Always the Last Word (Always the Bridesmaid #4)(28)

"He's baking a cake at 9:30 at night?"

"I told you, he has lost his damn mind." Carter downs the last few drops of his drink and stands up. He looks down at me and squeezes my shoulder. "It was good seeing you, Evie."

"You too, Carter," I say with a smile. "If you need anything, let me know."

"Thanks," he says and walks out of the bar, phone to his ear as he requests a cab.



       
         
       
        

I sit on the barstool for at least five minutes, not even really looking at anything.

Adam isn't with Zoe. Adam is into me. Or, at least he was.

What the hell am I doing here?

The bakery is less than a block away from the bar, and I'm on my feet and walking in that direction before I even have time to stop and think things through. Like what I'm going to say. Or what kind of reaction I'm going to get from Adam when I just show up at a bakery well past its closing time.

I stop in front of the bakery doors. The lights in the dining area and counter are all turned off, but I can see a glow of lights from the kitchen. And, even though I know the bakery is closed, I still try to open the doors. They don't budge. I try knocking.

Enough light pours from the kitchen when Adam swings open the kitchen door that I'm able to see his expression. His eyebrows are furrowed at the sound; he probably expects some drunk college kid at the door. When he realizes that it's just me, his eyebrows go from being furrowed to completely disappearing into his curly hair. He comes to a full stop, allowing the swinging kitchen door to swing and pop him in the back. He doesn't seem to notice.

I lamely wave and wait for him to make the next move. After what feels like an eternity, he walks over and unlocks the door. He doesn't open it all the way though.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, not angry, not happy. It's just a question. The smell of vanilla and flour hits my nose and it takes everything in me to keep it together.

"Carter said you were here. I thought I'd stop by and say hi." I groan. "God, that sounded lame."

"A bit," he agrees with a laugh. He opens the door for me. "Do you want to come in?"

"Okay," I say and walk inside the bakery. He closes the door behind me, and only locks the top deadbolt instead of the whole shebang. Probably in case one of us needs a quick getaway. We're silent as I follow him into the kitchen. The kitchen decor is outdated and the namesake of the bakery clearly has a thing for chickens. The wallpaper border is chickens, various jars of spices have chicken decals on them or are chicken shaped, and even the industrial-size fridge is covered in chicken magnets. I feel like they're squawking at me, calling me out on my own cowardice.

"I saw you on opening night," I say as I lean against the massive island. Adam pops open the oven, one of the few updates of the kitchen. It's sleek and modern and gigantic. "That was nice of you to come to the show."

"Classic literature in the galaxy? I had to see it for myself," he says as he snaps the oven door shut and turns to face me. He leans against the counter opposite of me. "And I wanted to see your work. The costumes looked great." 

"Thank you. I'm proud of them," I say. The chickens bawk louder at me. "So, why didn't you stay after the show?"

"Did you want me to?"

"I think so. I was more prepared to hear your side of things than I was when I went to your apartment and saw-"

Adam stops me. "I didn't invite Zoe over. She came over and nothing happened, I swear."

"I know. Carter told me," I say, my heart in my throat. "I, um, saw him at the bar a few minutes ago. He told me the whole story."

Adam lets out a little laugh. "Did we screw him and Rachel up or what?"

I smile. "As I do far too often, I'm inclined to blame my brother on this one."

"Did you have any idea they were seeing each other?"

"None. Hank has been in love with her forever but, until recently, I didn't think she saw him as anything other than my brother. But they're happy. I don't know what's going to happen when she moves to Austin," I say. I make a point to meet Adam's dark eyes for what I'm about to say. "You have to know that I didn't want to keep that information from you. And I'm sorry that I did. But she's my best friend. I couldn't betray her trust."

"I get it. Sorry I left like a little bitch," he says, earning a chuckle from me. "I've missed this. Talking to you. Seeing you. Both of us apologizing to each other for acting like dicks."

