“What is all this?” Molly stood in the kitchen beside a giant basket of…flour? “Why do we have so many bags of flour and why are they in a basket?”

Molly just beamed a wide grin at me, doing her best impression of a game show model. “It looks like your husband is pulling out all the stops to prevent this divorce from happening.”

I just groaned at her words. The things I loved most about Belle Musique, the sense of community, the way people pitched in to help without batting an eye and the closeness, well I hated them all right now. And it wasn’t just today, nope, it was yesterday too. “With flour?” That made no sense but I’d learned over the past couple days that making sense wasn’t part of the equation to Mason or the town at large.

Molly turned the basket around so I could see the letters on the back of each package. “Flour with a message. Flour power?” She laughed when I glared at her, shaking her head and looking every bit like the romantic she denied being.

But she was right, there was a message. Vague though it was, there it sat. One word. Because. Mason was taunting me because he was right, I was being a coward in that I didn’t want to know why he was doing what he was doing, pulling out all the stops as Molly had said. I didn’t want him to voice what my heart not-so-secretly hoped he would because that would allow hope to bloom and that was the one thing I couldn’t afford. Not right now, anyway. Maybe some day far, far into the future when I had answers. “At least I don’t have to buy flour for awhile.”

“That’s it? You’re not gonna tell me what it means?” Thankfully the bell over the door sounded indicating we had customers, which made Molly groan.

I knew I wasn’t safe from her prodding because her curiosity had reached a boiling point thanks to Mason’s full-court press. Yesterday he’d sent chocolates from all around the world and I wanted to send them back, to smash them into the shoes he kept on the floor in my closet but I couldn’t. Because as the jerk well knew, I’d been experimenting with different glazes for dipped cookies, baked goods and even a sensual option for couples. It was the perfect gift that showed he not only listened when I spoke but also remembered.

Damn him.

Ignoring those softening thoughts towards Mason, I shoved the basket of flour aside and pulled out the dough for the lunchtime sandwiches. Even though my thoughts and yeah, my heart might be softening, every time I closed my eyes all I could see was the abject horror on his face as he witnessed me puking into the trash bin. Yeah, that’s what I needed to remember. The rest of this was some combination of obligation because Mason was mostly a good guy and would feel compelled to stick around if he made a baby with his accidental wife, but also pity. And maybe a hint of self-preservation, knowing a small town in the south might not appreciate a man leaving his wife barefoot and pregnant. No matter how fake that wife was.

“Delivery for Trish!” I groaned at the now too familiar voice of Kyle Monaghan, handsome as sin delivery man.

I stuck my head out of the kitchen with the friendliest smile I could muster. “Hey Kyle, why don’t you keep whatever it is and give it to someone special.”

He flashed that stupidly gorgeous dimpled grin and hoisted a large, no a gigantic vase filled with actual flowers this time. Roses, tulips, daisies, carnations, gardenias, orchids and asters. Seven flowers for each type. Seven. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. Because.

Again.

It was too much. Too overwhelming for someone perfectly prepared to stick her head in the sand and ignore what was happening around her. It was why I’d made and cancelled an appointment with my doctor. Twice. It was also why two boxes of untested pregnancy kits sat in my purse with the protective plastic still wrapped around them. I was in full on avoidance mode and the more Mason pushed, the deeper I buried my head.

“I think this delivery is meant specifically for you, Trish. Wouldn’t want to give any of my girls the wrong idea, would I?” More dimples were revealed as he slid the vase closer to the other side of the counter. Closer to me. “Go on. Read the card.”

The card. Oh god, the card. I couldn’t take a card, not right now. Instead of inching closer to the bouquet, I took a step back. And another. And another until I was squarely back inside the kitchen. On the other side of the door. Yep, Mason was right. I was a coward.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Molly appeared in the doorway holding the gargantuan vase filled with beautiful flowers. “Mason sent these for you because he wanted you to have them. Why are you running?”

“Why is he even doing all this, Molly?” I wanted to scream and pull my hair out because none of this made sense and I spilled my guts to Molly. Young, idealistic and romantic Molly who stared at me with wide, shocked eyes.

