GiGi

Her fingers were cramped as she sculpted her ninetieth ivy leaf out of royal icing. She still had to do sugar butterflies on top of the buildings—her last-minute idea that would put the whole thing over the top.

Yesterday, GiGi had determined that if she managed her time she should be done with this by 11 p.m. tonight, giving her plenty of time to sleep and be fresh as a daisy in the morning.

The rehearsal dinner had run long, the speeches went long, and she finally had to excuse herself at 10 p.m. with apologies to go back to the kitchen to take care of the cake. As she sculpted away, she thought bitterly how nice it would be to have a huge staff at her disposal to meet her deadlines. Why had she insisted on keeping Vann and his staff away from the cake? She had glanced over at Vann during the rehearsal dinner and he looked gloriously relaxed. He was drinking his vodka tonics and howling with laughter with all his buddies, his tie loosened and his top buttons undone exposing his sun-kissed tan, which he no doubt got somewhere on a beach last week.

She knew she couldn’t be mad at him. He had done nothing wrong. But her reptile brain kept making comparisons. That’s just what it did. Her competitive, perfectionist nature would not allow her mind to simply be in the zone.

Pretty soon she decided to take a break to look everything over. She had the whole base assembled and iced, and it perfectly resembled Bourbon Street, down to street signs made of candy and translucent windows made of gelatin that would be lit up from the inside. The only thing left was making the little chocolate people and the bride and groom on top of the wedding float.

GiGi went into the pantry to get the chocolate molds she needed. That was odd, she thought. The molds were not where they were supposed to be. These molds she had specially commissioned for this project. These molds that had set her back a pretty penny. And yet they were not there. She swore she had left them on the shelf right there in the pantry, but there was no sign of them. She opened cabinets and pulled out drawers. Oh shit. This was bad.

She rested her hands on the butcher block counter and tried to breathe. Think, GiGi. Where did you leave them? This was unacceptable. Looking around like this was wasting time. She was not going to get any sleep now. Should she keep looking or come up with a plan B? Gum paste? Awful. Rice Krispie treats molded into little people? Gross and crude looking.

And then, the panic settled in her chest. This was not good. She tried to breathe, but her chest was starting to feel tight. She needed to get outside to get some air and just think. The smell of sugar and butter was overwhelming. GiGi bolted out the back door and into the alleyway and braced herself against the brick wall and started to cry. This was it. She failed. There would be no perfect cake. It would just be an OK cake. The tears came and came and came. And then, the next thing she knew, warm hands were gripping her. A man’s voice. A blanket around her. She was sitting down in her couch in her office, someone was next to her, helping her remember how to breathe in and out to calm herself down.

Most likely it was Vann, but she couldn’t be sure, she was so exhausted. When her breathing returned to normal, She felt him next to her. He was kissing her forehead and telling her to lie down.

“No, it’s not done. The chocolate molds. Somebody stole them. I can’t make little parade people, it’s too much.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“You don’t know how to temper chocolate. It has to be shiny. Not just regular shiny, but wedding shiny. It’s a whole other level of shiny. Do you know what wedding shiny is?”

“I did go to culinary school, my love. I do remember things.”

“Also, I have to attach all those tiny little flowers and leaves and make the butterflies…and oh shit, I was going to do the piping around the base to look like little Mardi Gras beads.”

But all Vann said was, “Shhhh,” and laid her down on the couch. He tucked his jacket under her head for a pillow.

“GiGi, I want you to do exactly as I say. You are a fucking rock star, but even rock stars need to sleep. Close your eyes.”

As soon as she did, she was out.

* * *

When she woke up, she had a crick in her neck that told her she had slept way too long. She sat up and checked her phone. It was 9 a.m. It was would be time to deliver the cake in 30 minutes.

Shit! It wasn’t done. It was really fucking far from done. She had failed. She bolted out of her office and went into the kitchen. But it was empty. In fact, it was spotless. Not just that, but the stainless steel was gleaming. Someone had cleaned up in here and moved the cake!

