“This is the wrong cake.” She stared down at the icing letters, rolling her eyes. Happy Retirement, Bobby Boy. “My sister’s name is Bessie, she’s getting married. She just wanted me to pick up the small sample cakes. Can you go back there and look for those? Please?”
“Aunt Joey,” Joey turned at the tug on her sleeve, “can I get somethin’?”
She made a quick check of the rest of the store and darted a look down at her watch. Nine-thirty. Probably too early for cake, truffles, and tiramisú. “Al, just hang on another minute, kay? I can take you out for breakfast.”
“I’m hungry now.” He stared up at her with a baleful gaze and a trembling lower lip.
Joey bit down on her lip, her resolve wavering. “I promise, Alexander. I’ll get you anything you want for breakfast if you just wait here nicely. I can make you pancakes back at the B&B?”
“You can make pancakes?” Alex’s eyes grew wide with awe.
“Yeah, Jo, you can make pancakes?” The teasing voice tingled along her spine.
“Alex, I can make pancakes.” Pacey was grinning at her when she whirled around to face him, a scowl on her lips. “Pacey. What are you doing here?”
“I was walking past, saw the little man here, figured his aunt could use some help-”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” She smiled tightly. “I don’t need any help. It was nice of you to say hello though.”
Pacey ignored her tone and grinned easily, bouncing from foot to foot in front of her. “Joey, I could take Alexander off your hands. He must be ready for breakfast by now. Egg McMuffin, kid?” He lifted the little boy up by the armpits in front of him, his expression mock stern.
“Please, Aunt Jo?” Alex giggled as Pacey tossed him over one shoulder, tickling his sides mercilessly. “Stop it, Pacey.”
“I,” she sighed, defeated, “yeah, okay. I have to finish up here, make sure the flowers are set, and go to a dress fitting. Can you meet me there at one?”
“Sure,” Pacey agreed, finally dropping Alex back onto his feet. He ruffled his hair affectionately and Joey watched their interaction with a smile. A smile that faded as she began to feel increasingly detached. She brushed at a piece of lint on the edge of her sweater sleeve. “We’ll be there. Jo?”
“Yeah?” She looked up, snapping to attention.
“I can hang out and help you, if you need an extra pair of hands or something...” He trailed off at her look.
“Pacey, it’s cake, flowers, and trying on a dress. How hard could it be? Go.” She kissed the top of her nephew’s head. “Be good.”
“I will, Aunt Jo,” Alex promised.
“Not you,” she said, her eyes twinkling, “Pacey.”
Pacey held up a hand. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”
She grinned. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” The young cashier from the bakery chose that moment to return, holding a large souffle in his hands clumsily.
“I found it for ya, Ms. Potter, Betsy’s souffle. For the shower.” He thrust it in her face and her eyes widened. He waited expectantly for her to accept it. Pacey bit back laughter while Alex rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand. Alex sniffled once, pulling Joey’s eyes to him. She saw what happened next in slow motion. One sneeze and the whole souffle deflated noisily.
To be truthful, Joey would later remember, the pastry was silent in its fall, the clerk was the one who let out the blood curdling shriek. Then Pacey laughed, ruffling Alex’s hair and patting Joey on the back. “You sure you’re-”
“Go get breakfast, boys.” She shook her head, sighing. The clerk’s face was turning red as he continued to stare at the gooey mess in his hands. The bell on the front door rang as Pacey and Alex raced out, hand in hand. She allowed the clerk a minute to gather himself before taking a breath and pressing on. “Now about the sample cakes for Bessie, surely you have them back there?”
**
“Potter, Bessie. These are the dresses we have,” the sales lady said in a pinched tone.
“They can’t be,” Joey protested. Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides. “Bessie would never pick that.”
“She would and she did.” Pacey appeared in front of her before she ever heard the quiet ding of the bridal shop’s doorbell. Alexander peeked out from behind Pacey’s long legs with an impish smile. The sales lady placed the gowns on a rolling clothing rack with a snobbish glare. Joey simply shook her head in defeat. “I think they’re okay looking, Potter.”
The wedding gown was blindingly white. Squinting at it helplessly, Joey took in the detailed beading around the high neckline, the rigid starched full skirt, the long train and the lacy bustle. Beside it was a burgundy dress with a similar halter neckline, a matching tulle skirt in a shorter knee length version and only moderately tamer beading along the bodice. Joey reached out tentative fingers to brush against the cool, rough fabric and frowned. “It just isn’t Bessie.”
Pacey looked over Joey’s shoulder at the dresses and shrugged. He began carefully. “Bessie seemed pretty happy about them. You’ve been away awhile...”
“I know my sister,” she snapped, turning angry eyes on him.
“I never said you didn’t.” He simply stared, his amused smile merely irritating her more. “They’re kinda pretty. Have you tried yours on yet?” The sales lady that waited behind the dress rack with crossed arms narrowed her eyes in answer.