“Damn,” she said and I felt some sense of vindication. Then she ruined it. “This is amazing, Trish! Don’t you get it, this is Mason’s grand gesture! He’s going all out to show you that he really does care.” The way her shoulders fell was more like a swoon and I knew I was in trouble. “This is just the most incredibly romantic thing ever!”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and I held in the groan dying to escape at the wistfulness shining in her eyes. “It can’t be. He can’t…,” I let the thought trail off but not for dramatic effect, just because I couldn’t think of another thing to say except to deny what Molly was telling me.

The bell chimed again and Molly, like the perfectly trained employee she was, rushed to the front of the store to handle another customer. And I sank against the cold wall, enjoying the reprieve.

My heart raced like I’d just run a marathon and the nausea that had been plaguing me all morning and most of the afternoon had suddenly subsided, leaving me feeling lighter. Hungry. And more terrified than ever. “Back to work,” I ordered myself because if this nausea was what I thought it was, what I refused to consider, then I needed my business to be as successful as possible.

“Another delivery and I signed for it because looking at Kyle up close is even better than your Irish cream filled croissants.” Molly’s face flushed bright pink and I wondered if she had more than a passing appreciation of the resident flirt.

I stared at the envelope she held out to me as though it were a venomous snake. After a full week of Mason’s attempts at, what exactly, forgiveness or reconciliation, I wasn’t sure, I was on edge. I was wary as hell of everything I had to sign for whether it was for the shop or from Mason. “What is it?”

“It appears to be an envelope, Trish. It’s customary to open it and reveal the contents.”

I glared at her. “Smart ass.”

“The smartest, don’tcha know.” With a wink she left the kitchen, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

And my envelope. After staring at the damn thing for so long I thought it might grow legs and just walk away from me, taking the matter out of my hands altogether, I slid my finger under the flap and tore it open. For some reason I held my breath as I opened the envelope and pulled out the sheet of paper. I don’t know what I was expecting, maybe a long-winded explanation for his behavior this past week, including holding me all night but never making a damn move. But instead it was just one little line. One totally unsatisfying, vague, incomplete line.

You asked me why I was doing all this and the answer is simple. I’m doing this because,

And that was it. That word again. Because. It was seven letters I never wanted to see again. “What. The. Hell?”

A knock sounded on the swinging kitchen door. “Ready for me, Boss?”

I frowned at the door, realizing Molly couldn’t see me even as I nodded my agreement. “Didn’t know I had to be ready.”

A loud thud sounded when Molly kicked the door open and she sidled in with a wide, flat-ish box in her hands. “This is for you.”

I eyed the red box warily, walking toward it like it was a worrisome sound in a horror movie, slowly and deliberately. “What do you think it is?”

“A wedding dress,” she deadpanned.

I glared at her but Molly’s response was to shove the box into my arms, leaving me no choice but to deal with it. Somehow. She watched as I carefully lifted the lid and pulled back the paper to reveal a beautiful sapphire blue negligee that was more of a shorty bodysuit than nightgown but it was gorgeous. Sexy and scandalous. A little silver card fell to the floor when I lifted the lacy confection completely from the box. Because you are special. That was all it said. “Okay, now I’m even more confused.”

“I’d better go check on the front,” Molly said and left. Quickly.

Something weird was going on with her and I knew it had everything to do with whatever Mason was up to now. There was still work to be done so I put the negligee back in the box and set it aside, wiping down the table, again, and set out racks for the bread baking in the oven. Special. Mason called me special. What the hell does that even mean? Special as in special needs or special as in beautiful and cherished? I didn’t know and worrying about it only pissed me off.

“Here we go,” Molly said as she reentered the kitchen with a much smaller but taller box of…something. “Another delivery for you.” She flashed a much too innocent smile and pushed the box into my hands. “Another wedding dress,” she said flatly and then flashed a big excited grin before hurrying out of the kitchen. Again.

I recognized that gleam in her eye. It was the same one she had when she’d ordered a stripper to celebrate getting the job with me and when she signed Vivi up for a two year subscription to a porno magazine made for women. It was a gleam of trouble. But I now knew that I just had to let this play out, whatever it was. Mason clearly had something he wanted to prove to me and I was feeling silly or hormonal, emotional and curious as hell if I’m being honest to see if that little spark of hope would be allowed to bloom. Or if it would be stamped out mercilessly. Again.

