Heartbreak Cake (24 page)

So I did.

“I don’t know if this is going to smooth things over, but I couldn’t just stand there and lie to everyone.”

“Well it seems like it worked, at least with some of the crowd.” Noah points over to Pedro, who is being mobbed by happy brides-to-be trying to get a look at our portfolio.

“I’ll have to go help him, but if you’d like to come by my house tonight for a late night glass of wine…”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“That is entirely up to you. Oh, and I just made a batch of dark chocolate cherry truffles.”

“You’re my dream girl. You know that, right? I mean, some guys like dirty talk, but me, I like food talk.” He pulls me close against him. “Say it again.”

“Dark chocolate. Cacao nibs, sea salt, and dried bing cherries.”

“Mmmmmmhhhmm. What else?”

“Brown sugar shortbread crumbled atop a coconut gelato.”

“Yes, yes.”

“Chocolate. Flourless. Cake.”

“I’m yours.” Noah gives me kiss, right there in front of everyone. And the sincerity of it leaves me feeling hopeful as we part and he disappears into the sea of pink-wearing ladies.

“Looks like you’re moving on.”

I close my eyes at the sound of Valentina’s voice and count to ten before I answer. Yet another tip from my mom’s book of tricks, seeing as her advice has worked for me once already.

“You have no idea about anything in my life.”

“No, but I do have to say that you are a much better actress than I knew. Josh never told me that you could be…a worthy opponent.”

“That’s what’s so sad about all this, Valentina. You see this as some kind of war, as if we are in the ring trying to battle it out over Josh. We aren’t. I’m trying to repair what I’ve done and move on with my life.”

“With Noah?” she asks.

“I don’t know, maybe? It shouldn’t matter to you how I move on. Just that I am trying. At this point, you’re the only one dragging this out and making it worse.”

Valentina smoothes her pink blazer and pulls her back proudly.

“You think what you just did is going to help you? You just ran yourself out of town. Maybe some people now may think you are sorry, but in the end, Indira, no one will forget the one thing that’s true. You had an affair with a married man. And that will never be good for business.”

She waddles off, her slim curvaceous figure still magazine-worthy despite the tiniest of baby bumps beginning to show.

She’s right. I may have given myself a reprieve tonight, but the truth is no one will ever forget what I did. The trick will be to outlast and outshine my mistake. I think I can, but will Valentina ever let me? Or will she always see me as a threat to her marriage? Even though I never really was. Josh never had any intention of being with me.

“What was she saying?” Pedro stands next to me and we both watch as she approaches the Crystal Cove table and wraps her arms around Josh’s waist. He leans down and gives her an absent kiss on her forehead and then walks away leaving her alone.

For a moment, I feel sorry for her because I know her anger toward me has a lot to do with Josh not being the same man he was before she left him. But that has little to do with me and everything to do with her breaking his heart years ago.

“It doesn’t even matter anymore.”

***

I set my car keys down on my kitchen table and exhale deeply. I survived my first Pink Sprinkle, and now I have a few hours to kill before Noah arrives for wine and truffles.

One of my many reasons for not dating a chef was opposing work hours. They generally aren’t done with work ‘til at least midnight, and I’m usually up by 5 a.m. It’s not ideal, but sometimes it’s okay to stay up late just like I used to in college.

Especially for a cute boy.

I stand inside my kitchen pantry going over a recipe I started to create this evening in my head. Inspired by the women who came over to talk to me about their own broken hearts, their mistakes, and what helped them bounce back, I had an idea for a cake that could be a great heartbreak buddy.

Pulling ingredients, I grab a bar of dark chocolate and milk chocolate, dark cocoa powder, baking powder, and a bag of hazelnuts.

Simple, sweet and hopeful.

One always needs hope after a breakup, I think, as I remove the foil from the milk chocolate bar and begin to chop it. A beacon to remind you that you will survive and eventually, thrive.

After I moved out of what was my home with Josh, I was sleeping on Rebecca’s couch and living in the swanky part of Long Beach called Naples, a picturesque beach community surrounded by canals and yachts with a maze of walkways where you could easily get lost.

I took up running very early in the morning mainly because I found that I couldn’t sleep. Heartache kept me up thinking, crying, and trying to piece together what was lost. How did I miss the important fact that Josh didn’t love me in the same way I loved him?

While on a run, I turned left on a street called Esperanza. In Spanish, this means hope. I made a left and smiled as I ran down Hope Street and right into a fourplex that I would’ve missed had I been in a car.

A Spanish-style charmer, I thought to myself, as if reading a description in a real estate ad. Four individual apartments, that looked like they were each two-story, each one with a patio and a balcony, and I bet a wicked view of the ocean.

I imagined planting a little kitchen herb garden in one of those balconies and watching the sun rise on Esperanza Street.

“You’re up early,” an older woman who looked like an aging gypsy with big brown eyes and wearing a scarf in magenta and lime around her neck. She pushed out a trash can on wheels, and I noticed she was wearing a pair of slippers that looked like orange cats.

“I’m a baker. I’m always up pretty early, no matter how tired I am. It’s my curse.”

