The last time I saw Tom, he was at my bakery and he was swooning over cake.  This is honestly not all that rare of a thing.  Keegan was with him, and they were nearly forty five minutes late.  If it had been anyone else, I would have cancelled the appointment.  Seriously, who is that late?  But I knew they weren't late because of Tom.  In fact, I bet Alice—who helps me out at Tiny Baker doing errands, and basically being like a much more responsible, female version of Greg the Toilet Boy, but in LA not Maryland—twenty bucks that they were late because Keegan was working through some kind of cleanse or had to finish up a yogalates class.  That's yoga and pilates combined, for those who's fitness vocabulary is not as vast and expansive as mine recently has become.  Tom was constantly telling me about new classes Keegan was instructing.  Keegan was constantly begging me to come try them out.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry." I could somehow hear him apologizing before he even made it through the front door.  Keegan came in first, waiting for Tom to open the heavy glass door for her.

"Hi!" She exclaimed at us.  I was sitting at one of the two tops, working on an order.  Alice was behind the counter, putting out freshly baked pastries.  Alice waved but didn't say anything.

"Hi, I'm so sorry." Tom walked in behind Keegan, looking distraught.  He saw Alice and waved at her. "Alice, darling, you look lovely." He greeted her and this made Alice blush a bit. He looked at me next and I just raised an eyebrow at him.  The flattery only works on me on very rare occasions.

"Good thing I'm not running a business or anything, with appointments and scheduling and all that." I said.  I had been annoyed, but not that annoyed.  He'd been texting me the whole time.

Five more minutes. I'm sorry. x

Just a few more.  So sorry. xx

She's a mess. Her class ran late.  Be there soon. Sorry! x

Fitness class. Yogalates. Same difference.  Alice had handed over a crumpled twenty dollar bill after I showed her the text.

"Charlie. I'm so sorry, babe.  Yogalates was running late." I looked over at Alice who was staring at Keegan with a very strange look on her face.  It nearly made me burst into snorts of laughter.  She looked at me then, her blue eyes wide.  I shot her a 'told you so' look, and she rolled her eyes.  We both hold back giggles.

 Keegan kept talking.  "We got into some really deep postures and I couldn't just run out." Keegan whipped off her huge, dark sunglasses and put them on the top of her head.  They nestled perfectly amongst her gorgeous, sleek blond hair.

"It's fine. Tom's been texting." I said, nodding toward Tom who had already locked eyes with some Black Forest cake in the bakery case.

"Can we still do the tasting?" Keegan asked.  She crossed her arm over her chest.  I looked up from the order I'd been working on and nodded.  I got a good look at her for the first time since she'd walked in.  Classic Keegan.  Her sleek blond hair was cut in a blunt bob.  She was wearing a dress that would have looked like a paper bag on me, but on her she looked elegant and effortless.  It was short, reaching barely past her thighs, and showed off her long legs.  She was gorgeous. 

"Of course.  I have everything ready in the back." I stood up, and held a hand out, ushering them into the back room.  Alice immediately talked to Keegan, asking her about her classes and where she got her skirt.  It made me smile, and now I knew why I pay her the big bucks.  Or at least the competitively comparable bucks.  Alice is brilliant with the customers, and especially at keeping Keegan entertained. 

"I'm so sorry we're late. I know that gets on you." Tom was by my side, and had a hand at the small of my back.  I gave him some serious side eye and then sighed.  Tom himself is never late.  Tom and Keegan together are always late.

"You're really going to love the devil's food with the raspberry buttercream." I said, reaching over and putting my arm around his back.  He was wearing what I fondly referred to as his straight guy uniform.  Button up dress shirt, usually white or light blue for him, dark trousers, nice shoes.  Pretty standard stuff, but on him it fit quite nicely.  He had that lean, muscular body that made you think of hot summer days and lazy Sunday afternoons and midnight breakfast after a good tumble—but I digress.

"You're fantastic, Charlie." He said simply, and I know he means it.  He thinks I'm fantastic.  The feeling is mutual and I give him a little squeeze before I direct him into a small room off the main kitchen.  It's where I always do my cake tastings.

We went through the motions of trying all the cake.  I explained what each flavor was, and Tom nodded and looked interested and Keegan tried to do the same, but she's mostly checking her phone.  Sometimes I wonder why they are together.  Actually, I always wonder why they are together.  But I sort of figure it must be great sex.  Because why else?  They look gorgeous together but they are exact opposites.  Tom is big hearted and funny and kind and disgustingly smart.  Keegan is sweet but she's a bit materialistic and short tempered, though she has a good sense of humor, and mile long legs, that's about it. 

