C.A.K.E novel Chapter 16

“What are we going to do?” Arden asks.

Eli rests his hands on the edge of the vanity, hanging his head over the sink. He curls his fingers into fists so tight, that his knuckles begin to glow a pearly white.

He shakes his head, then slams his fists against the quartz vanity. Arden flinches at the sound of his hands hitting the slab of stone. Eli lifts his head and stares at the mirror. His eyes are hooded marbles of ice.

Arden places her hand on Elliott's shoulder, keeping her focus on the reflection of the distant man in the mirror. He doesn't acknowledge her touch. The growing tension in his jaw drains the anger from her, making room for another emotion.

“Eli?”

Elliott rushes past her, out the bathroom. He grabs his keys and heads for the front door.

Arden follows him, pleading for him to talk to her. Still no answer. He steps onto the elevator with a scowl painted on his comforting features.

“Elliott, wait.” She reaches for his hand. But he slips out her grip. So she steps onto the elevator with him.

She asks where he's going. Again, he stares straight ahead. He's moving like a robot on autopilot. A shutdown like this doesn't happen often. But when it does, he's colder than an Alaskan winter. Jamming the stop button with her index finger, she brings the elevator to a halt.

“I understand that you're upset.” Arden steps in front of him and lifts his chin. “But you'd better talk to me.”

“You know where I'm going, Arden.” He places his hands at her waist and moves her aside. Then he starts the elevator on its way again.

She does know where he's going. But just as he reminded her not too long ago, that woman isn't worth the jail time.

“I want to throttle her just as much as you do. But we're not going to be much help to Rowan and Teagan if we're both behind bars.”

Elliott stares back at her like he's trying to process what she just said. The elevator stops on the ground floor. Its doors open, revealing the underground parking garage that's accessible only to residents. He pauses on the threshold, leaning his back against the pocket where the elevator doors disappeared.

“You're right.” He nods at her. “You should go back upstairs.”

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and starts a very determined walk toward his car. Arden chases after him. Her eyes travel down to his bare feet. Their reddened state, and his apparent oblivion to the cold concrete floor, quickens her own feet.

“Elliott,” she screams after him. Her voice hits the bare concrete walls, before bouncing back to her ears.

He keeps walking, even seeming to speed up into more of a trot. He unlocks his sedan and reaches for the door handle. Arden places herself between him and the car, pushing the driver's side door closed again with her back.

A silent standoff ensues. His eyes stare down into hers, neither breaking the trance. Another minute or so passes, before he attempts to move her aside. He places a hand on her waist, exerting a gentle pressure against her weight. She doesn't budge.

He sighs and scratches at the forming stubble along his jawline.

“Arden, please. Get out of my way.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I'm not going to let you do something stupid.”

“She has been using drugs around our kids. Letting that anorexic piece of shit model shoot up in the same house where our kids sleep.” His voice drops to a darker tone, one that Ardi doesn't recognize. “Nothing is more stupid than that.”

She takes a breath. “No disagreement here.”

“Then, please . . . move,” he says through gritted teeth. Tears pool on the brims of his eyes, making them glisten like a moonlit lake.

“No, Elliott.”

Arden places a hand on either side of his face. The tears in his eyes win the battle against the rims of his eyes. Hot, salty rivers begin to paint his face, marking her hands as well. She uses her thumbs to wipe away his heated tears.

Arden's mobile begins to ring, making them both flinch. The device announces her brother's name, then begins playing the Ghostbusters theme song. She lets it ring, ultimately sending her sibling to voicemail.

She relaxes a bit as she watches the hint of a smile spreading across Eli's lips. He folds his hands around hers.

“Does he know that's your ringtone for him?”

She shakes her head, and they both ease into a small laugh. As it fades into a shared sigh, Arden leans up and places her arms around his neck. He pulls her closer, letting his arms settle at her waist.

Arden tilts her head and kisses Elliott. The softness of her lips melds into him, imparting a calm as easy as a low country breeze. She pulls back and rests her forehead against his.

