I round the final curve before I reach the long stretch before the boardwalk ends. I glance down at my watch to check my time. On my last mile, I push my legs forward to shave off a few extra seconds. As I approach the end of the boardwalk that stops before the lift bridge and the canal, I slow my pace to a brisk walk. My chest heaves as I catch my breath. The aroma of sugar rolled deep fried dough from Donut Dan’s food truck swirls through the air as a warm breeze circles around me. My belly rumbles from the sweet smell. Needing a distraction from my stomach wanting to eat itself, I tilt my head toward the sun. I close my eyes and soak up the warmth. Thoughts of the other night with Van flit through my mind.

  A hand grips my bicep. I whirl around and throw my hands up as if I’m about to karate chop whoever’s in front of me.

  “Whoa there, Kung Fu Panda.” Krystin holds up her hands in defense. “I’ve been yelling your name for the past five minutes. Didn’t you hear me?

  I yank out my ear buds and hold them up. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you.” Or I was purposely ignoring you.

  “I never took you for a runner.” She eyes me up and down. “It’s done well for you.” Most people would take her words as a compliment, but from her, it’s anything but.

  “How are you, Krystin?” I wipe the sweat from my brow.

  She scrunches her nose in disgust before talking about her favorite subject, herself. “I’ve been great. Enjoying the married life.” She flashes me her two-carat princess cut diamond ring as if I didn’t already see it when she shoved it in my face when she asked me to bake her wedding cake. “Also, I’m sorry to hear about Della passing. That must be really hard for you. Being out of a job and all now that she’s gone. What are you going to do?” She rests her hand on my forearm and leans into my space. “You know, if you need anything like a job, I’ll talk to my dad. I’m sure he can find something for you. It would only be entry level—”

  “Thanks, but I still have a job,” I interrupt, mostly so I don’t have to listen to her talk anymore.

  She claps her hands in front of her excitedly. “Oh great! So you can make some cupcakes for a gender reveal party.”

  My face falls and I glance down to her flat stomach. The action doesn’t go unnoticed.

  “It’s not for me. Josie is expecting again. I don’t know how she does it.”

  Josie’s expecting child number two. Krystin is married. And what do I have? A guy who I occasionally sleep with. At least it’s good sex.

  She stares at me, waiting for an answer. Her impatience increases with each passing second that I don’t answer. I shake the thought from my head.

  “Uh. Yeah. Sure. Message me with what you want and how many.”

  “You’re the best. Josie’s going to be so excited.” She rests her hands on my shoulders and leans in for a fake hug before sauntering away.

  I scrub my hands down my face. What did I agree to? And what am I going to tell Van?

  After a trip home and a shower, I arrive at the bakery by late afternoon. I send a message to Van asking him to meet me here. I run scenarios through my head on how I’m going to tell him I booked us another job, even though we’ve never discussed taking on more than the two parties that were already booked.

  Van, don’t be mad, but we have to make cupcakes for a gender reveal party. Something I want for myself but will never get. No.

  So, Van, here are my naked breasts. Also, we have to bake cupcakes for a gender reveal party. No.

  So, Van, I booked us another party. Cupcakes for a gender reveal party. Here, let me give you a blow job so you forget all about it. No.

  I pace back and forth, so stuck in my own head that I don’t hear anyone come in. A pair of hands grip my waist and I twist around with a scream.

  “Did I startle you?”

  I clutch my chest. “Yes. I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “What has you so jumpy?” He wraps his hands around mine, intertwining our fingers.

  “I did a thing today. Don’t be mad.” I wrap my other hand around our hands and clutch them to my chest.

  “It can’t be that bad. What did you do?” He bends down and places a kiss on my knuckles.

  “I booked us to make cupcakes for a gender reveal party. The good thing is we only need to bake the cupcakes and deliver them to the party. We don’t have to stick around.” I hold my breath, waiting for his reply.

  “We can do that. Why’d you think I would be mad?” His eyebrows draw together.