She opened the fridge and sucked in her breath.

There it was. Completely finished. The ivy vines, candied ferns and royal icing pansies from the tiny hanging balcony baskets were all attached. There were gorgeous orange and purple and white sugar butterflies alighting on the delicate little balcony railings. There was beaded piping around the base. And there, filing down the little street, was a row of musicians made of all shades of chocolate, all tempered to the highest shine she had ever seen. And on top of the white chocolate cake float was a tiny white chocolate version of Rosemary and Ash, down to the right colored hair. It was hands down the most beautiful cake she had ever seen.

Vann had saved her ass but good.

But where was he? She checked her phone again. He would probably be overseeing the food delivery to the reception venue by now.

She sent him a text. All it said was, Thank you. I love you so much. I’ll thank you in person during the reception if you can get away.

Just then, a Land Rover from the DuChamps mansion arrived to pick up the cake. The reply came, You’re welcome, angel. I’m only sad I didn’t get to see your face when you opened the fridge and saw the cake. I hope it is up to your standards. I hated seeing you suffer.

How did you manage to do the chocolate?

You left the molds in your office, in a box. On top of your desk. I think you were so tired you had forgotten you never put them away after they were delivered.

Really? OMG. Prepare yourself, Buster. I’m gonna suck you dry.

* * *

GiGi and the cake arrived at the wedding venue, a huge riverboat, just in time to help Rosemary pull on her wedding dress, along with help from Chas and Penny.

She had been worried all the way to the dock that Rosemary would be mad she had missed the girls’ breakfast that morning.

“Oh, honey, you’ve been working yourself to death on that cake. Vann told me you worked all night putting on all those little flowers and that I should just let you sleep. So don’t even worry about it.”

So, Vann not only saved her ass, he wasn’t even going to take credit for it. Wow.

When Vann took her arm as the string quartet began to play, she whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what?” he muttered as they made their way up the aisle.

“You know what.”

“No need to thank me. I don’t know what you're talking about.”

“Flowers. Tempered chocolate. How did you do it?”

“Let’s just keep it a mystery until the wedding night.”

“Huh?”

“You need more sleep. You’re not catching my drift. Let’s just say I’ll tell you all of it after I get your clothes off later.”

The thought of having Vann between her legs again made her swoon so hard she almost stumbled up the aisle. Her mind was finally so at ease, she could not have cared less what anybody thought if she had decided to nail this man right here in the middle of the ceremony.

Thinking about what she was going to do to him later seemed to make the ceremony last forever. No offense to her dear, sweet Rosemary and the dashing groom. But GiGi’s only thought through the entire thing was, let’s get on with it, I got celebrity chef dick to suck.

The ceremonial kiss was so sweet to watch, GiGi could not help but get turned on. Ash looked deep in Rosemary’s eyes with the slightest grin on his lips. As if he was looking forward to ravishing her later, and every night for the rest of their lives. She wondered if Vann felt that when he looked at her.

Then Vann caught her eye over Ash’s shoulder. And she knew. With his eyes he silently communicated to her what was going to happen later. His eyes drifted down to her neck, her chest, all the way down her body. The stare was so intense she could almost feel a slight pressure. When his eyes drifted back up to meet her gaze, she licked her lips. That was dirty of her. She knew because she saw the slightest narrowing of his eyes.

At the reception, everyone stopped her to say how they could not wait to taste the beautiful cake. But GiGI was less interested in hearing about how it was the most original cake anyone had ever seen or tasted, and more interested in seeing and having a taste of her fiancé Vann. She liked the sound of that word. Wait, no she didn’t. She liked the word “husband” better.

When she finally found him, once again talking to Candi with an “i,” GiGi apologized to the poor fangirl and proceeded to drag her blond Viking god down below deck.

“Hey!” shouted Candi.

“Sorry, not sorry!” GiGi shouted as she and her man sprinted away.