Ivory Kisses✔️

1. Satay Chicken and a Special Guest

I hated weddings; at least the ones I catered at.

I was almost thirty, and my focus had solely been on my business catering weddings; From the decorations to the third tier on their extravagant cake, to the servers who delivered each slice, I got you.

I couldn't decide which specialty I wanted to do, so I said fuck it and did them all.

My company was young and had only been around for two years, yet every wedding I have delivered to, and I always delivered, had caused my anxiety about marriage, and if it ever were in the cards for me.

Sure, I didn't want to marry some dude for the sake of it. I wanted sparks flying, toes curling, leg lifting, and heart-thumping love.

But that didn't exist. At least not in my world.

The closest I got to marry someone was when the father of one of the brides tried to feel me up at his daughter's wedding. I mean, don't get me wrong, the man was sexy, but so was his wife. Or should I say ex-wife, now?

Life for me was spending most of my time at the bakery, stuffing custard into puff pastry and decorating the mountain of desserts people begged for at weddings. The rest of the time I had drowned myself in paperwork and plonked my not so small ass on the couch in my apartment, watching---no, bawling my eyes out as I watched Hallmark movies at Christmas.

Despite hating weddings, I adored them at Christmas, which was my favorite time of the year. From the snow crunching beneath my feet to the icy chill in the air and the warm fireplace, from the scent of freshly baked Christmas cake to the enormous Christmas tree adorned with glittering ornaments and glowing fairy lights draped around it; I just wished I had someone to share it with.

It wasn't to say that I was absolutely miserable. No, fuck no! I've had my moments of pleasure, most of the time, with my own fingers. The last time anyone else went anywhere near my naked form was... wait, there was that dude three months ago who said he was going to call, but never did. Always the fucking case. Cue the eye rolls, everyone.

"There's a tray missing."

I spun around and spoke to Ellen, one of my employees, who pulled me from my mundane thoughts. "What do you mean missing?"

"I mean it was there and now it's not."

"Which tray?" She stretched her lips, and I immediately knew. "Wait. Not the..."

Ellen immediately nodded. "Yes, that one."

Fuck!

"The bride and groom had requested extra of that dish. Go, find it!"

The original company they hired had fallen through. Something about the business shutting down for health code violations. They contacted me at the last minute, and of course, me being the people pleaser I am; I said yes. It was the first time I was going to meet the couple face to face.

I gestured with my hands for her to leave while I focused on transferring the cake inside. I was told the couple had been together for three years before he proposed.

Even though there was a chill in the air, sweat dripped profusely from my forehead and this only happened during stressful moments. I usually worked well under pressure, but having an entire tray of food go missing was not ideal, especially when they were the extra meals ordered by the bride and groom.

I kept smiling at the other guests as the wait-staff offered the canapés. I knew by the reception house that the couple who married were wealthy. It was probably the nicest venue I had the privilege of attending.

The guests were shielded from the elements beneath the wooden stained structure, yet could still gaze out the glass windows and admire the flurry of snow drifting across by the winter breeze, covering the grounds with ice-white dust. Chandeliers, which were hung by the breathtakingly high ceilings, brightened the space. Dry branches with dangling bulbs gave the ambiance a warm and rustic feel. White roses were beautifully presented on each table, brightened by tealight candles placed evenly in between the clear wine and champagne glasses.