“She's not going to change us, Eli,” she whispers, staring up at him. “Ro and Tea deserve better than that.”

He nods. She feels his hand tighten into a fist against her back. As he stares off in the direction of the other parked cars that surround them, she smooths her hands down his shoulders over and over.

After a few seconds, he turns back to her. His eyes have returned to their usual vibrant blue. The tension in his muscles has relaxed. She breathes. He's back.

He hugs her close, resting his head in the crook of her neck. Then he pulls back and kisses her forehead. “Let's go.”

Eli taps the lock button on his car's key fob and intertwines his fingers with Arden's. The couple takes the elevator up to the lobby. They find Adam standing at the concierge desk about to place another call to his sister.

“You two suddenly forget how to answer your phones?” Adam asks, coming towards them.

“Sorry.” Eli glances at Arden. “We were in the middle of something.”

“Oh God, I know what that means.” Adam makes a face.

“We weren't ...” Arden tries to explain. But Adam puts his hands to his ears and begins humming. She tries to pull one of his hands away from his head. He resists, accenting his humming with defiant grunts. “Oh grow up, Adam.”

He shakes his head and starts for the door. “You two are freaks. I'll be in the car.”

She rolls her eyes at her brother's back, as he exits the building. Sometimes, it astounds her that he's the older child. No wonder her parents tried a second time.

“You sure he's older than you?”

“I'm not even sure we're related. I think he followed my mother home from the grocery store one day.”

“That must be it.” Eli chuckles and takes her hand again. The smile fades from his face, while he plays with her fingers.

“You okay?” She takes his other hand.

“Yeah.” He nods, staring down at their feet. “Think I might take the kids to see my parents for a little while this afternoon.”

“Sounds good.” She pushes a thick lock of honeyed curls away from his face. “Then maybe we could all meet at Dad's place for dinner tonight.”

“Good,” he whispers, still transfixed by the floor.

“Hey, we'll figure this out.” She lifts his head and locks eyes with him. “With your parents and my father behind us, all of Alabama will burn before Melinda gets anywhere near our children again.”

“I know.” He pulls her in close and kisses the crown of her head. “See you tonight.”

Eli agrees to meet her at the Mitchell estate with the twins and his parents. They share another quick kiss and whisper I love you, before parting ways. Arden glances over her shoulder, as she makes her way out to Adam. Elliott waves at her, before stepping onto the elevator. Sighing, she steps through the lobby's revolving door.

“Everything okay?” Adam opens the car door for her.

“It's fine. Why?”

“Well, you're sporting the I don't give a fuck hair bun. Eli looks like he could spar with Satan right about now and win.” He smirks at her. “Wanna try lying to me again, Elmer?”

She purses her lips and looks away from him. “I'll tell you in the car.”

Adam helps her into his Porsche Cayenne and jogs around to the driver's side. While he tries his best to navigate the downtown streets, she relates the night's insanity to him. He listens without much interruption, throwing in a whispered remark here and there.

“You call the police?”

“No.”

“And why not?”

“I don't want to have their mother arrested.” She stares out the window at the silent structures passing by in a blur of stone and mortar. “We'll handle this as quietly as possible.”

“Melinda doesn't deserve your discretion.”

“But Ro and Tea do. This arrangement has been hard enough on them. The last thing they need is to find a TMZ article about their absentee mother's drug abuse.” She chews the inside of her cheek, then shakes her head. “I will not make them a headline.”

Adam sighs and then brings the car to a stop behind Arden's Audi S7.

“I swear, little sis. You some kind of saint. Any other woman would have taken a razor blade to Melinda's crazy ass a long time ago.”

“Trust me.” She scoffs. “I've murdered her in my dreams plenty of times.”

He laughs and reaches over her to grab the flashlight and his semi-automatic handgun from the glovebox. “Stay in the car, killer.”

Arden does as she's told, watching as her brother checks the front and back seats of the sedan. He starts the vehicle's engine and even goes so far as to survey the trunk as well. Finding no apparent threats, he signals to her.

