talking about.
“You’ve lost me,” Shane told her impatiently.
His choice of words vividly brought back the past to her.
I did, didn’t I? Gina thought, a huge pang of regret twisting her stomach. She really wished that there was such a thing as a do-over button she could press.
She took a breath. “Maybe I should explain,” she began.
“Maybe you should,” Shane agreed crisply.
He silently warned himself not to get caught up in any of this. That meant that he couldn’t allow the sound of her voice to get to him or allow the way he had once felt about her to influence him in any way.
But despite everything, Shane had to admit that his curiosity had been aroused in a big way.
Gina took another deep breath before telling him, “I’m a professional bridesmaid.”
His reaction was the same sort she had become used to getting. “What the hell is that?” Shane demanded.
“Just what it sounds like,” she told him. “Simply put, I hire out my services to prospective brides. I promise them that I will take care of any and all possible emergencies that might arise before and during the ceremony. Emergencies that could derail what the bride had envisioned as her perfect day.”
Gina’s explanation had almost rendered him speechless.
Almost.
“You’re kidding,” Shane said, recovering. “You, the woman who couldn’t commit herself to the man who foolishly bared his soul to her, you’re in charge of making other people’s weddings a success?” he asked incredulously.
There it was again, Gina thought, that wave of guilt that threatened to all but drown her. “Shane, I can’t tell you how much—”
Shane upbraided himself for dropping his guard and allowing this to get personal. Aware of his error, Shane waved away what he could tell was going to be another apology. He didn’t want to hear it. The damage had long since been done and they had both moved on.
As possibly a direct result of her rejection, he had forged a better version of himself and had gone on to create a career out of the ashes that was far more satisfying to him than the path he had been set to follow when she’d suddenly stomped on his heart.
“Never mind all that now,” Shane told her rather formally. “This cake you’re trying to order, it isn’t for you?” he asked, wanting to be totally sure before continuing.
“No, it’s not. And Sylvie really does seem to have her heart set on you being the one making this cake for her.” And then she added what she hoped would be the argument that would tip the scales in Sylvie’s favor. “If you won’t make the cake, it’s almost as if the rest of her wedding is doomed.”
Shane laughed shortly at the absurdity of what she’d just said. “That’s a little dramatic and over-the-top, don’t you think?” he asked.
For the first time, Gina laughed in response. He found the sound disturbing in a way he definitely didn’t want to be disturbed.
“You’d be surprised what some of these brides are like and what they say when they feel stressed,” Gina told him, extrapolating on this momentary temporary truce that they had struck. “The term bridezilla is not just some whimsical, weird name that someone dreamed up. It’s actually rather an accurate description of the transformation that some of these perfectly sane women undergo when dealing with the one hundred–plus miscellaneous details that comprise pulling