  I twist away from Van, our hands still linked. “I don’t know. We haven’t talked about what you wanted to do after we completed the two jobs. And then I booked us for another one.” I pause. “This woman drives me crazy. I’ve known her all my life, but she likes to rub it in my face how much better her life is. And ugh! The pity in her tone when she assumed I was jobless. I couldn’t let her win.”

  “Hey. Hey. It’s okay. Take a deep breath.” Van smooshes my cheeks between his big, firm hands, his gaze on mine. He inhales deeply through his nose and exhales through his mouth, and I mimic his actions. “We’ll give her the best damn gender reveal cupcakes any gender reveal party has ever seen. By the way, what’s a gender reveal party?”

  I bark out a laugh. Only Van would know how to make me laugh at a time like this.

  “No, I’m serious. I’ve never heard of this.”

  “It’s when a couple has a party to reveal the gender of their unborn child to all their friends and family.”

  He blinks once. Twice. “And people have a party for this?”

  “Some people do.” I shrug a shoulder.

  “Would you want a party like that?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll need to get to that point first before I decide.”

  Van nods his head in understanding. “Okay. So, what are we making?”

  “We’ll be making a lemon cake filled with blue sprinkles and a duo of pink and blue frosting.” I pull out my tablet from my bag and pull up a picture and pass it to Van.

  He studies the picture for a moment. “So, I take it the blue sprinkles means it’s a boy?”

  “You got it. Also, we only have three days to make one hundred cupcakes.” I raise my eyebrows and flash him a tight smile.

  He stares down at the picture and back at me. “Uh… is that even possible?”

  “If we get started right now.”

  Van glances back at the tablet. “But the most important question is, who invites a hundred people to a baby party?”

  “Gender reveal party. And if you knew this girl, you wouldn’t be surprised.” I pull up the recipe to write down all the ingredients we’ll need.

  “I don’t even know a hundred people. Let alone know them well enough to invite them to a party. Now that I think about it, I know a girl who would do exactly that.” Van rubs his chin.

  I jot down the list and toss the tablet back into my bag. “We better get shopping. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”

  An hour later, we arrive back at the bakery with arms full of ingredients. We set bags on the table and organize everything.

  “This should be easy. We make all the cupcakes, frost them, put them into boxes, and wait until the day of the party to deliver them.” Van rubs his hands together like he has everything figured out.

  “Well, not really. Of course, the host wants cream cheese frosting, which is a pain when it comes to baking ahead of time because the frosting needs to be refrigerated.” I pull out the bricks of cream cheese from the bag and hold them up. “The cream cheese frosting should only be at room temperature for about two hours for food safety reasons. With these, timing is everything. We can start with baking the cakes and we can make the frosting ahead of time to keep in the fridge. The morning of the party, we’ll have to come in early, let the frosting come to room temperature for an hour, frost them, and deliver them to the party.”

  Van stares at me, jaw open and wide eyed, as if I spoke to him in a foreign language. “I trust you know what you’re doing because all of that just went over my head.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m good at telling you what to do.” I flash him a wink.

  “In the bakery. I got it covered everywhere else.”

  We spend the next several hours baking cupcakes and mixing frosting. Baking with Van is so easy, and he makes it fun. I don’t remember the last time I’ve smiled and laughed so much. It was never like this with my ex-fiancé, even after years of working side by side in culinary school and even afterward when we had plans to start our own bakery.

  I steal a glance over at Van as he scoops frosting into a bowl. He has a smear of frosting on his cheek. I take a few steps toward him and bring my hand up to brush off the frosting with my thumb. The contact startles him and his eyes meet mine.

  “You had frosting on your cheek.” My voice is low.

  “Thanks.” His voice is deep and throaty.

  Desire pools behind his dark chocolate irises as if he doesn’t kiss me this instant, he might die. Butterflies swarm in my belly. Instantly, my nipples pebble beneath my shirt and I nibble on my bottom lip. His gaze darts down and watches the movement. He drops the spatula and prowls toward me. His hand comes up to rest on my hip.