She steps down from his car and makes her way over to where he's standing holding open the door of the sedan for her. Arden gives him a hug, and a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you.”

“It's nothing. You know that.”

Adam hangs onto her even tighter and plants a kiss on her cheek as well. Then he takes one more look in the backseat before he lets her settle into the car.

She watches him get back into the truck in her side-view mirror. She waits for Adam to flash his headlights, then they both pull away from the curb. They wave to each other at a stoplight, going their separate ways. Adam heads for his Vestavia Hills home, while Arden makes the short jump to Homewood.

When Arden reaches the parking lot of SoHo Sugar, the limited space at the back of the building is deserted. Joe and Nadia are both late ...again. She sighs and parks the car in her designated space in the far corner of the lot. Instead of going inside to begin her usual hectic day, she sits frozen in her seat. Her mind has other plans.

She glances at the time illuminated on the center console. It's 4:30 in the morning. Her father is often up by five every day. Though he's essentially retired, he wakes every morning to greet the sun like he has a regular nine to five.

The most Warren sees of the inside of an office is the monthly board meeting at the phone company. He should be out of bed and making his customary cup of coffee in less than thirty minutes. The trip from the bakery to the Mitchell estate should take about that long, maybe a little less at this time of the morning.

Exiting the parking lot, she heads for the highway. She takes 65 South toward Montgomery, keeping careful watch of her speedometer. Forty miles later, she's coasting up the tree-lined drive of her childhood home.

One of the house managers, Ivana, appears in the doorway of the three-story house. Before Arden can reach for the handle, Ivana opens the driver's door and extends a hand to her.

Accustomed to her father's routine, the woman is already dressed in one of her smart sweater sets and starched slacks. Her dark hair is in the same effortless fishtail braid she's been wearing for years, a style that complements her rounded face.

“What are you doing here so early? ...Is something wrong?” The older woman's brow wrinkles.

Arden assures her everything's okay.

Ivana eyeballs her, cocking her head to one side. She's been with the family since Arden was six years old. So she can tell when one of the Mitchell children is telling a half-truth.

“I'm fine. Everyone is fine. I promise.” Arden squeezes Ivana's hands. “I just wanted to talk to Daddy.”

“And this couldn't wait until the sun was fully awake?” The strength of her Russian accent lingers in her speech.

It's most apparent when she's excited or angry. When they were younger, Adam and Arden would often play pranks on her just so she would yell at them in Russian. Hearing the familiar accent now makes her smile.

“I guess not.”

“Okay, don't tell me.” Ivana sighs. “Your father's in his study.”

She gives Ivana a quick kiss on the cheek and jogs up the porch steps into the house. She makes her way to her father's study at the back of the house.

“Hi, tater tot.” A booming voice greets Arden, as she steps into the large oak-paneled room.

Warren Mitchell looks up from his newspaper and beams at his little girl. Grinning just as hard as he is, she walks over to his desk. He stands and pulls her into a hug. She allows herself to be engulfed by his competent arms, nestling her head against his chest. He holds onto her, rocking her side to side in an easy circle.

“Good morning, Daddy,” she says, her voice muffled by his starched button-down shirt.

He holds her at arm's length. “You came to have breakfast with your old man?”

“I need some advice.”

“About Melinda?”

“How did you...?”

“Adam called me.”

“I should have known.”

“Never mind your brother.” Warren leads her over to the quilted leather sofa and sits down with her. “What's your head telling you to do?”

“Convince Eli to file for sole custody of the kids.”

“And I wouldn't disagree with you if Ro and Tea were younger. But a legal fight with Melinda could last for years.”

Arden takes a deep breath. “So what do we do?”

“Rowan and Teagan could have themselves emancipated.” Warren continues his point before Arden has a chance to become alarmed. “That way no one, namely Melinda, has a say in where they choose to live.”

“That would make them adults in the eyes of the law.” Ardi looks down at her hands. “They wouldn't be my babies anymore.”

