Imogene’s husband wrapped a hand around her waist and looked at his new bride as he said to the crowd loudly, “Brooklyn made my wife very happy. For that, I’ll be eternally grateful.”
Pink bathed my cheeks as people clapped and turned their attention to me. Imogene’s wedding had been nonstop since Friday afternoon. Saturday had been complete insanity. What with the actual wedding, along withSouthern Livingtaking photos and asking questions about every detail from the fine china to everything we had baked for the guests. Now it was early Sunday afternoon, and the festivities were ending as Imogene and her husband made some final speeches.
Despite Jazz being absent all week, we’d managed to pull off the biggest success of my career thus far. My team was, indeed, stellar, but the true miracle workers had been the Blue Angels. Darcy, Savage, and Duke, along with Willa and Waverly, had saved my ass.
Slash had dealt with my insurance company and had promised me that even big corporations were run by people in small offices and that I didn’t have to worry about it. I wasn’t sure exactly what he’d done, but by Friday afternoon I had a check in hand.
“You look radiant,” I said as Imogene approached me at the dessert table.
She wore a cream V-neck dress that plunged in front, and her cheeks were rosy.
“Aren’t you just wonderful,” she said as she embraced me.
“I saved a slice of your wedding cake and packaged it for deep freezing so you can eat it on your one-year anniversary,” I said. “Tradition and all that.”
“Thank you.”
“When do you leave on your honeymoon?” I asked.
“Tomorrow morning. When I’m back, can we have brunch?”
“I’d love that.” I gave her hand a squeeze. “I appreciated your speech. I really did. You have to know you just made my career. Thank you, Imogene.”
My inbox was full of requests from high-end customers wanting to book massive events with nearly unlimited budgets, and it was clear that my financial concerns were over. I’d gotten the one thing many people needed in life but so often seemed not to get: a break. It was a deluge of business—so much that I would be able to hire permanent staff to help oversee the daily running of the bakery. I could focus on clients and cake designs, and when the time came that I needed to step back, nothing would fall through the cracks.
“My pleasure. I’m sorry Jazz is going through a rough time,” Imogene said. “Will you give her my best?”
I nodded.
Brielle came to my side, eating a slice of quiche. My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I’d only had toast for breakfast and I’d wolfed down a granola bar in three bites a few hours ago.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Imogene said. “But you look exhausted.”
“I am exhausted.” I pressed a hand to my sore lower back.
“Go,” Brielle said. “I can stay and supervise the cleanup.”
“You wouldn’t mind?” I asked gratefully.
“Not at all,” she assured me.
I stifled a yawn. “I might sleep for three days straight.”
“Yeah, sleep.” Brielle snorted.
I arched a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It meansSlash.”
My cheeks heated once again, and both Brielle and Imogene laughed.
“He keeps you happy,” Imogene said. “I like that.”
“You can meet him when you’re back from your honeymoon,” I said.
“It’s a date.”
She hugged me one final time and then flitted around the gardens of her new husband’s estate, speaking to her guests.