Joey pulled the dark pink gown off the rack and stomped into the curtained dressing stall. When she returned she found Pacey sitting in an overstuffed armchair, Alex crosslegged and bored beneath him. The two boys looked up, eyes wide as she turned hesitantly in front of them. “What happened to your arms, Joey?”
She looked down at the spattering of tiny red scratches that graced her forearms and rolled her eyes. “Cactus.”
“Cactus?” Pacey’s jaw dropped in disbelief. Joey merely turned to face the mirror, scowling at her reflection in the hideous maroon dress. The skirt jutted out like a tutu and the waist cinched in tightly at her sides. The fabric was stiff and uncomfortable and the beading was so heavy her shoulders ached at the weight. She struggled to smooth out a wrinkle in the stiff tulle, stiffening when the sales lady pulled at it from behind, roughly forcing Joey into a rigid display of good posture. “What exactly were you doing with a cactus?”
“Cactii, actually.” She stared at her reflection defeatedly. “I was pushed into a fleet of cactii.”
Pacey merely stared at her back, dumbfounded. She finally turned to him and his mouth curved into a goofy grin at her appearance. She laughed in spite of herself. “You look beautiful, Jo.”
“I look stupid. Like the world’s least graceful ballerina,” she grumbled. “At the florist’s.”
“What?” He looked at her blankly.
“The cactus. When I went to see Bessie’s flowers, some guy in the store, he was in a hurry, he accidently pushed me into a cactii display.” She held out her arms for Pacey to see. He stared down at the small cuts, his expression softening. His fingers ran over the little red marks gently, rubbing soothing circles over the torn skin. “Thanks,” she whispered, watching his hands move over her arms, up her elbows.
“It’s been a pretty rough day for ya, hasn’t it?” He grinned, his smile fading slowly as he continued to look down at her.
She pulled away from him, staring back into the mirror, her insides churning. “I can’t believe Bessie would want something like this. It’s not her.”
“No,” Pacey amended, hands brushing her hair to one side and massaging the tension out of her shoulders, “It’s not you.”
“Maybe,” she admitted.
“What would you wear?” His clear blue eyes found hers in the mirror. “If you were getting married.”
“I-I don’t know.” Joey shrugged. Scanning the small boutique hesitantly, her eyes landed on a simple off white gown in a thin, fluid satin. The spaghetti straps glimmered with the smallest strand of beads as did the gently curved neckline. The A line gown drifted into a full long skirt with no adornmentation of any kind. It was a dress straight out of an old movie, perfect for spinning graceful circles around a small wooden dance floor. “Maybe something like that.”
Pacey followed her gaze with a small smile. They met each other’s eyes briefly. “That would be nice too.”
“Yeah.” She smiled back at him, startling at her nephew’s loud exasperated sigh. “Alex, I’ll change and then we can go home, kay?”
“Finally.” The boy rolled his eyes dramatically. Pacey laughed as Joey quickly headed back behind the curtained stall.
“What’d you guys end up doing for breakfast?” She reached behind her and struggled to pull the zipper back down.
“The donut shop on Market.” Pacey answered, shuffling his feet in front of the stall.
Slipping back out in front of the curtain, she bit her lip. “Can you get the zipper, Pace?”
“Sure.” He stepped towards her and fumbled with the zipper, his large hands brushing against her bare back as he pulled it down. The shivers that tingled up her spine made her close her eyes involuntarily.
“How are you, Pacey?”
“Good, good,” he murmured shakily, swallowing hard. He backed away from her as he finished, eyeing the smooth skin bared before him. “So, why’d you and your boyfriend split up?”
Joey glanced up at Pacey, searching his eyes for some motive, but found only open curiousity. “Well?”
“Sometimes people just break up,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.
“So I’ve been told,” Pacey commented lightly, an eyebrow arching. “Care to expand?”
Her nose wrinkled. “It’s not all that intriguing. I wasn’t a very good girlfriend.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“You of all people would know...,” she began, her voice dying into a strained whisper, “That is...I mean, it’s really not terribly interesting. I’ll tell you later. How are you?”
The words seemed lame. Pacey paused, watching Joey closely. “Same as I was five minutes ago when you asked that question.”
“Right.” She bit her lip, eyes anxiously darting around him.
“If you don’t want to talk to me about the guy, just let me know. I’ll back off,” Pacey said finally. Joey slipped back into the stall, shutting the curtain with a firm tug. Pulling the dress off and throwing her jeans and sweater back on hurriedly, she pressed her lips together for a moment, the silence stretching between them.
She stepped back out, pulling at a falling bra strap nervously. Pacey watched her for a moment, wondering if she’d ever answer him. Giving up, he reached down to grab Alexander’s hand and tug him back to his feet. He walked to the door to wait for Joey, who reluctantly arranged the final fitting for her sister with the annoyed saleslady.
Joey passed beneath Pacey’s arm as he held the door open for her. As she did she took a deep breath and said all she was willing to say.
“His name was Gabe. We got along and then we didn’t.”
“You fought?” Pacey wondered.
“No, yes,” she frowned, pulling at her sleeves. “We just...we weren’t that serious.”