“In another year, they won't be babies either way. Children have to grow up. Doesn't mean we have to stop being their parents.” He kisses her hair. “Isn't that right, tater tot?”

Arden laughs and rests her head on his shoulder. “Where did you even come up with that nickname?”

“Took one look at you when you were born, and the name just came to me. Ever since then, you've been my little tater tot.” He scratches his head and smirks. “I wish there was some grand story behind it. But I'm a simple man, sweetheart.”

“That's good enough for me.” She smiles at him.

The two are silent for a few moments before that gnawing seed of doubt in Arden's gut voices itself again. “Do you think this whole thing will work?”

“It will. I'll make sure of it.” He gives her shoulder a gentle rub. “Harrison will have the papers drawn up by the end of business today. Don't worry about it.”

Willing to breathe a little easier for the moment, she lets him change the subject. They spend another hour or so discussing simpler matters, like her Aunt Hillary's annual gem social.

Arden dreads going every year. But not going would mean snubbing one of the most powerful women in Birmingham. Not to mention, making things more difficult at home for her Uncle Sebastian. Hillary is impossible enough without feeling slighted. So Arden will suck it up for the sake of her mother's brother, and the sake of anyone else who has to deal with that woman.

Besides it also means she'll have a chance to catch up with her cousin, Scott. Since he moved to Phoenix, life hasn't left them much opportunity to see each other. He's like the younger brother who she never wished she had. But much like with Adam, she wouldn't trade her cousin for all the diamonds and pearls in the world.

“Hillary said Scott's bringing his new fiancee, Priscilla.”

“Well God help the poor woman if she's going to have Hillary Nolan for a mother-in-law.” Arden rolls her eyes and frowns.

Warren nudges her knee, smothering a laugh. “Be nice, Ardi.”

“That was the censored version.”

He shakes his head. “You need to get to work young lady. A bakery doesn't run itself.”

Warren rises and pulls Arden to her feet. They walk arm in arm toward the front of the house. As she's stepping out the front door, Ardi tells her father she'll see him for dinner. His face seems to light up.

He kisses her forehead. “Drive safe, darling.”

“I will.” She stands on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Bye, Dad.”

Arden drives back down the manicured road, and out of the front gates. She takes advantage of the car's voice command and requests that it play an old Snoop Dogg track. Turning up the volume, she hits the interstate doing eighty.

Half an hour later, Arden is pulling up to the bakery. It's almost seven. She's lost some valuable prep time. But her mood brightens a bit when she spots her employees' vehicles. Joe and Nadia's cars are in the lot, along with a UPS truck.

Arden greets the gentleman and signs for the delivery. She unlocks the back entrance of the bakery, propping the door open for the man. As package after package is unloaded from the truck and into her office, she searches her brain's inventory for any recent business purchases she might have made. None come to mind.

She gets a look at one of the boxes and notices there isn't a return address on any of them. A few of them are even gift wrapped in dark navy paper with bows of silver ribbon. By the time the man is done bringing in boxes, every surface in her office is covered.

One of the smaller boxes catches her eye. The wrapping looks familiar. If she remembers correctly, Swarovski uses this same packaging. She opens it to find a pair of crystal earrings. A coy smile lights on her face. It gets wider with every package she opens. Something made of crystal or chocolate rests in each one.

Almost as giddy as a schoolgirl, she takes a seat at her desk. She reaches for the phone and notices that there are several messages waiting for her. Arden grabs a pen and notepad, then puts the phone on speaker.

The first message is from a bride seeking Arden's services for her wedding cake. Already inspired by the woman's theme and colors, she makes a quick sketch. She jots down the woman's information and files the drawing, before skipping to the next message.

At first, all she hears on the other end is dead air, and maybe the faint sound of someone breathing. Then a symphony of baritone sounds and syllables kisses her ears. Arden recognizes the utterance as her name being whispered by one of the sexiest voices that she's ever heard.

She rises from her chair and backs herself against the wall. It's him. The man who has invaded her subconscious, making her dreams his playground.