"Me too. We're going to have to find some other couple to conspire against if we want to hang out," I say, my voice as light as I feel. "Any couple you actively hate that you want to tear apart? I think that's our niche."

He smiles at me and I feel its warmth radiate down to my toes.

"I don't know where you stand on things but I just want you to know that-" He's cut off by the oven's timer. He continues to prattle on as he checks the cake. "I want you to know that I think you're a good person, and you're passionate and … " he stops talking as he pulls out what can only be a cake to feed an entire elementary school. He sets it on the counter next to the oven and mumbles about the time and how long it needs to cool.

I can't take it any longer. "Adam, what are you trying to say?"

"What do you think I'm trying to say?" Adam responds, his curls shaking along with his head in disbelief at me. "I'm trying to tell you that I love you. Damn."

Only milliseconds pass, and I know this but, in those milliseconds, it feels like a lifetime. My heart beats so hard that I swear it pulls me toward Adam and, before my brain can tell my body otherwise, I'm in his arms. His arms are strong, and I'm engulfed in that scent of flour and vanilla.

"The feeling's mutual," I say, my words almost unintelligible over my laughter. Adam understands me though, and wastes no time. His hands are on my waist and his lips are on mine. The kiss begins soft but rapidly turns urgent and, before I know it, I find myself horizontal on a flour-encrusted counter with Adam Iberico on top of me.

"I just want you to know that we're breaking every health code violation in the state of Kentucky," Adam tells me, his voice rough as I fight with his belt clasp.

"Yeah, and you ripped a seam on my dress. Call it even?"

"I'll call it whatever you want," he says and kisses me again.

The chickens that decorate the kitchen stare at us as Adam and I move together. Our bodies are covered in floury handprints and our skin is flush with color and, as we lay there later, both of us spent and happily tangled up in each other, I still can't believe that this arrogant bastard managed to win my heart.



       
         
       
        

"Do you want some cake?" Adam asks, gesturing to the cake on the opposite counter that has had more than enough time to cool.

Sex and cake? Okay, maybe it's not that unbelievable that he won me over.





Chapter Twenty-Six



"This is the last of it," Rachel says, shoving a box of office supplies into the last bit of free space in the moving truck.

"Really? You're not going to try to shove the kitchen sink in there while you're at it? What about the staircase? Or one of these ugly shrubs?" Hank asks, and she lightly pulls his right ear before wrapping her arms around his waist.

I watch them and sigh. They're both handling Rachel's move halfway across the country better than I thought either of them would. Hank is actually driving her car to Austin for her as well as helping her unload her belongings, and will catch a flight back later in the week. They have plans to make this relationship work long-distance, and their faith in each other is damn near inspiring.

"You realize this is all going to fall out on top of you as soon as you open the door, right?" Adam asks as a joke, and I squeeze his side. "What? I'm trying to save them from an avalanche of books and kitchen chairs."

"We'll park on a slope. Everything will go forward instead of back at us," Rachel says, having already thought this problem through.

"And that's why I'm with you," Hank says, booping her on the nose before going to close the back of the moving truck. With the harsh clang of the door clasping shut, it fully hits me that Rachel is moving.

Of course I knew she was moving. We've had so many going away dinners and parties that the fact that she won't be living upstairs any longer is inescapable. But now it's final. I'm going to have a new upstairs neighbor. I'm not going to have anyone barging in unannounced. I can finally walk around my apartment naked without the fear of Rachel walking in on me.

I don't want that kind of freedom if it means my best friend is moving away.

"This is still weird to see," Rachel says as she looks at me and Adam, our arms around each other.

"Almost as weird as seeing my best friend with my twin brother," I say.

"Okay, that's fair," she says with a laugh. "I still can't believe you two are, like, together, though. And happy and, you know, not murdering each other."

"This sounds like it's about to get touchy-feely," Adam says. "Hey, Hank, want to go and grab some junk food for the road and give them a minute?"