“A baker? Sounds like a gift, not a curse,” she exclaimed happily. “I’m Enid Dmitri. Welcome to Esperanza Court.”

“It’s beautiful. There’s something special about this building, isn’t there?” I leaned on the wrought iron fence separating us.

“I think so. Do you have time to come take a look? I want to show you something that I think your baker’s heart will love.”

She opened the gate to the building and invited me in. And at the time, I remember thinking that I should just keep going. Rebecca would freak if she found me missing from her couch. I had been a permanent fixture there for the previous few weeks along with her throw pillows and cat.

“It won’t be long. I just think you’d appreciate this. Come. I don’t bite.”

I followed her through the courtyard to a unit on the far left. The door was turquoise and had a multicolored stained glass window.

“I haven’t rented this one, not for a while,” she explained, taking out a set of keys. “I don’t rent every unit, I own this building and it’s already paid for—I married well.”

She gave me a wink and opened the door to a foyer with a staircase that led to the apartment, which was on a second level.

“This building has been here since 1948. It’s old, or charming, depends on how you see it.”

“I see it as charming.”

“I thought you might,” she said. “Which is why I wanted you to see this.” She held open the door for me, and I stepped into a mint condition, 1940s apartment with crown molding, oversized bay windows that faced the ocean, dark red wood flooring, and a balcony with just enough room for a small breakfast table—just like I had envisioned in my daydream.

We walked around, she gave me the history of the building, and told me about the other two tenants who lived in “Chateau Dmitri,” she joked.

“Each unit has its own special appeal. One has a small office space, which I rented to a writer. He never leaves that apartment of his except to go buy coffee. The other unit has a huge enclosed patio. I rented it to a landscape designer who turned her garden into a little piece of heaven. We’ve had a few building parties at her house.

“And then there is this apartment.” She motioned me to follow her into the kitchen. “Which I’ve been saving for a cook or maybe a baker. What do you think?”

She swung open the kitchen door and we walked into a space nearly double the size of the living room. Spacious, immaculate, with a built-in-breakfast nook that was up against a huge window facing the courtyard. But it was the stove that stole my heart. A mint green 1950s Merritt O’Keefe stove in perfect condition with four burners, a chrome griddle, a working clock that read 6:45 a.m., and a warming oven top. Perfect for warm chocolate chip cookies, I thought.

“There’s a walk in pantry,” Mrs. Dmitri pointed and I walked in and marveled at the space and shelves that seemed to go on and on.

“Are you renting this unit?” I finally said. “Depends. Are you looking?”

“I think I am, but I didn’t know it until just now.”

“I think I’d like you to live here. I get a sense about these things.”

Mrs. Dmitri looked kindly at me, and I suddenly felt like I had to live there.

“You should know, I don’t have a lot of money. I’m about to quit my job. And I have a cat.”

“We can talk about the rent. And we love cats.”

“Thank you. I got up this morning and started to run because I didn’t know what else to do with my day.

“Sometimes you just need a little hope.”

“Or in this case,
Esperanza
.”

I pour the chocolate batter into two heart shaped cake pans, and clean the bowl with a spatula and take a swipe of chocolate with my finger and pop it into my mouth.

Oh, that’s good.

Tossing chopped hazelnuts on top of the batter, I then shave dark chocolate to seal everything with another layer of chocolate. Once it’s baked, I’ll top it with a chocolate buttercream frosting, hazelnuts, and ribbons of chocolate.

That should take care of any kind of sadness, I think with glee, as I slide the two cake pans into the oven and set the timer for 25 minutes.

Completely entrenched in recipe testing for the last two hours, I look at the clock on the stove and realize it’s almost 1 a.m. I never did heard from Noah, and I feel disappointment sear through me. There were so many nights that Josh would not show up, and I’d wait around for him, retouching lip-gloss until I would finally go to bed realizing that he didn’t even have the courtesy to call.

Maybe this is just what happens? I think as I walk toward my bedroom to slip into my pajamas.

“Hi, are you done?” Noah is propped up on my bed with a glass of wine and Norma lying happily aside him.

Some guard cat she is, I think.

“What? How long have you been here? And how did you get in?”

“You left the door unlocked, which we need to talk about…that’s not safe, being a single woman and all.

“I didn’t hear you. You didn’t call.”

“I knocked at the door and you didn’t answer. I heard you playing music, though. Sounded like chick music so I figured you were in the zone. I peeked in and you were in the kitchen, completely focused on frosting a cake.”

“I was. I’ve been testing a recipe since I got home. I think I finally got it right. But there are samples to be had.”

I jump on the bed, thrilled to see him and so glad he wasn’t following in Josh’s footsteps.

“I’m glad you made yourself at home. Brought wine, even.”

“I stole it from Josh’s office. I figured it’s the least he could do.”

We both laugh and he leans over to give me a sweet kiss.

“You taste like chocolate.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Oh, and I forgot my pjs,” he says as he sets his wine glass down on the night stand and pins me on the bed with a sly smile. “Hope that’s going to be okay with you.”

Chapter 19