Chapter 24 - A Different EngagementAshley began dating again almost two years after the wedding.
His name was Malcolm Hayes.
Thirty-four.
Architect.
Divorced once.
No grand gestures.
On their fourth date he said, “I’m in about thirty thousand dollars of student-loan debt.”
Ashley stared.
Malcolm frowned.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You look happy.”
“I am.”
“About my debt?”
“About you telling me.”
He laughed.
“That is a strange standard.”
“You have no idea.”
Ashley told him the broad version of Marcus’s story on their sixth date.
Not the viral version.
The financial one.
Malcolm listened.
Then said, “That explains why you asked to see my divorce decree.”
Ashley covered her face.
“I’m sorry.”
“I thought you were intensely practical.”
“I am intensely traumatized.”
“Fair.”
He did not rush her.
He did not say, “Trust me.”
Instead he answered questions.
Sometimes he said, “I don’t know.”
Ashley discovered she loved that phrase.
A year later Malcolm proposed.
Privately.
In Ashley’s kitchen.
No photographer.
No family hiding nearby.
He opened the ring box.
Ashley stared.
Then said, “Before I answer, I need to ask you something.”
Malcolm laughed.
“Of course you do.”
“Any undisclosed businesses?”
“No.”
“Debt besides what I know?”
“No.”
“Secret apartments?”
“No.”
“Other girlfriends?”
“Very much no.”
“Any plans requiring my signature?”
He smiled.
“Only a marriage license if you say yes.”
Ashley laughed so hard she cried.
Then said yes.
When she told Evelyn, her mother hugged her and asked only one question.
“Are you happy?”
“Yes.”
No interrogation.
Progress.
Ashley told Simone by text weeks later.
I’m engaged. Before you ask, I have personally verified he is not dating his cake designer.
Simone laughed in the bakery.
She replied:
Congratulations. I am NOT making the cake.
Ashley sent:
Coward.
Simone stared at the message.
Then another arrived.
Seriously, no pressure.
That line changed everything.
No pressure.
A choice.
Simone typed:
Let me think.
Keisha looked over.
“What?”
“Ashley’s engaged.”
“Oh.”
“She wants a cake.”
Keisha froze.
“No.”
Simone laughed.
“You don’t get to decide.”
“I was there when the first one happened.”
“I know.”
“I have trauma.”
“So do I.”
“Exactly. Hire somebody else.”
Simone smiled.
“I’m thinking.”
That night she stood in her own studio after everyone left.
The sugar orchid from the first wedding sat on the shelf.
She took it down.
One chipped petal.
Faded gold center.
She remembered entering the ceremony hall.
Marcus turning.
Ashley’s face.
The cart rolling.
Her hands catching it.
For years, part of Simone’s nervous system believed wedding halls were dangerous because truth might be waiting at the altar.
But that hall had not betrayed her.
The cake had not betrayed her.
Her profession had not betrayed her.
Marcus had.
Separating those things had taken time.
She texted Ashley.
I’ll make it. One condition.
Ashley replied:
Name it.
No groom surprises. No secret vendor changes. Everything in writing.
Three dots appeared.
That sounds like standard Bennett policy now.
Simone smiled.
Then we have a deal.
Ashley called immediately.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t have to prove anything.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why?”
Simone looked around her bakery.
“Because I want the next cake I make for you to reach the reception.”
Ashley went quiet.
Then laughed through tears.
“Deal.”
The wedding would be six months later.
Same venue.
Ashley had chosen it before realizing the symbolism.
When she offered to change locations, Malcolm said, “Do you want to?”
She thought.
“No.”
“Then why move?”
Another simple question.
Another choice.
They kept the venue.
And Simone began sketching a cake.
Not white orchids.
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Not gold.
Something entirely new.
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