Chapter Seven

“I’m going to throw my phone into the ocean,” Matt bites out, slapping the ball of fondant onto the countertop with far more force than necessary. Margaret winces at the impact, handing over a rolling pin and pointedly ignoring the buzz that signals another incoming text. Matt could rip his phone in half at this point, if it meant that he would get a moment’s peace.

“He says that Karen should be by tomorrow morning,” says Margaret, holding the phone just out of Matt’s immediate reach—a smart move, really. The phone buzzes again, and Matt resists the very strong urge to tear his hair out by the roots. Since the sudden, and a bit rude, phone call two days before, Matt’s been overrun by demands from Clarke’s Events. More specifically, actually, he’s been overrun with demands from Nicholas Clarke himself, who seems to be hell-bent on disrupting every waking hour of Matthew’s day. His new boss is snippy, short-tempered, and seems to do everything last-minute, which is an absolute nightmare for a baker. In the past thirty-six hours alone, Matt’s had to cancel four bakes for his shop because Nicholas asked him for something that he didn’t have the oven space or the time to finish without sacrificing something in return. Margaret’s been witness to it all, and Matt reminds himself again to give her a raise when he’s done with all this, both because he can afford it now and because she deserves it more than anyone else he knows. The phone buzzes again, and Matt nearly puts a dent in the countertop when he throws down the rolling pin to grab it out of Margaret’s hands.

“You know what you need?” says Margaret breezily, as Matt types out a barely civil response to Nicholas. “You need a distraction.”

“A what?”

“You know, someone to date.”

“Megs, we’ve had this conversation already. Multiple times this week, actually.”

“Yeah, yeah,” sighs Margaret, handing over a tube of food coloring when Matt sticks his hand out. “You’re too busy, bad at relationships, I know. But get this: what if you dated someone else that was busy?”

“That sounds like a disaster, actually,” Matt deadpans.

“Or,” she replies, drawing out the word for emphasis, “he understands where your priorities are and doesn’t get upset when you spend all day in the bakery.”

Matt scoffs, rolling his eyes and turning back to the fondant without a word.

“I’m serious, Matt. Just trust me on this, just give it a chance.”

“And when it goes wrong?”

Margaret crosses an X over her heart, raising her right hand and looking Matt square in the face. “Then you can say you told me so, and I’ll cook you a consolation dinner.”

That finally gets a smile out of Matt, followed with a breathy chuckle when she glares at him. “I’ve seen you cook,” he laughs. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

Margaret punches him lightly in the arm, nearly toppling off the counter with how far over she has to lean to reach him, and they both dissolve into laughter loud enough to stave off the lingering feeling of irritation that had been hanging over Matt all day.

***

Work orders flood in once word gets out about the new bakery working with Clarke’s events, and between Nicholas’ orders, demands from new local customers, and the everyday running of the shop, Matt hardly gets a moment to breathe from the moment he wakes up to the moment he collapses on his bed and passes out for the night. Margaret does her best to talk him into hiring a couple extra hands, and he caves in and does, eventually; another college student to work the coffee bar on weekends and a promising assistant from the culinary school on the other end of town. However, she doesn’t bring up their conversation about dating until nearly two weeks pass. When she does, it’s with far less grace than she usually has.

“He’s single, you know,” she says, and Matt has to process those four words for a moment before he has the presence of mind to ask for clarification.

“Who?”

“Tall, dark, and handsome,” replies Margaret, a sly smile on her face. The words slam the memory of the man back into the front of his mind, forcing it out of its place tucked neatly away in a box labeled ignore and flashing it in glaring neon behind his eyelids. His surprise must be written on his face, because Margaret crows triumphantly and slaps her knee. “I knew you liked him,” she hisses, laughing gleefully. “I knew it, and you said you didn’t care about him, and you’re still pining over him after a month.”

“I’m not pining,” Matt sniffs, sticking his chin out defiantly. “I don’t even remember his name; how does that count as pining?”

“James,” she says. “His name is James, and he’s single, and he has very pretty blue eyes.”

Matt remembers that much on his own, but he stays silent. Margaret doesn’t need any more ammo than she already has. “And you know this because…?”

“Because I talked to him, you idiot. He’s really nice, actually, just your type.”

“Why are you so determined to set me up?”

“You need a life that isn’t me,” Margaret says, her voice suddenly gentle and a bit sad. The rest of the sentence goes unsaid, the bit that Margaret has learned to leave out if she doesn’t want an emotionally volatile Matthew on her hands, but he can hear it all the same. It doesn’t wind him up the way it used to, though. He knows she means well, that she wants him to be able to move on and put his time and energy into something other than the bakery, even if feels like letting go of the one lifeline that ties him to everything he’s lost. It used to make him miserable, the way she dug under his skin and tried to force him out of his shell, but now he’s grateful for her. The least he can do is humor her, just this once, even if he’s convinced that this whole ridiculous idea is doomed to fail.

“All right,” he says, and Margaret’s mouth falls open.

“You’ll do it?”

Matthew shrugs. It’s not the worst plan she’s had, and if she really can net him a date with the man from before, it’s one that he’s more than willing to go along with.

“Just tell me what you need me to do,” he replies, and the look on Margaret’s face is enough to brighten up the rest of his week.