Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Bryson seemed unsure of himself at times, but never when he was in the kitchen. There, he was bold and confident. I loved the way his knife flew as he chopped vegetables into perfectly uniform pieces, and the way his brow creased in concentration as he adjusted spices and seasonings.
My favorite part, though, was when he scooped up a spoonful of whatever he was making and brought it to me to taste. We both knew I didn’t have any constructive feedback to give him, because everything he made was delicious. But he always brought me a sample anyway, holding one hand under it to catch any drips as he raised the spoon to my mouth.
It was surprisingly intimate. I had a little fantasy going about him feeding me an entire meal that way, but I kept that to myself.
Even though cooking was a one-man show as far as he was concerned, he had a totally different attitude when it came to our baking lessons. He claimed he was rusty because he hadn’t used these skills since culinary school, but to me he seemed like an absolute pro. He was also a kind and patient teacher, which I appreciated.
We’d started with macarons, and then we’d made them twice more that first week, in big batches and different flavors. I packed them in pretty boxes and brought Bryson with me as I delivered them to all our neighbors. I was worried about what would happen to him after our year was up and I moved out. He’d been so isolated before, but maybe things would be different if he had some friends in the neighborhood.
After the macarons, we moved on to other recipes. There was so much I wanted to learn, but I asked Bryson to stick with cookies for now. We baked enough to fill a big gift basket and delivered it to the Pink Victorian Crew on the Saturday before Christmas. It made my friends happy, and that meant everything to me.
When we got back from our visit, a padded mailing envelope had been delivered to me. I’d had our wedding pictures made into two photobooks online, one for Bryson to show his family, and one for me. Even if the marriage wasn’t real, the memories were, so I’d wanted a keepsake.
I took the envelope with me when I went upstairs to change, and I sat on my bed and carefully unpacked the books. The shot on the cover was my absolute favorite. It was the two of us doing the Dirty Dancing lift in front of the Las Vegas sign.
Inside, there were a few random photos taken around the hotel, but most were from the wedding ceremony. If I was looking at these pictures as an outsider, I’d definitely buy the story they told. We looked like two people who were deeply in love, making a commitment to each other in a beautiful setting.
I’d barely noticed the sunset because I’d been so nervous about messing up or dropping Bryson’s ring, but it was glorious in the photos. One of the rugby guys had taken a fantastic shot with us and the gazebo in silhouette, backed by a sky that looked like a pink and orange watercolor painting.
Then there were the photos of our first and only kiss. It was weird to have that documented.
I closed the book and sighed. It had been a beautiful wedding. Since it was all just an act though, the photos were definitely bittersweet.
I got up and changed out of my nice sweater, and then I took one of the photo books with me and went back downstairs. Dusty had followed Bryson when we got home, but now he joined me in the kitchen and curled up on his new dog bed. There was one in my room, but Bryson had gotten him a second one, since we spent so much time in the kitchen and the dog liked to hang out with us. I thought that was very sweet.
It was the day before Bryson’s birthday, so I turned my attention to finishing his cake. I’d baked it, stacked the five rainbow layers with lemon curd filling, and covered it in a smooth coat of frosting this morning, before we went to visit my friends. Now it was time to make it pretty.
I whipped up a batch of buttercream frosting using Bryson’s fancy mixer and tinted it pale blue with gel food coloring. After fitting a piping bag with a flat, corrugated tip, I decorated the sides of the cake in a basketweave pattern, mostly because I wanted to challenge myself. I messed up a couple of times, but it was a pretty forgiving medium. All I had to do was scrape it off and try again.
Next, I tinted the remaining frosting a nice shade of sky blue and piped a scalloped border around the cake’s top and bottom edges. Then I stuck a cover over it and returned it to the fridge. The finishing touch would be some gum paste figures I’d worked on over the last week, every night after Bryson went to bed. They were hidden away, and I was going to put them on right before I gave him the cake.