by Lacey Black
And then there’s Lizzie.
Lizard.
What would it be like to have one of those little people running around? For the longest time, I would have declared it not for me. The diapers, the crying, the demand that comes with raising a child.
But then I picture the other side of parenting. How excited Lizard is when she gives Walker a new picture for his office wall and how hard she hugs him when he picks her up from preschool. The sweet way she whispers she loves him as she snuggles into her little bed before falling asleep.
Somehow, those images are more vibrant, more overpowering than the ones I always saw when I thought about having kids. It just wasn’t for me. I loved spending the afternoon with my niece and nephew but am always happier when I’m back at my own place, surrounded in peace and quiet.
Now, kids don’t seem so bad.
Especially when Lyndee’s in the picture.
After our meeting, I head back to my office and get a little work done. I do a quick inventory and place orders, all while my mind is completely distracted by thoughts of the woman who monopolizes my every thought. I bring up my email and delete all the junk. I send a few replies and finish one I started earlier left in my draft folder, and when everything is clean and filed, I finally shut my laptop down.
Glancing at the clock, I realize it’s near dinnertime. The bakery is closed, but I can’t help but wonder if maybe my girl is across the street, prepping tomorrow’s breads and donuts. Instead of going to the grill and getting to work, I find myself walking to the bar, to the wall of windows that faces the street.
The ones I can see directly into the bakery, to the woman who’s still working away in her kitchen. She’s bent over the island—the very one I took her on when we baked her birthday cake—kneading a big ball of dough.
Before I even know what’s happening, I head out the door. Without a coat, I cross the street, and make my way to the alley entrance of Sugar Rush.
One kiss.
That’s all I need.
One little kiss to tide me over until later tonight.
When we’ll be alone, and I can show her with my body how I’m falling for her.
And maybe soon, have the balls to actually be able to tell her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lyndee
“So, are you excited about this weekend?” Dana asks, sitting at the table across from me.
I offer a quick grin, thinking about the getaway Jasper has planned for us. We’re leaving in two days, after I close the bakery and his evening chef comes in for the night. He surprised me with this trip on Sunday, after making sure my brother would be okay by himself for the night. I know he will be, but I can’t help but feel guilty. Dustin has been home by himself several times since I started seeing Jasper, but I’m usually just across town. Not an hour away.
“I am.” I’m beaming from ear to ear, starting to get really excited about the bed and breakfast he booked for us. “And you two have plans Saturday night, right?”
Dustin and Dana have been spending a lot of time together. She comes over a few evenings a week and watches movies with him but has yet to spend the night. I’d be okay with it but am not really sure how to tell them that. I mean, I want him to have friends and is free to date if he wants. The fact he picked Dana, who is super sweet and encouraging for him, is the icing on the proverbial cake.
“We do. He’s insisting on making me dinner. I hope that’s okay,” she says, taking a sip of her tea.
“Of course it is. It’s his place as much as it is mine. You’re welcome anytime,” I reassure her, watching as she smiles the moment my brother comes through the door.
It’s an unusually warm late January day, so Dustin insisted on walking the deposit down the block to get outside for a few minutes.
Using his walker, he heads our way, a tight look on his face. “Hey.”
“Hi,” Dana blurts out, jumping up and giving him a kiss on the cheek. I watch as the tension ebbs from his face, but only a little.
“Something wrong?” I ask, warming my hands on my own mug of tea.
“Oh, uh…I don’t know,” he says uncomfortably, glancing around. It’s nearing our two o’clock closing time, and even though we’re usually busy up until we close, it’s been unusually quiet today.
Dustin sits down and sets a newspaper on the table. There’s a slight shake to his hand as he pushes it my way. “I was at the bank and the ladies behind the counter were reading something in the paper. When they turned to help me, one gave me a super guilty look and shoved the paper behind her back. It gave me a weird feeling, so I stopped at the corner market and grabbed one.”
I glance down, unsure what I’m seeing. The front-page article is about a food drive at the local high school, but something tells me that’s not why he purchased a copy. I flip through the pages until I hit page five, and something jumps out at me. It’s my name.
I scan the article, unsure what I’m reading. The words are…wrong. So wrong, I have to stop and read it again. The second time doesn’t help.
I don’t understand what’s going on here.
“What is this?” I whisper, my throat thick with emotion.
Dustin gives me a look of pity. “It appears to be a letter to the editor.”
“It has Jasper’s name on the bottom.” He doesn’t have to confirm my statement because it’s right there, in black and white. “Jasper wrote this?” I ask, my eyes clouded with unshed tears.
“It would appear so,” Dustin replies slowly.
“Why?” I mutter, the question barely audible.
He reaches over and squeezes my hand. “I’m not sure. You’re going to have to ask him that.”
I reread the article for a third time, trying to wrap my head around what is going on. Why would he write these horrible lies? Slept with a health inspector? Was fired? Unsanitary kitchen? What in the hell?
