Chapter 8: Tension in the Bakery
(Eden’s POV)
The scent of butter and sugar should’ve been comforting.
Instead, it tangled with nerves in my stomach as I followed Harper into Maribelle’s, the family bakery known for making the best wedding cakes in three counties.
“You’re gonna love this,” Harper gushed, practically bouncing toward the tasting table. “She made three sample tiers, and I can’t decide which one tastes more like heaven.”
The little storefront was cozy and nostalgic, all soft pastels and vintage charm. I hadn’t stepped inside since I was a teenager, back when cake was just cake and I didn’t care what fondant was.
Now I was barely holding it together.
The weight of the message still sat in my phone like a secret I wasn’t ready to face. No reply. No hint of who sent it. Just a slow burn under my skin.
Harper was already making herself at home near the display case when I heard the front door chime.
And then—them.
Luca and Levi.
The twins walked in like they owned the place, casual and confident in a way that made my spine straighten on instinct.
Levi wore a grey T-shirt and ripped jeans, the sleeves tight around his arms. His hair was damp, like he’d just stepped out of a shower. He smelled faintly of mint and something darker—cologne maybe, or sin in a bottle.
Luca, in contrast, wore a button-up rolled at the sleeves and dark slacks. Neater. Polished. But his sharp jaw and unreadable eyes still made my knees unsteady.
They were here for the tasting too.
Of course they were. Groomsmen. Long-time friends of Joe. Apparently now very involved in cake logistics.
“Oh good!” Harper beamed. “You made it. Eden’s already here.”
I cursed internally as both brothers turned toward me at once.
Levi grinned. “Hey, Red.”
I blinked. “Red?”
He pointed loosely at my dress—soft burgundy with a fitted waist. “Color suits you.”
Luca just gave a nod, barely meeting my eyes. But it lingered a beat too long.
I shifted awkwardly. “Didn’t know you guys were coming.”
“Last-minute invite,” Levi said. “You know Harper. No escaping the wedding machine.”
Harper snorted. “Guilty.”
The baker appeared then, cheerful and oblivious, placing small plates of sample cake on the table like it was an offering from the gods.
“Vanilla bean, lemon elderflower, and espresso chocolate.”
I sat between Harper and Levi, with Luca across from me. The table felt too small. My skin too warm.
Harper launched into tasting mode, eyes fluttering shut with each bite, discussing textures and crumb like a Food Network judge.
I tried. I really did. But I couldn’t taste anything. Not the cake. Not the frosting. All I felt was heat.
Levi leaned toward me slightly, his voice low.
“You doing okay after last night?”
I nearly choked on a forkful of lemon.
“Fine,” I said quickly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
He smirked. “You just seemed… honest.”
I forced a laugh. “Must’ve been the sangria.”
He tilted his head. “Or maybe it’s just time someone let loose.”
I turned to Harper, desperate for a change of topic, but she was busy fawning over the espresso chocolate and asking Luca what he thought.
Luca glanced at me, then back at the cake. “It’s rich. Strong finish.”
Was he talking about the cake?
I looked down at my phone on the table, screen dark.
Still no reply.
But the burn in my cheeks told me whoever sent that message… might’ve been sitting closer than I thought.