Angry Baker's Arc

Chapter 11 of 13

Allan picked up his tux from the rental shop on Monday morning. The black suit hung in a garment bag in the back room of the bakery, next to the storage shelf with flour and sugar. He'd checked that off the list two weeks early. Melissa had circled dress shopping on the calendar for that same weekend. They walked past the bridal shop on Tuesday afternoon after closing the bakery. Two dresses hung on racks outside the windows, white fabric with flowers stitched along the hems. Melissa slowed down but didn't stop. Allan glanced at her and kept walking. Wednesday she suggested they go for coffee instead of looking at dresses. Thursday she reorganized the pantry at home. By Friday Allan couldn't wait anymore. He asked her directly while they were cleaning the bakery counter. "Did you pick a dress yet?" Melissa looked down at the cloth in her hands. "Not yet," she said quietly. "I haven't found the right one." Allan felt his chest tighten. His hands stopped moving. The cloth he was holding went still against the counter. "You haven't found one?" he said. His voice came out louder than he meant it to. "The wedding is in nine days. I got my tux two weeks ago. You said you'd have it done by now." Melissa stepped back. "I know," she said. "I just—none of them feel right." Allan dropped the cloth on the counter. "None of them feel right? There are fifty dresses in that shop. You've walked past it every day this week and you haven't even gone inside." His hands were shaking now. "I've done everything. The cake, the menu, the license, the sign. I'm ready. And you can't even pick a dress." Melissa's face went pale. She set down her cloth and walked to the back room without saying anything. Allan heard the door close. He stood at the counter with his hands flat against the surface, trying to breathe. The anger wasn't at her. It was never at her. It was at himself for exploding, for freezing, for turning something small into something that proved he couldn't handle anything without breaking it. He walked to the back room and opened the door. Melissa was sitting on the flour sacks with her arms crossed. "I'm sorry," he said. She looked up at him. "I know you are," she said. "But you can't keep doing this every time something doesn't go the way you planned." Allan nodded slowly. He sat down next to her on the sacks. "What if we go together tomorrow?" he said. "To the shop. We'll find something that works." Melissa was quiet for a moment. Then she nodded. "Okay," she said. "Tomorrow."