I jump up, my chair clattering to the floor behind me, but I don’t step to pick it up. “Listen, it’s almost two. Why don’t you two head out and enjoy the afternoon,” I suggest, moving behind the counter and scrubbing at the already-clean space.
“I think I’m going to stay,” Dustin says to Dana, standing up and shuffling to where I stand.
“No,” I insist, tossing the cloth on the countertop. “Really, I think I want to be alone for a little while. You two go and enjoy this nice day. Tomorrow the temperature is supposed to drop again, so you might as well take advantage of it, right?” I ask, giving them a big, fake smile.
He sighs. “I don’t like it.”
“Please, Dust. I need to be alone right now.” I blink several times, trying to keep the tears at bay. I refuse to let them fall right now. Not in front of my brother and Dana.
“Okay, but you’ll call us if you need us?”
I nod and give him a hug. “I will, promise. I’m going to prep tomorrow’s dough, and maybe try out that new cookie recipe I’ve been working on. You two go. I’ll see you later tonight. Or not. Go out and have fun. Enjoy your time together,” I say, practically pushing them out the door.
“We’ll see you later,” he insists, waiting for Dana to step out first before he follows using his walker.
Once he’s down the sidewalk, I close and lock the door, only to stop and stare at the building across the street. I’m so conflicted, so confused about what is happening. One minute he’s inviting me to a weekend getaway, and now he’s printing lies about me in the local paper? For what?
My mind swims with questions and no answers, but that’s not what hurts the most. That’s my heart. The ache has become so intense, it’s hard to breathe.
I flip off the lights and head to the kitchen, to the one place where everything seems right. My heart hammers in my chest as I add ingredients into the mixer, preparing my first batch of fresh banana bread for tomorrow. Flipping the lever, the machine starts to do its thing, but I don’t see it.
I can’t.
The tears start to fall.
What am I going to do?
Why did he do this?
And why does the thought of losing him forever hurt more than the potential damage to my reputation?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jasper
“Order up!” I bellow, pushing the plates toward my assistant. It’s just after seven, and we’re still hopping. The dining room is packed, even for a Thursday night. Usually, I’d have the evening off and would be with Lyndee, but since Ross is working for me Saturday, I’m taking tonight for him.
“Uh, Jasper, a word, please?” Jameson announces, approaching the grill.
“Not now. I’m busy,” I reply, throwing three more patties on the grill for the next order. “Where are the fries? We’re almost out of fresh cut fries!”
“Now.”
There’s something in his tone, in that one word. I glance up and find his angry eyes glaring at me.
What the hell?
“Uhh, Doug, can you man the grill for me for a second?” I say, setting my spatula down and following my friend toward my office.
The moment I step over the threshold, the door slams shut. “What the hell?”
“Shut up.” Jameson gives me a look that would make a lesser man cower beneath the desk. I’ve rarely seen this side of him, never to have it directed at me. The anger rolling off him is thick and uncomfortable, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out why he looks like he wants to kill me and bury my body in the woods.
Instead of arguing with him, I do as instructed and take a seat behind my desk. I expect Jameson to sit across from me, but that’s not what he does. He leans over my desk, narrowing his focused eyes. “What the fuck did you do?” he growls, making me pull back.
“What are you talking about? What did I do?”
“The newspaper!” he thunders, slamming his hand down on the desk.
“What newspaper?” I demand, getting angry myself. “What the hell are you talking about.”
“The letter to the editor, Jasper. What the fuck?”
My mind spins. Letter to the editor? What the hell is he talking about. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I holler back, standing up and leaning over my desk. We’re practically nose to nose now, but I don’t care.
“No? You don’t remember this?” he asks, reaching into his leather jacket and pulling a folded newspaper from within. He slaps it on the desk between us, drawing my angry gaze down.
I read the words, but…what?
What the hell is this?
“Look familiar?” he demands, the vein on his forehead pulsing.
I look back down, trying to figure out what is going on here. It’s a letter to the editor, written by me.
That article.
The one from weeks ago, when I found out Lyndee was opening the bakery across the street. I remember finding the news story about Sugar Rush and reading all about her successes. About the awards she won.
I was so pissed off.
I clicked the link and typed out all that bullshit but never sent it.
I know I didn’t.
“I didn’t send this,” I insist, rereading the garbage on the paper for a second time.
“Not according to name at the bottom.”
My lungs deflate, all oxygen seeming to evaporate from the room. I drop in my chair and try to breathe, but it’s difficult. My lungs burn, my throat’s dry, and my chest aches. “I wrote it, but…a while ago. I didn’t send it.”
“But you did.”
My mind races as I try to piece together what is happening. I thought I got rid of that email. How the hell did it wind up being sent after I composed and thought I deleted it?
“I don’t…” I run my hands through my hair. “I don’t understand.”
He snorts in disgust. “You think you don’t understand? How the hell do you think Lyndee feels right now?”
I jump up and glance toward the door. “I gotta go.”
As I fling open the door, ignoring how it slams against the wall of my office, he hollers, “You better fix this shit and fast!”
