Mistakes Were Made

Gael looked at Ethan again. He was talking to Lisa, sipping on his glass, and not paying Gael any attention.

“When will you do your speech?” Jamie bumped his knee underneath the table.

“Oh, I’m not speaking.”

“You’re not?” Jamie’s eyes were too wide. “She’s your daughter.”

“Yes, but one father of the bride has spoken already.”

Jamie only shook his head. The sounds grew in volume and the staff cleared the table. David’s father gave a short speech, and Gael was ashamed to admit he’d already forgotten his name despite Ethan having said it. It continued the same way for some time, people toasted, chattered, laughed, and had more drinks, then it was time for the cake.

The staff rolled it in, and there was a hush in the room. Hazel stood and held her hand out for David. Together they walked over to the cake.

“Oh my God.” Jamie strained to see better. “It’s five tiers.”

Gael had working eyes of his own. The color of the cake matched Hazel’s dress perfectly. Along the sides, there were flowers, the same kind of flowers, again in a perfect color match, to the bouquet, and there were pearls the same size and color as those Hazel had in her hair. Gael would bet they were edible.

“How many flowers, Daddy?” Hazel looked at Ethan who hadn’t moved out of his seat. While everyone else strained to see better, he all but slouched where he was seated.

“Twenty-four roses, and twenty-six leaves, one for each year the two of you have been alive.”

Twenty-four roses for Hazel’s twenty-four years, and Gael guessed it meant David was twenty-six. They were both so young. Their whole lives were ahead of them.

“I don’t want to cut it.” Hazel stood with a knife in her hand, a woman from the staff by her side.

“No pressure, love. I’m sure people are still full from the meal.” Ethan winked at her, and she rolled her eyes.

Then she cut a piece of the top tier and huffed. “Moist chocolate cake.”

Ethan dipped his head. “It’s your day. It has to have moist chocolate cake.”

Hazel nodded, placed the cake on a plate, handed David a spoon, and took one for herself. The crowd cheered, and Gale blew out a breath of relief when they both took a spoonful and ate themselves, not feeding each other or smashing cake in their faces or anything along those lines.

Then the staff took over and dismantled the cake, which was a shame, and cut pieces and placed them on plates.

Ethan must have spent hours, many, many hours on making the cake, and they cut it apart in a few minutes. People were happy, though. There was a new energy in the room, everyone got up to grab a plate, and coffee was served. Jamie was practically bouncing as he ate the first piece.

“Fucking amazing. I’ll marry him if you don’t want him.”

“You will not.” Gael glared at him.

“You still want him then?”

Doing his best to ignore Jamie, he smiled at Lisa as she passed the table. Then a warm hand landed on his shoulder for the third time that day, and his entire body flushed with warmth. “I’m sorry if my speech made you uncomfortable. Perhaps I should’ve checked with you before so you were okay with being mentioned.”

Ethan leaned closer, and Gael inhaled, catching the scent that had always been home to him. He’d never realized how much he’d missed it until it was gone. The scent alone could make his muscles unclench and cure a building headache in a matter of minutes.

“No, you didn’t make me uncomfortable.”

“Good.” He squeezed Gael’s shoulder, and he clamped his lips shut so as not to moan. “It would’ve been weird to talk about her childhood and not mention you. You were my universe, both of you.” He squeezed Gael’s shoulder again, and then he was gone, heading toward the cake.

Jamie stared at him. “You’re such an idiot, Gael.”

Gael huffed and ate a bit of cake. Jamie shook his head.

“What’s done is done.”

“If someone called me their universe, I’d take it as a sign things weren’t over, no matter how much I’d fucked up.”

“He said were. I was his universe.” And fuck if he hadn’t been. There was no one to blame but him for their failed marriage. Now in retrospect, he didn’t know why he’d believed ending it had been a good idea.