The kicker is that it's my fault they're together.  Totally my fault.  Keegan is a yoga instructor.  And at one time, she was my yoga instructor.  When I first met Tom, I'd just started taking her class.  I wanted to be centered and peaceful, and yoga seemed like the best bet.  I suppose one good trait about Keegan- she really is a fantastic instructor.  I haven't bent like that in years.  So I invited my cute new friend Tom to this class, and it was super exhilarating and fun and then Keegan hit on Tom, and I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach while trying to do a downward facing whatever.

It wasn't that I was that interested in Tom.  Not like that.  I'll clarify when I say this was almost five years ago.  Tom was much blonder, curlier and a bit less pulled together.  Still, he'd been appealing and my first friend in a new city.  I hadn't made up my mind if he was on the level of just a friend with benefits, or a buddy 'ol pal.  At the time, I was in no place to get into a relationship.  My head wasn't even in that space.  There was just something exhilarating about being near him, something that could really make you feel alive and happy.  I had been worried that once he started dating Keegan, he'd lose that.  Or I'd lose him as a friend.  But, I underestimated him.  He stayed the same.  Exuberant, friendly, way too excited about life.  And we'd just become closer.

So they've been together ever since then.  They went on one date, Tom called me the next day and said he'd marry her some day.  And now they were getting married in a little over a month.  And I'm making their cake.  When that man says he wants something, he does whatever he can to get it.  He's almost always successful. 

 **** 

After Tom ate a lot of cake, including Keegan's share since she can't or won't eat any of it, Keegan went back to her yoga studio and Tom suggested we get dinner since apparently he hadn't eaten enough.  I'm amazed that Tom can stay so fit, eating the way he does.  It may be because he's so tall, and I know he runs every day.  He has the kind of body that is that perfect mix of strength and muscle.  It's nothing showy.  He's not pumping iron at the gym.  But you feel sort of safe, and comfortable around him knowing if something heavy fell on you, he'd probably be able to lift it off with a few manly grunts.

They had chosen cake flavors, and icing, and then Keegan had asked for about a million dietary modifications so that I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to figure out how to make a wedding cake out of cardboard and quinoa.  Is cardboard a carb?

I asked him what he wanted for dinner, though I already knew he'd say something along the lines of steak and pudding.  More sweets.  We settled on BOA in Santa Monica.  We hopped into my car and Tom called ahead to get us a table.  It was sort of early when we got there, like Early Bird Special early, so the restaurant wasn't that busy and it was pretty private for the moment.  We are sat and we order our food within moments of arriving.  Tom and I don't mess around when it comes to eating.  Something we have in common.

"Can you get a better steak? I don't think so. I don't even like steak." I said, groaning softly as I ate.  Tom grinned at me and then got to work on his own plate.  He'd ordered these delicious buttery rolls, and some sort of seafood appetizer as well, but we'd cleaned those up quickly.  It was only half past four and we'd also knocked into a bottle of wine.

"Keegan wants me to be a vegetarian with her." He said, not looking at me, and then put a piece of what I can only imagine to be a vegetarian's worst nightmare in his mouth.

"Are blow jobs vegetarian? Does she do that for you or is it against the rules?" I asked, and am immediately rewarded with a spectacularly angry and shocked look from Tom.  He was laughing though after a second.  I know him too well.  He acts so polite and proper, but he's always down for a good laugh.  Especially if it's a bit dirty.

"Charles." He warned.  He pulled at his shirt collar. I'd made him blush, and it was fantastic.

"Valid question, Harrison." I said, using his last name.  "But I don't actually want to know that answer, please."  I grinned at him and kept eating.

"How's Shaun?" He asked, changing the subject.  I made a face and then took a deep breath.  Shaun's a guy I'd been casually seeing. Emphasis on the casual.  I had met him through Alice, who had gone to school with him.  He was nice and pleasant and sometimes made funny jokes.  But that was about it.

"Shaun is great.  Shaun's amazing.  I'm totally and completely...what is it?...head over tits for Shaun." I said, stabbing a piece of meat.  Tom laughed loudly.

"Arse over tits." He corrected me and I nod.  "And you are not. You're such a liar.  So you've finished with him then?" Tom looked at me with his intense blue eyes, and I falter for just a second.  Shaun had brown eyes. 

"Yeah. 'ol love 'em and leave 'em Charlie." I took a sip of wine.  I can't really tell the difference between good wine and bad wine, but Tom has great taste and that wine tasted perfect.  I took another sip and avoided his eyes.

"Did you love him? And then leave him?" Tom sat back in his chair and gave me his best "disapproving father" stare.  I frowned and shrugged.