I move through the kitchen, feeling eyes on as me as I go. Glancing at Doug, I tell him to cover for me and hightail it out of the kitchen.
The dining room is full, but my focus is on the front entrance. I’m outside moments later and running across the street, a car honking its horn and slamming on the brakes to keep from hitting me.
When I hit the sidewalk, I see lights on in the back of the bakery, letting me know Lyndee’s inside. I decide to take a chance that the back door is unlocked and am there a few seconds later. Twisting the knob, I’m relieved to find it unlocked as I push it open and step inside.
It only takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the fluorescent lighting, but when they do, the scene before me breaks my heart. Lyndee’s standing there, surrounded by dozens of pastries, flour covering every surface and egg splattered on the back wall.
I take a step forward, my heart in my throat. “Lyndee?”
She looks up, our eyes meeting, hers holding so much agony it causes me physical pain. “What are you doing here?” she whispers, swiping angrily at a tear on her cheek.
“I…” What do I say to fix this? “Are you okay?”
Her swollen eyes flare with fury. “Am I okay?” she repeats, sarcasm dripping off her words.
Okay, so apparently that was the wrong question.
“I just…” I stammer, taking a step in her direction.
“You just…what? What could you possibly have to say right now, Jasper?”
I move around the island, slowly joining her on the opposite side. “I don’t know how this happened.”
“How what happened? How you wrote horrible lies about me and my business and sent them to the local newspaper for everyone to read? How you damaged my reputation and everything I’m working for with just a few clicks of the mouse? Please, tell me all about how you have no clue how this happened.”
I stop when I’m directly in front of her, those gorgeous brown eyes I love throwing daggers of venom at my chest. “Listen, I know this looks bad,” I start, but don’t get any further.
“Looks bad? This doesn’t look bad, Jasper. This is bad!”
“I didn’t mean any of that,” I argue, grasping at any straw I can grab to help me plead my case.
“You didn’t mean it? All those lies you told?” She laughs, but it’s humorless and sounds nothing like the glorious chuckle I long to hear. “Well, thank God you didn’t mean it. That fixes everything!”
I sigh, reaching for her hand, but she snaps it back before I can touch her. “I don’t know what to say,” I whisper, hating that she won’t let me touch her.
“There’s nothing you can say, is there? You wrote deceptions about me and sent them to the newspaper, Jasper.”
“I’m so sorry, sweets. I didn’t mean them. I was angry, and it was juvenile. I knew it after I had written it and thought it was deleted,” I plea, taking a small step closer. “It must have accidentally gone to my draft folder and went out earlier this week after I was sending emails.”
She closes her eyes, the tears still falling in waves, creating a hole the size of Jupiter to form in my gut.
My thumb grazes against her soft, wet skin and a whimper escapes her lips. “I’m so fucking sorry,” I tell her, stepping forward once more. We’re standing chest to chest, our bodies aligning perfect. She was made for me.
I lean down and brush my lips across hers. A charge of electricity slides through my body just like it does every time we touch. I want nothing more than to kiss away the pain, to take all the hurt I’ve caused and make it all go away.
Just as I try to deepen the kiss, she rips her lips from mine and takes a step back. I want to grab her, make her stay with me, refuse to break our connection because it’s too fucking good, too fucking right to deny. But when I go to open my mouth, she’s already shaking her head, the op
ening I saw earlier slammed shut and locked without a hint of sunlight.
“You need to go,” she says, her voice trembling, yet strong.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to make this right.”
Those brown eyes I love so much are cold as they glare at me. “You’re going to make what right? The fact I had hardly any customers this afternoon after your little fictitious letter went viral? Fix the fact I had a customer cancel an upcoming wedding cake order that I had just secured last week? Guess what, Jasper. You can’t make this right. The damage is done. You spewed mistruths publicly, damaging my business and my reputation.”
This is what a broken heart feels like.
“But do you know what’s worse of all? As badly as that hurts, and believe me, that fucking blows, what hurts the most is being betrayed by the one person I thought was my friend. The one person who held me in his arms and made me feel safe and secure, who gave me the confidence I needed to push through the hardest weeks of opening my own business. The man I trusted more than anyone else, and now that’s broken.”
She starts to cry once more. I step forward, but she pulls back. Again.
It’s like someone is cutting out my heart with a rusty butter knife.
“Please go.”
I move away from her, only because I know my words won’t matter. No amount of apologizing will fix this. My mind is screaming to cut my losses and get the hell out of here. I wasn’t the relationship kind of guy anyway, right? This just proves I’m nothing but the self-centered asshole everyone accuses me of being. All I’ll do is taint her beauty, her goodness.
This proves I’m all wrong for her.
I knew it then.
I know it now.
It’s still hard though, walking away from the only woman I’ve ever seen myself loving. Even when I know it’s the best thing for her. And for me.
But I do it. I walk to the door. I push open the screened outer one and step through it. Only when I’m over the threshold, everything I never knew I wanted standing behind me, do I stop and turn around.
And want to cry.
She looks so lost, so hurt, so devastated.