THE WEIGHT OF LOVING YOU
“Told you. Hidden gem. No paparazzi, no gluten guilt.”
We were barely seated before the owner, a cheerful woman with curly grey hair and frosting smudged on her apron, brought out four little sample plates: red velvet, chocolate truffle, strawberry swirl, and vanilla bean with raspberry center.
“Okay,” Lucas said, grabbing a fork with childlike glee, “no judgment if I make inappropriate noises while eating.”
I laughed. “As long as you don’t cry over cake, we’re good.”
Red velvet was first. Moist, creamy, not too sweet. Then the chocolate truffle—so rich it should’ve come with a warning. Lucas groaned dramatically.
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