  From behind us, my phone buzzes, interrupting our moment. “I better check that.”

  Reluctantly, I break away from Van and check my phone. I quickly scan the message and type out a reply.

  I turn back around to face Van. “Parisa’s having a crisis. She’s trying to hang something up in the nursery but Seth is at The Lilith House so she needs my help.” I glance around the messy kitchen. “I hate to leave all this for you to clean up…”

  “Don’t worry about it. Nothing needs to get baked, so I can handle it.”

  “You’re the best. I promise to make it up to you later.” I pull my apron over my head and toss it on to a table.

  “You know, I’m going to hold you to that.”

  I give him a flirty smile. “I know.” I rise to my tippy toes and press a kiss to his cheek. I grab my bag and walk out the backdoor.

  VAN

  I peer around the kitchen. Dirty dishes fill the sink, flour dusts the worktable, and I still have bowls of frosting to fill. I continue scraping the cream cheese frosting into the bowl when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I wonder if Hollyn forgot to tell me something. Setting the spatula down, I fish my phone and unlock the screen. Except it isn’t a message from Hollyn. Instead, it’s a message from Trey.

  Trey

  Beers at Porter’s. Get your ass down here.

  A small smile pulls at my lips. I haven’t been back to Harbor Highlands in five years and I’ve either lost touch with all my old friends or they’ve moved away, so I’m ecstatic to have some new friends to hang out with. I type out a reply.

  Van

  I need to clean up at the bakery and I’ll be down.

  Trey

  Hurry because when you get here, you’re playing catch up. The longer you take, the more beers you’re drinking.

  Shit. I’ve seen these guys drink. They can definitely toss them back. I hustle around the kitchen, first starting with scraping the last of the frosting, wash the dishes, and wipe down all the surfaces. Once everything is done, I take one last glance around the kitchen when I notice a covered bowl still on the counter. I grab it, open the fridge door, move a few things around to make room, and toss it in. I release the door handle. Without a glance back, I flick off the lights and lock up.

  Nineteen

  Bartender Therapy

  Van

  I pull open the back door to the bakery, a smile on my face, excited to spend the day with Hollyn again. When I enter the kitchen, all the excitement drains from my body. She’s standing in front of the worktable, shoulders deflated. That’s when I notice the fridge door open and all of its contents sitting on the steel table, including the containers of frosting we made yesterday.

  Something’s not right. I approach her as if she’s a scared animal. Unsure what type of reaction I might get. That’s when a lone tear rolls down her cheek.

  “Hey, is everything alright?” My voice is soft, still unsure what the issue is.

  Her chest rises as she inhales a slow, deep breath. “No Van, it’s not.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong? You want to know what’s wrong?” She rises to her full height.

  “Yeah. That’s why I asked.”

  She turns to face me. “Well, it turns out when you left last night, you didn’t close the fridge. So all night it ran and eventually the motor burned out, causing everything inside to spoil. Including the frosting we need for the cupcakes. That’s what’s wrong.” She whirls around, grabs boxes and containers off the table, and hurls them into the trash.

  “I closed the fridge last night. I put the last container of frosting in and closed the door.”

  “Well, it wasn’t closed when I came in. There was a box pressed against the door, so it didn’t seal. Did you not double check?”

  “No, I didn’t think I had to double check. I shut the door and left to meet up with the guys at Porter’s.”

  “Oh, I see.” She grabs a carton of eggs and flings it into the trash. The crunch of eggs breaking fills the room. “Beers with the guys was more important. Glad to see where your priorities lie.”

  “What’s the issue? We’ll make more frosting.”

  She inhales a deep breath before meeting my gaze. “It’s not only the frosting, Van. We have to spend money for more ingredients, but most of all we need a new fridge.”

