Cass gazed at the colorful, creamy confections before her, and then selected a cannoli, biting into it and murmuring, her mouth still full, “This is heaven,” to Fabrizio’s obvious delight. “I don’t ever want this night to end.”
* * *
? ? ?
It was past midnight by the time Cass and Miguel arrived outside Charlie’s building. They had walked through the streets slowly, talking and laughing and completely focused on each other. Charlie now knew that Miguel was the youngest of three kids, and that his entire family was in the medical field; his older brother, Romero, was a cardiovascular surgeon; Jacintha an obstetrician; and both his parents had been family doctors before they retired. Miguel joked that he was clearly the “underachiever of the family,” but that he’d chosen to be a physician assistant because it offered better balance.
“I still get to surf,” Miguel had told her. “And read, and do yoga, and go out for dinner, and enjoy my life. They all think I’m crazy, but I don’t care. So what if I’m the black sheep of my family? I love what I do, but I’m not willing to give up everything for it, you know?”
Cass nodded, thinking about how the bakery wasn’t quite like being in a surgical suite but was all-consuming nonetheless.
Now that they stood outside Charlie’s building, Cass felt she didn’t want the magic of the evening to end. It had been the perfect first date. Her first, first date. In a few seconds it would be over—and she didn’t want it to be.
“Thank you,” Cass began. “Tonight was . . .”
Miguel was quiet, waiting for her to finish her thought. He stood close, and then smiled.
“Perfect,” Miguel said, echoing her thoughts. “Tonight was perfect.”
“It was.”
“Thank you, Charlie.” But before she could experience a hit of guilt at her sister’s name, Miguel’s lips were on hers. She lost herself in the kiss, which was, not surprisingly, also perfect.
After a few moments Miguel broke the kiss, and Cass found herself slightly off balance, her lips tingling from the delicious pressure of his mouth on hers. With a shy smile, Miguel handed her one of Fabrizio’s business cards. Cass looked from the card to his face.
“Flip it over,” he said. Miguel’s phone number was written on the back. “I hope you’ll call me. I’d like to do this again.”
“I will,” Cass said. Miguel leaned in and gave her another soft kiss. Then he stepped backward down the sidewalk for a few steps before giving her a final, dimpled smile and turning around to walk home.
As Cass was unlocking the door to her sister’s apartment, her mind full of thoughts of Miguel and their perfect first kiss, her phone rang. She dropped everything. “Charlie!” The dreamlike bliss she’d been feeling evaporated the moment she heard her sister’s voice.
“Cass, we need to talk.”
10
Charlie
Friday: 8 Days Until Christmas . . .
Starlight Peak
It was already 6:30 p.m. and Charlie double-checked the items on Cass’s kitchen island, making sure she had everything she needed for dinner. The potatoes were in the oven baking and would soon be soft enough for the gnocchi. Gateau purred as she wove around Charlie’s legs, waiting for a ham roll or nibble of cheese.
“Soon, Gateau,” Charlie promised, crouching to pet the cat. She had become quite fond of the animal during the past few days, and would miss her when she went back to L.A. But not as much as she would miss someone else.
She was excited to see Jake but also had a lingering sense of guilt and a dull headache that seemed resistant to the ibuprofen she’d popped earlier. Thankfully, her taste buds were functioning well again—her morning coffee had actually tasted like coffee. She knew, after that first taste of coffee, that she could—should—switch back with Cass. But then the orders had started pouring in and, after closing the bakery she’d been focused on getting ready for her date with Jake. Jake. She wasn’t quite ready to let go of him yet, even if that was best for everyone. I’ll tell Cass first thing tomorrow and then head back to L.A., Charlie promised herself.
Thinking about her sister and L.A., she suddenly remembered she’d forgotten to return Cass’s call from earlier. Even though her concussion symptoms seemed nearly gone, her memory still felt like a sieve. As if on cue, the bakery’s phone rang—the sound somewhat muted because she was in the apartment upstairs. Hoping it was Cass, Charlie sprinted down the stairs to answer it.