Adam
Adelaide Zala Goodman looked sexy as hell with a blindfold on.Too bad she was fully clothed and we weren’t somewhere I could rectify that fact.
“I smell something sweet,” she said.
“It’s you.”
She laughed and stumbled into me. “Don’t try to flirt with me when I can’t see.”
“You require all your senses to be engaged before I can get my flirt on?”
“Mmmhmmm. Please tell me I can take this thing off.”
I yanked on the bow tied at the back of her head, loosening the blindfold. “You can take this thing off.” Then I pulled it away from her face.
She stared at her surroundings, her eyes wide and lips parted. Awestruck, she didn’t say a word. Her pink, poofy dress swirled around her legs as she turned in a slow circle, taking in the cake shop.
The walls were pale pink except for one, which was paper with a swirly silver design. The glass cases glowed bright and were filled with colorful works of sugary art. There were several chandeliers made of twinkling crystal, and the pictures of cakes were framed in silver and jewels.
Adelaide gasped. “This is the bakery that made the mini wedding cake you gave me.”
I nodded. “That’s right.”
“I love it so much. But why are we here?” she whispered.
A compact, gray-haired woman with black-framed glasses way too big for her face approached us. With a French accent, she greeted us, introducing herself as Nanette, then led us into a private tasting room. There, she started explaining buttercreams and fillings and layers and shapes. I kind of zoned out while watching Adelaide, who got more excited by the second.
Then our table was filled with small squares of cake, plates with dollops of icing, and plates with filling. After that, we were left alone for our tasting.
Adelaide turned to me. “We’re tasting wedding cakes.”
It wasn’t a question. It was obvious what we were doing.
“Yeah. We’re tasting wedding cakes. I thought maybe we could post a couple pictures on Insta to feed the masses.”
It’d been a week since we’d had our talk. Any time Adelaide wasn’t at work or in class, she was in my bed. We were making up for lost time. Couldn’t get enough of it. The crazy thing was, the week we’d spent flying under the radar had only heightened the public’s interest in us.
They wanted to know when our wedding was.
What Adelaide was going to wear.
To see us together.
To witness our love story.
It wasn’t just the press, it was TSC’s fans too.
I’d never cared much about what people thought of me. They could call me a fuckboy until the end of time and it wouldn’t be a blip on my radar. The things I said about myself were far worse than what anyone else could even dream of saying. But my relationship with Adelaide was different. This, I cared about. Trash-talking was inevitable, but if I could show them how damn good and sweet we were together, maybe we could control the narrative somewhat.
I swiped some icing with my finger and dragged it down the side of her neck. She whimpered softly when I leaned in to lick it off.
“This could be fun, right?” I sucked the buttercream from her skin, then sucked some more because she tasted so delicious all on her own.
“And what is Nanette going to think when we don’t order a cake from her?” Adelaide asked.
“We can order a cake. I’ll order you all the wedding cakes you want.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Wedding cake is special because it doesn’t come around often.”