Forever Loved

“He’ll have to get used to us being all gross and kissy,” Gavin said, gri

“Have you talked to Rosa about his first overnight yet?”

“Not sure I’m ready.” He frowned as he actually tasted the frosting I’d given him. “That’s a weird one.”

“Yeah, it has caye

Gavin shuddered. “Oh, yeah, that’s really bad.”

I handed him my glass of water. “Here. Wash it down.”

He gulped for a second, his eyes traveling back to Manuelito, who was about to snatch up one of the cakes. “He’s going for it.”

Je

Manuelito looked up at her, confusion creasing his brow.

“Vegetables,” Je

The boy made a face and pushed it farther along the counter.

“Yeah, he understood that,” Je

“You girls picked a crazy place.” He ruffled Manuelito’s hair. “You be good for Corabelle, okay?”

The boy nodded, now looking with suspicion at all the other cakes.

Gavin leaned back toward me and kissed my hair. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I know this still isn’t easy.”

I squeezed his hand. “We’ll be fine. Je

The woman who managed the weddings reappeared from the back, holding another small tray of cakes in front of her pink apron. She looked like a housewife from a 1950s ad.

“I brought some more traditional selections out.” She glanced at Gavin’s retreating figure. “Was that the groom?”

“Oh yeah,” Je

The woman smiled as though she were used to customers saying completely random things. “Oh, and I see we have a new little addition.”

Manuelito was just pulling his finger out of a tiny tub of chocolate frosting. His eyes got wide as saucers, realizing he was caught.

“I have just the thing for you,” she said, bending over to retrieve a plain oversized cookie from the bottom rack of the display case. “Come with me.”

She lifted a section of the counter to step out into the room. “What’s his name?”

“Manuel,” I said.

“Come here, Manuel.” She walked over to a tiny table meant for children and tugged a long piece of wax paper from a roll on one end, setting the cookie on it. “Would you like to decorate a cookie?”

I had no idea if Manuel understood what she was saying, but he seemed to recognize the tiny chair was meant for him and sat in it.

The woman looked up at us. “We often have little guests while we’re sampling. This will keep him busy for a while.”

She opened a cabinet in the wall behind her and withdrew three more tiny frosting tubs and a brush. “You can paint a picture on it with frosting,” she said, handing him the brush.

He looked at it, confused, until she dipped the end in the frosting and spread a line across the face of the cookie. Then he snatched the brush and stuck it in the pot, dumping yellow across its surface.

“There we go,” she said, returning to the counter. “Why don’t you try the traditional white cake now?”

“I think that’s going to be a whole lot better than the ginger-oregano one,” Je

The woman’s face remained impassive. “Our signature flavors aren’t for everyone.”

We each took a forkful of the white cake, soft and nuanced with a hint of almond extract.

“Now this is good,” Je

“Yes, we’ll go with the simple one,” I said, glad to have a decision made. I wanted everything to be as easy as possible, but Je

“So, white cake.” The woman jotted a note. “Just one tier.”

“It’s going to be very small,” I said.

She nodded. “Very sensible.” She flipped through a book of images of cakes. “And this design, right, just some white-on-white decorative swirls?”

“That’s fine,” I said. I didn’t really have any opinions about the cake.

“No, not fine,” Je

The woman turned a few more pages, showing images of flower cakes. “Lilies? Roses?”

“Hyacinths,” I said before I could even think of why.

“That’s a lovely choice. Are your wedding colors going to be purple?”

“I guess so.” I suddenly second-guessed my choice. I had chosen hyacinths for Fi

“Any other adornments in the design?” the woman asked. “Oh, look, he’s made his cookie.”

Manuelito stood between me and Je

“Whatcha got there, little man?” Je

“Corbell,” he said.

He’d never actually said my name before. I looked down at him, holding up the cookie, and my throat closed so tight I couldn’t have answered him if I wanted to. In a shaky, messy spread of frosting, Manuelito had painted an unmistakable image of a butterfly with a green body and little dots of blue on four yellow wings.

The butterflies that matched Fi

Fi

I reached for the cookie with trembling fingers. “Thank you, Manuel.”

He gri

Gavin would peek at me and say, “Found ya!” and his face would look exactly like Manuelito’s, joyful, eager, and pleased with himself. If this boy was anything like his father, then he and I would have everything in common.

Manuelito turned his face up high to look at the bakery woman. “More?”

We all laughed and the woman, probably mollified that Je

“Is this one going to be for me?” Je

Manuel accepted the cookie and headed back to his table without answering.

“Little turkey, playing favorites,” Je

I looked at Manuelito’s cookie. “Are there any butterflies?”

“Oh yes.” The woman flipped the page and revealed a beautiful cake covered in pastel wings and golden bodies, all intertwined with pale green stems like ribbons.

“That’s it,” I said. “That’s the one.”

“No hyacinths?” she asked.

“No. This is it.” Wedding, not funeral. Future, not past.

I spun around on the stool, watching Manuelito spread frosting across a cookie. Gavin and his son were a package deal. No matter how this little boy got here, and no matter whether or not we were ever given a sibling for him, he was ours.

“Hey, Manuel?”

He glanced up and rubbed his hand across his nose, leaving a smear of blue frosting.

“Shall we take some cookies home to Papa Gavin?”

His dark eyes lit up, his little chin nodding up and down. “Yes!” he said. “More!” He returned to his cookie, spreading the frosting in earnest, as intense as Albert with his painting of the castle and its one lone light.