A New Hope

5. Take a Hint (Shiro)

Shiro

When I arrive at the fancy patisserie Curtis chose for the wedding, he's already there, chatting with the owner over a table littered with samples of cake in different hues of yellow. It's a cute little place, with antique white chairs and checkered pink tablecloths. The least threatening cake shop on Earth, and yet my ribs tighten again. Should I be concerned? No, that happens, right? Probably pre-wedding jitters or something.

A chime announces my arrival, and Curtis raises his head, smiling widely at me. As usual, a terrible hope winds through me. Hope that this time, things will be different, that this time, the strings in my heart that have been silent for five years will regrow and start thrumming with affection. Once again, they remain silent, the hollow space in my ribcage filled with nothing but tatters of memories.

"Hey, baby." Curtis rises from his chair to press a chaste kiss to my lips.

"Sorry I'm late," I say and sit next to him.

"The Garrison kept you late again?"

"As usual. A new day, a new stack of reports."

"I'm glad I'm just an analyst," he laughs, and my stomach squeezes again. I should feel more for my fiancé, not this dead echo of fondness.

"Hi. I'm Shiro," I say to the baker, trying to disperse the dark clouds hanging over me.

"Nataly. Ready to pick the right cake for your big day, Shiro?"

"I guess."

Curtis nudges me with his shoulder. "Don't get too excited about it, babe. Come on, you love cake."

"I'm just exhausted from work," I say, hoping the same excuse I used on Veronica will work on my fiancé, and feeling guilty about the lie when Curtis's face immediately softens.

"Okay, let's cut it short. Nataly and I did a pre-selection round, anyway. All you have to do is approve one of these." He pushes three plates with three almost identical pieces of cake on them toward me.

"What's the difference between these fifty shades of cream?"

Nataly, quietly listening to our exchange until now, explodes into a flurry of explanations about various kinds of vanilla used in each cake, praising Tahitian vanilla for its floral overtones, but I only half-listen, not really interested. Instead, I turn to Curtis.

"I thought we agreed on a chocolate cake with either raspberry or orange ganache."

"You and your chocolate," Curtis says and pecks my cheek. "But we're going to be wearing white, babe. White and chocolate spell disaster."

"I agree," Nataly says. "There's so much more to a wedding cake than just the flavor, though that's important, of course. There's also the practical element and the visual effect to consider."

"Well, a white cake will look boring next to us in white suits. How will people tell us apart?"

Nataly laughs at my remark, the sound shrill and false. Curtis's mouth pulls down in a frown.

"It will look elegant."

"Then maybe we should reconsider the suits. I'm not really fond of white. It's like getting married in my uniform."

"But you look so hot in your uniform."

Nataly's gaze darts between us so fast I worry she'll give herself a headache.

"You know what, guys? There's a batch of jelly-filled donuts I need to start working on, so I'll leave you to it. In the meantime, talk it through, sample everything, and let me know."

She departs, clearly relieved she can escape the weird tension building between us, and I wish I could join her. The fact I've always wanted to learn how to bake donuts is only a part of the reason I want to escape this cute shop with its sweet smell and oppressive air.

"You don't like any of the cakes? At least taste them."

"How about we do something different? Like a macaroon tower, in shades of red, black, and purple. Easy to serve. Plus, macaroons are delicious."

"It doesn't sound elegant, not to mention red and black aren't exactly wedding colors."

No, but they were our colors. I don't say that out loud, but I can't resist the siren call of checking my communicator one more time. Nothing. Only a steady stream of acceptance and congratulations, along with the reminder about the call with the ex-Paladins later this evening.

"Something wrong?"

"No, just checking the replies to the invitations."

"And?"

"Keith still hasn't responded," I say, regretting my words when I notice Curtis's scowl.

"Did you really expect him to? You shouldn't have invited him at all."

"He's my friend."

"A friend that cut you off for no apparent reason and didn't talk to you once in five years, after everything you did for him. Take a hint, Shiro."

"You're right. It was probably stupid."

"No 'probably' about it. I'm glad you agree, though. Now let's see if we can agree on a cake."

Dutifully, I continue with the tasting and end up picking one sample at random. It doesn't matter which. They all taste like dust.