Box number two contained candy molds. Another gift that proved how well Mason listened. Remembered. It was a heady thing to know the guy you were sort of married to and up until recently banging on every possible surface, wasn’t just waiting to stick it in you while you bared your soul. I wanted to try my hand at candies but I’d been hesitant to pull the trigger. Mason had done it for me. I wanted to pull them out and look at each one but I felt that telltale stinging behind my eyes and then I felt the moisture trek down my cheeks.

And then I spotted the next card. Because you are sweet.

“Sweet.” That’s exactly what a guy calls the girl he thinks of as his sister, maybe his best friend. Definitely not his wife or his super hot sex buddy.

The rest of the day continued much in the same way. Ten minutes later Molly came back with a box that was big enough to contain a poufy dress. Not a wedding dress. Not any dress as a matter of fact. It was a box filled with colorful, delicate, naughty lingerie. Bras galore and panties of all colors and cuts. The note was equally simple too. Because you are mine.

Shortly after the lunch rush another basket arrived decorated with tea towels and aprons with the shop’s logo and colors on them. Inside was colorful baking aids. Whisks, spatulas, blades, rolling pins, molds, frames and rings. All made from high quality materials that were perfect for a professional kitchen. And another note. Because I can’t resist you.

Okay so that was a bit clearer than the other notes and I felt that tiny spark grown into full blown hope. The man I had accidentally married and recently realized I’d fallen for, might actually feel the same way. That thought got my feet moving underneath me, pulling a mixing bowl from the shelf and gathering ingredients for cake as a plan slowly started to form in my head.

A plan that could end disastrously and very well might, but as the plan formed I felt myself getting excited. Growing downright giddy at the thought that Mason might feel how I felt. Not that I thought this was a good way to start a marriage but I couldn’t help but think of Vivi and Maddie, who’d gotten accidentally hitched but were now—still—happily married. I wondered if we could have that or if this was all because Mason thought I was pregnant.

I probably was. Very likely was and I didn’t want to know. Not yet.

“Another delivery, Boss.” Molly’s smile was still bright and mischievous. “Note how I’m not asking for any details. Tomorrow will be different,” she said cryptically and left the kitchen.

This time it was just an envelope. Dark blue with Mason’s familiar handwriting scrawled in silver. On the front it simply said ‘Cupcake’ and yeah, I teared up a little. Just a little. Okay maybe more than a little. I didn’t have to tear the envelope, simply lift the flap to find a gift certificate. Yep, a gift certificate for a tattoo. At Mason’s shop, his tattoo shop.

I didn’t get it, but luckily I knew there had to be a note. I hoped there was a note. Where was the note? “There you are!” stuck to the back of the certificate was the note. The Note, as I was starting to think of it as I flipped it over with shaky hands, taking in the slant of Mason’s handwriting, sharp, sure strokes. Just like the man.

Since you don’t wear much jewelry I figured I’d just ink a ring on your finger. As big as you want, Cupcake. Because I love you. Below the words, which I couldn’t stop thinking about, was a drawing. An elaborate sketch of an engagement ring with diamonds, rubies and sapphires surrounding the big diamond, which was actually a giant cupcake.

Because I love you. Those words were the ones that did it, turning my spark into a raging inferno of hope. I finished the cake, layering and frosting it so that I could take it with me when I went home. To get my man because that’s what he was.

Wasn’t he?

“Was that a good gasp or a bad one?”

A laugh broke through my tears at Molly’s nosy question. “A good one.”

“Oh good.” She pushed the door open and stuck her head through. “Everything all right?” Molly was a lot of things but subtle she was not, scanning the kitchen in search of some clue about the other gifts.

“Everything is good. Really good, Molly. Really, really good.”

Her smile bloomed prettily. “Then what the hell are you still doing here?”

Good question. “Put the cake in a holder for me, will ya? I have to grab my bag from the office.” And I had to grab Molly’s paycheck, which I knew she’d be happy to have a day early. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”

“Damn, Boss, thanks. I can’t wait to see what I get tomorrow!” With a wink she snapped the lid on the cake holder and left me alone in the kitchen, where I slipped out the back door.

And headed towards my future.