  “Calm down. Everything will be fine.” I rest my hands on her shoulder. Her head snaps my way. Her eyes narrow, giving me the death glare. Slowly, I pull my hands away and retreat.

  “I’m fooling myself. You’re young, know nothing about baking, and know even less about responsibility.” She throws her hands in the air.

  I scoff. “You’d be surprised how much I know about responsibility.”

  With a hand on her hip, she snarls. “Oh yeah, like what? How to do a keg stand without spilling a drop?”

  My gaze bores into hers. “More like dropping everything to be with my pregnant girlfriend, busting my ass off to provide a future for her, only to find out eight months later that it may not be mine. Spoiler alert, it wasn’t. She’d been cheating on me with my best friend. So yeah, I know a thing or two about responsibility.”

  She slinks back. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “Because you didn’t care to ask!” Heat floods my entire body as my pulse pounds.

  “I didn’t know we were at the ‘tell me your life story’ stage of whatever this is.” She shakes a finger between us.

  “Clearly, you don’t know a lot of things about me and didn’t bother to ask because you were too focused on yourself. Maybe this was a mistake.” She flinches and inches backward. I snatch my keys off the counter and stomp past her. “I gotta get out of here.”

  My knuckles crash into the door, forcing it open, and I don’t wait around for it to slam behind me. I throw open my car door and jump inside. Adrenaline courses through my body as I fumble to shove the key into the ignition but don’t turn it over. Hurt and anger bubble through my pores. Who’s she to make snap judgments about me? She knows nothing about me or my life. What am I even doing here? Running a bakery… this isn’t my life. This was never supposed to be my life. I turn the key and the engine roars. The tires squeal on the blacktop as I stomp on the gas and exit the parking lot. Unsure of where I’m going, I just drive. Newly built unfamiliar buildings pass by, along with new businesses that sprouted up since I left. I lived here for most my life, but everything seems foreign, like I don’t belong here anymore. Maybe I don’t, until the sign for Porter’s Ale House comes into view. At least it’s a place I’m semi-familiar with. I pull my car into the parking lot and proceed inside.

  There’re a few people scattered amongst the high-top tables and a couple sitting at the bar. I decide to take a seat at the bar, a beer and the baseball game playing on the tv hanging behind it might distract me from Hollyn and the bakery. I find an empty seat at the end and plop down. Before I can decide what I want, a brunette greets me from the opposite side.

  “What can I get you?”

  “Whatever you got on tap.” Her gaze drifts to the row of ten different tap levers, then slowly comes back to me with a raised eyebrow. “Oh. Um. Castle Danger.” She grabs a pint glass and rests it below the spout and pulls the lever. The dark brown liquid fills the glass as the tan foam forms at the top. Once it’s full, she sets a coaster in front of me and places the beer on top. “Thank you.” But she doesn’t move. She studies me as if she’s trying to see into my soul, and I think it’s working.

  “You look familiar.” She tilts her head and squints.

  “I’m not from around here. Well, not anymore anyway.”

  “You’ve been in here before.”

  “A couple of times. I’ve met Jake. I’m friends with Trey, Seth, and Bennett.”

  She snaps her fingers. “That’s it. You’re the new guy. Van. I’m Rylee.” She pauses. “So, what brings you in here without your posse?”

  “It’s a long story.” I reach for my beer and take a gulp.

  “They always are.”

  Over the next twenty minutes, I spill the entire last twenty hours of my life to this stranger. And it feels refreshing. She listens, pours me a new beer as soon as mine is empty, and all this without judgment. Or so I thought.

  “So let me get this straight. You got into a fight with your girl—”

  “She’s not my girl,” I correct.

  “Oh, she’s definitely your girl, otherwise you wouldn’t be at the bar in the middle of the afternoon pouring your heart out to a bartender you don’t know.”

  Well, shit, maybe she’s on to something.

  “As I was saying, you got into a fight. You told her to calm down. That pissed her off more, and then you called her selfish. Did I get all that?”

 

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