22
Dessert
“The cake looks too beautiful to eat,” I said to Jamie, leaning my head on his shoulder.
Jamie’s father had decorated the six-tier silver cake with a spray-painted flame pattern. Although I’d been invited to choose the interior flavors, the presentation had been a surprise. The style seemed to honor of my father’s unique sense of style while also paying tribute to Jamie’s biker-rocker aesthetic. Who am I kidding? The cake was also completely my style.
“My dad really went above and beyond,” Jamie replied through a mouthful of rainbow pasta. The meal portion of the reception was ending. After cutting the cake, guests would be free to drink and dance.
I knew he was right, but something was missing. “Where’s Prayikina?”
Jamie looked around and shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe sh
