“Neither am I,” Lethe warned, as if I expected her to save me a slice. “If you want beach cake, you better order two.”
The poor baker cleared her throat. “I apologize, but I’m confused. Again.”
This was our second tasting, and I still favored my original picks. Lethe favored…whatever was in front of her and within easy reach. As would most of our guests from her side of the family. Volume mattered more to them than pesky things like flavor or presentation.
“The big cake is the centerpiece.” I broke it down for Leslie. “It’s the one my guests will be eating and taking pictures with and talking about for years to come.” Or decades, since necromancers were long-lived. “That’s the one you get to go hog wild decorating to match our theme.”
As a nod to Maud, I had chosen country garden as my theme. Not original, but a classic. The pictures would hold up over time much better than any modern trends.
“Okay.” Nodding, she scribbled notes. “What about the other two? Should they be ornamental as well?”
“Yes.” I pushed a crumb around on my plate. “The bride’s cake and MOH cake will be served alongside the big cake. The two smaller cakes can be muted versions of the big cake so everything matches.”
“Okay.” She kept nodding, kept scribbling. “Three cakes total?”
“I would feel better about six,” Lethe mumbled around a cube of devil’s food cake. Done with the hard choices, she had moved on to eating every single bite Leslie had brought with her. “Mom is coming, and she’ll bring at least six friends with her. Plus Midas.”
Friends meant bodyguards. Her mother was alpha of the Atlanta gwyllgi pack, and her brother was now its beta. He had stepped into the role after Lethe decided to remain in Savannah and start her own pack.
A single gwyllgi cost double the per-person catering fee, which is why they would have a separate buffet while the other guests stuck to a more traditional menu.
Hmm.
Were cake buffets a thing? If not, they should be. Maybe I could kickstart that trend?
Setting that aside for later contemplation, I gave Leslie my full attention. “How many samples did you bring today?”
“Six of your top picks from last time and six new flavors.” She read the combinations off to refresh my memory. “Twelve in all.”
“Okay.” I lowered my hands, smoothing my damp palms across the counter and ignoring the sweat marks that came from imagining the debt I was about to incur. “You’ve got the sketch and the flavors for the big cake now.” Pretty sure I heard my debit card weeping in the next room. “Go ahead and make me three-tiered cakes out of the eleven other samples to be served at the reception.”
Heart palpitations, here I come. Who knew weddings cost so much?
“Eleven is an odd number,” Lethe protested on her way to pour herself a glass of milk. “I say twelve baby cakes.”
I wished I could reach her with my foot to kick her in the shin. “That would give us thirteen, still odd.”
“Thirteen is lucky.” The milk in her glass half gone, she brought the carton back with her. “Trust me.”
“How about this?” I slid off my stool. “You two iron out the details. As long as the big cake and the bride cake are as requested, because I am not sharing my peanut butter cake, Lethe, I won’t nitpick the rest.”
“Vroom?” Keet cocked his head, twitching his feathers. “Vroom?”
“Come on, Keetimus Prime.” I offered him my finger, and he hopped on. “I’ll put you up so you can digest.”
“He prefers Keetatron, thank you.” Lethe wiped off her milk mustache with her thumb. “Do you feel better now that you’ve yelled at me?”
“A little.” I rubbed over Keet’s ear holes. “Ranting helped.”
“You can’t let this wedding stuff stress you out.” Lethe claimed my stool, right in front of my picked-over plate. “Let me be all matron-of-honorly. You go relax and think happy bridal thoughts.”
Any happy bridal thoughts made relaxing impossible this close to The Big Day.
The front door opened as I rounded the corner, and Neely bustled in cradling a black silk garment bag that dragged four or five feet behind him. Cruz followed, wheeling a steamer his husband had convinced me to buy, not just for the wedding, but all the events that came after.
Ugh.
“Hey, gorgeous.” He shook the bag at me. “Guess what’s in here?”
“My dress?”
“You said that with as much enthusiasm as Cruz shows dinner theater.”
“Oh. My. Goddess.” I gasped and fluttered my free hand at my throat. “Is that my dress?”
“Ingrate,” he huffed. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”
“I gave you a black card for fashion emergencies, and I let you pretend I’m a life-size Barbie doll?”
“All right, sassafras.” He looked me up and down. “Keep up the attitude, and see where it gets you.”
Living up to my maturity level, I stuck my tongue out at him. Keet, who had been known to join in, drooped on my shoulder, too full to squeeze out a single boop.
Neely shot out his arm, and for a split second I was convinced he was making a grab for my tongue, but he pinched my side instead. He got maybe a quarter inch of skin that desperately wanted to be a love handle when it grew up. “How do you keep losing weight the way you eat?”
Explaining to him how Linus and I were experimenting with how much of his blood was required to keep me running optimally was personal. The potentate gig had thrown me all out of whack. The bond I shared with the city burned more than psychic energy, but we hadn’t figured out the right balance yet. Good thing Linus was a pro at blending strawberry smoothies heavy on the Vitamin L.
“I’ll eat an extra churro before, during, and after each meal until The Big Day.” I crossed my heart with a fingertip then secured a dozing Keetatron in his cage. “Promise.”
“See that you do.” He pursed his lips. “I don’t want to call Javier back for another round of alterations.”
Javier was a fantastic tailor. He was also a fangtastic tailor. Newly turned, he had trouble when he pricked me and my retinue while pinning us. He kept popping dental erections, which made everyone uncomfortable no matter how apologetic Javier was after slapping a hand over his mouth.
“Lethe and I had the final, final cake tasting today, and we’re doing the final, final, final tasting for the menu in two days.”
Seven days until Linus Lawson became Linus Woolworth.
Seven teeny, tiny days, and my happily-ever-after could begin.
I could hardly wait.
“I know that look.” Neely spoke to me but fluttered his lashes at Cruz. “Daydreaming about your man?”
Slow heat spread in a prickling wash across my cheeks. “No?”
“What would you say if I told you that your dress wasn’t the only thing the tailor had waiting for me?” A mischievous smile crinkled his eyes. “What if I told you I sent Linus upstairs not five minutes ago with his tux?”
Squirming in place, I fought against the temptation. “Isn’t it bad luck for the bride to see the groom before the wedding?”