put on the finishing touch. She used her standing mixer to whip up a fresh batch of buttercream. Using a pastry bag with an open tip, she piped a fat dollop of frosting onto the cupcake.
The door swung open and she was about to give Tate a hairy eyeball for interrupting her again. Instead it was Angie who joined her.
“The bakery is closed for the night. The boys have all been booted,” she said. “I figured you could use some help prepping the goods for tomorrow’s cupcake tower.”
“Thanks,” Mel said. She gestured to the other side of the table and said, “Grab a seat.”
“What are we making?” Angie asked.
Mel put down her pastry bag and opened one of her tubs of yellow and orange fondant butterflies.
“I cut out and molded the fondant butterflies last night,” Mel said. “We just need to brush them with luster dust to make them sparkly and plant them in the vanilla buttercream.”
Mel opened one of the three containers of luster dust and, using a paintbrush, she swept an edible coating of glitter onto a butterfly’s wings.
“Oh, wow, these are too pretty to eat,” Angie said as she examined the tub of butterflies.
Mel gave her a look and Angie laughed. “Okay, yeah, I could totally bite the wings off of these buggers.”
Mel laughed. “I wish we could bite the wings off of Tate.”
Angie frowned. “What do you mean?”
“He’s just so into taking the business to the next level,” Mel said. “He’s driving me bananas.”
“He’s just an overachiever,” Angie said. “Since he left the world of high finance, he’s struggling to find a place to put his financial prowess.”
“Well, he needs to find something other than
my
bakery,” Mel said.
“It’s not
your
bakery,” Angie corrected her.
Mel frowned. She did not appreciate the tone Angie was taking with her.
“Well, excuse me,” Mel said.
“No, I won’t,” Angie said.
There was a fire in Angie’s eyes, which should have warned Mel off. But she’d had a rough day, too, and wasn’t really in the mood for attitude, even from her best friend.
“It belongs to all of us and frankly your fear of commitment is holding us back,” Angie said.
“Hey, what happened to liking our operation as it is and ‘Tate needs a kick in the pants’?” Mel asked.
Angie blew out a breath. “Tate and I have been talking, and I’ve reconsidered. Also, I think my words might have come out more harshly than I intended.”
“You think? How can you say
I
have a fear of commitment?” Mel asked. She slammed her little paintbrush with the luster dust on it onto the steel table. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Angie asked.
“You gave up a career in teaching to work in a bakery,” Mel said.
“I wanted to help you,” Angie said.
“Oh, please,” Mel shook her head. “You were just avoiding a commitment to a career. Just like pining after Tate keeps you from having a real relationship.”
“What?” Angie snapped.
“You heard me,” Mel retorted. “Look at you, you dumped a rock star who was in love with you for a childhood friend who is still holding you at arm’s length. And you say I have a fear of commitment? Look in the mirror, sweetie.”
Mel knew she had gone too far when Angie’s face turned a mottled shade of red and she started breathing through her nose like a bull about to charge.
“I don’t have to,” Angie growled. “I’m looking at the poster child for commitment phobia and low self-esteem right now. You’re terrified of making a commitment because you don’t believe in your own self-worth and you’re afraid you might get hurt. That’s why you broke up with my brother and broke his heart, because you’re a big chicken.”
“That is not—You are so off base—So you
are
mad at me!” Mel shouted. “I knew it!”
“Of course I’m mad at you!” Angie shouted in return. “Joe is my brother and you’re my best friend. Did you even stop to think
The door swung open and she was about to give Tate a hairy eyeball for interrupting her again. Instead it was Angie who joined her.
“The bakery is closed for the night. The boys have all been booted,” she said. “I figured you could use some help prepping the goods for tomorrow’s cupcake tower.”
“Thanks,” Mel said. She gestured to the other side of the table and said, “Grab a seat.”
“What are we making?” Angie asked.
Mel put down her pastry bag and opened one of her tubs of yellow and orange fondant butterflies.
“I cut out and molded the fondant butterflies last night,” Mel said. “We just need to brush them with luster dust to make them sparkly and plant them in the vanilla buttercream.”
Mel opened one of the three containers of luster dust and, using a paintbrush, she swept an edible coating of glitter onto a butterfly’s wings.
“Oh, wow, these are too pretty to eat,” Angie said as she examined the tub of butterflies.
Mel gave her a look and Angie laughed. “Okay, yeah, I could totally bite the wings off of these buggers.”
Mel laughed. “I wish we could bite the wings off of Tate.”
Angie frowned. “What do you mean?”
“He’s just so into taking the business to the next level,” Mel said. “He’s driving me bananas.”
“He’s just an overachiever,” Angie said. “Since he left the world of high finance, he’s struggling to find a place to put his financial prowess.”
“Well, he needs to find something other than
my
bakery,” Mel said.
“It’s not
your
bakery,” Angie corrected her.
Mel frowned. She did not appreciate the tone Angie was taking with her.
“Well, excuse me,” Mel said.
“No, I won’t,” Angie said.
There was a fire in Angie’s eyes, which should have warned Mel off. But she’d had a rough day, too, and wasn’t really in the mood for attitude, even from her best friend.
“It belongs to all of us and frankly your fear of commitment is holding us back,” Angie said.
“Hey, what happened to liking our operation as it is and ‘Tate needs a kick in the pants’?” Mel asked.
Angie blew out a breath. “Tate and I have been talking, and I’ve reconsidered. Also, I think my words might have come out more harshly than I intended.”
“You think? How can you say
I
have a fear of commitment?” Mel asked. She slammed her little paintbrush with the luster dust on it onto the steel table. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Angie asked.
“You gave up a career in teaching to work in a bakery,” Mel said.
“I wanted to help you,” Angie said.
“Oh, please,” Mel shook her head. “You were just avoiding a commitment to a career. Just like pining after Tate keeps you from having a real relationship.”
“What?” Angie snapped.
“You heard me,” Mel retorted. “Look at you, you dumped a rock star who was in love with you for a childhood friend who is still holding you at arm’s length. And you say I have a fear of commitment? Look in the mirror, sweetie.”
Mel knew she had gone too far when Angie’s face turned a mottled shade of red and she started breathing through her nose like a bull about to charge.
“I don’t have to,” Angie growled. “I’m looking at the poster child for commitment phobia and low self-esteem right now. You’re terrified of making a commitment because you don’t believe in your own self-worth and you’re afraid you might get hurt. That’s why you broke up with my brother and broke his heart, because you’re a big chicken.”
“That is not—You are so off base—So you
are
mad at me!” Mel shouted. “I knew it!”
“Of course I’m mad at you!” Angie shouted in return. “Joe is my brother and you’re my best friend. Did you even stop to think
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