"Maybe. Just once. It was a week and a half ago, and we were drunk—"

"Sounds romantic." He cut in.

"Not everyone is a Disney Prince." I shot back with a raised eyebrow and Tom looked incredibly displeased.  I knew he was only looking out for me, but it could be a bit annoying.

"You don't think you deserve a Disney Prince?" He returned. 

"Oh sure.  But maybe I don't want one." I sighed. The rest of our dinner continued in this fashion.  We eased up a bit on the joking about halfway through the steaks, and by dessert Tom was telling me about the film he was working on, and how busy he had been.  This is all common conversation to us.  He told me how busy he is, and how he never gets to see Keegan, and I told him how busy I am and asked him why Keegan wasn't at dinner with us at that very moment.  He never really had a good answer.

****

The cake tasting was about three weeks ago.  And as I sit down on the plane to Baltimore, feeling a bit claustrophobic and also thankful that the seat next to me is empty, I realize I don't know when I will see Tom next.  It makes me sad.  I don't have a huge social circle, having always been a bit of an introvert.  It's mostly him, and the people I work with which currently include Alice and my other pastry chef Peter in LA, and Susan and Mandy in Maryland.  Greg and Krissy are out.  Most definitely.  Tom and I often go weeks without seeing each other, but it has been a particularly long stretch. 

I am already in a bad mood, seeing that I barely made it onto this flight after a hectic afternoon.  Alice was a godsend, in that she said she would be able to cover the shop for the next few weeks.  We aren't super busy.  Our storefront in LA is tiny, and is mostly just there so people can come in for tastings.  The bulk of our business is made through events, parties and weddings.  But it can still be a lot to handle.  Thankfully, our May wedding rush is over, and both Alice and Peter have said they can cover whatever happens while I am away. 

Still, despite my lovely, competent employee's kind generosity, my mood turns perfectly sour.  The only thing keeping me from tearing off my clothes and running naked through the aisles from all the anxious energy is the fact that the seat next to me is empty.  The last thing I need is some sweaty mouth breather or an eternally chatty TMI grandma type sitting next to me.  Today is not the day. 

I hold my breath as the plane continues to board, and then slowly begin breathing normally once they close the doors.  The plane is half empty.  Or maybe it is half full.  Either way, I guess I am not the only person that thinks the idea of going to Maryland sounds less than tempting.

At this point, I buckle myself in and wait.  Shouldn't we be taking off?  I don't fly very often, so it adds a bit to my anxiety.  The last time I flew it was with Tom about two years ago.  He had convinced me to go to Cabo San Lucas with him and Keegan.  Keegan was already there to film a yoga video or something, so the two of us had goofed off for a long weekend.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. We're delayed at the moment and will be taking off in about twenty minutes." A disembodied voice came over the PA system and I take a deep breath.  I take out my phone and see that I have a text.  Speak of the devil.

Did you catch your flight? Tom asks.

Waiting to take off. I think they are building the plane as we speak. I respond.

Fantastic. Is his short, rather pointless reply.  I check my safety belt for the twelfth time and wonder if it's too early to start drinking.  A second later, my phone vibrates with another text.

Have you ever been in love, Charlie? He asks. I stare at the words for a minute.  Maybe I'm not the only one considering drinking at noon.

Are you drunk? I respond.

I'm being serious. I can almost see his furrowed brow, and that disapproving way he looks at me when I'm giving him too much sass.  I tilt my head back, pressing it against the foamy head rest.

Once. And a close twice with Shaun, the Disney Prince.  How about you? ;-)  I add the obnoxious winky face emoticon so he knows I'm joking with him.  He seemed so down on the phone earlier, that I am still a little worried about him.  I don't get a response for a least a minute, and I keep checking my phone. 

I think so.

I frown and blink and then do some more frowning.  My mouth feels a little dry and I barely notice that the disembodied voice is coming back over the intercom, alerting us to our take off, and that we need to turn our electronics off.

Not the answer I was expecting, TW. I use his initials, which is really the only form of nickname I have for him.  I wonder if I'm saying the right thing.  Something is definitely going on.  I return to my message and finish it quickly.

I'm sorry, I have to go. My plane is about to take off.  Can we talk about this later? I can call you tonight.  I ask.

The plane starts rumbling, and I can see the flight attendant making his way down the aisle, checking to make sure everything is ready for departure.  I check my phone.  And check again. I keep hitting the side button on and off, waiting for the alert.  Nothing.  Come on, Tom.

I don't get a response in time, and I have to turn off my phone before it turns into some sort of awkward Alec Baldwin situation.  It will be about six hours until I can check my phone again.  I mentally add Tom to my list of things I am worried about.  Tom. Tiny Baker. In that order.