by E. L. Todd
“Very nice.” I put my hands in the pockets of my suit. The last time we spoke, I called her out on the locket around her throat. How could she ever truly belong to Kyle when my claim hung around her neck every day? Even after that conversation, she hadn’t taken it off.
She still loved me.
“Is there something I can help you with?” She wiped the frosting off the metal with warm water.
I did my best to ignore her coldness. “I was hoping we could talk when you have a chance.”
The irritated sigh she released was loud enough for the entire bakery to hear. “I’m tired of talking, Hawke. I just want silence from now on. Unless you have something important to say, something that has nothing to do with us, then just don’t.”
“I do have something important to say. And no, it doesn’t have anything to do with us.”
She set her utensil down then crossed her arms over her apron. It had The Muffin Girl logo on the front. “Why do I not believe you?”
I wanted to kiss the frosting off her cheek. I wanted to kiss the frosting off her entire body. “I need to gather my mother’s things and figure out what to do with the house. I was supposed to do it months ago but I haven’t gotten around to it.”
Her hostility immediately waned.
“I don’t want to walk into the place again. I don’t want to look through her things and try to decide what to keep and what to throw away. Axel offered to come with me but…he’s not the right person for the job.” I silently asked her without saying the words. There was only one person I wanted by my side.
Francesca could hide her thoughts from everyone but me. Her eyes formed an indistinct sheen when she was emotional. It was invisible to anyone’s naked eye beside my own. When her eyes shifted, she was trying to make a decision. And when she hugged her waist, she was plagued with indecision. My abilities hadn’t developed with time. They were innate, present since the moment we met.
And she had the same abilities toward me.
“I want to help you but I don’t think I should.”
“Why not?”
“Kyle won’t be happy with the thought of me spending time with you—not that I blame him.”
“Since when did you let a guy dictate what you do and don’t do?” She sure as hell never listened to me.
“It’s not about dictating.”
“If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to. I’d only want you there if you wanted to be there. And if you don’t…that’s fine.” I took a step back to the door then turned around. I knew Francesca wanted to be there for me—no matter what. When I was in pain, so was she. It didn’t matter what happened between us. She would always be there.
“Wait.”
I stopped and felt gratitude wash through me. I slowly turned around, my hands still in my pockets.
“I’ll go with you.”
Triumph didn’t blare in my heart. There was no victory when there was no battle to begin with. I’d always known what her answer would be. “Tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
***
I parked at the curb and waited for her to come downstairs. I was in my Jaguar, my fancy car that I never used. It sat in the parking garage most of the time. Only when I had a meeting with a new client did I drive it.
She came downstairs with her bag over her shoulder. She wore denim shorts and a pink razorback top. Her hair was in a long braid over one shoulder, and brown sandals were on her feet.
I wanted to grab her and never let go.
She tossed her things in the trunk before she got into the passenger seat. I didn’t bother trying to help her with anything because I knew she wouldn’t like it. She shut the door then buckled her safety belt. “Hi.” She looked out the front window or her passenger window, never looking directly at me.
“Hi.” My eyes immediately went to the locket around her neck. It was a beacon of hope for me, a sign that our everlasting love still burned hot like the sun itself.
Her eyes turned to my center console and she looked at all the gadgets. Then she looked out the window again.
“Are you ready to go?”
“That’s why I’m sitting here buckled in.”
I ignored the resentful jab and took off. She hated the fact she was manipulated into spending time with me, but she hated the fact it was her own decision even more. Despite her free will, there were certain things out of her control.
I was one of them.
I turned on the radio so there was something to listen to besides the building tension.
She looked out the passenger window, watching the skyscrapers slowly disappear until we left the city.
“How are the plans coming along for the second business?” Talking about The Muffin Girl was always a safe bet with her. It was a passion that never caused her any discomfort.
“Honestly, I haven’t done much work. There’s a space available in Brooklyn and I think I might take it.”
“Why Brooklyn?”
“Because it’s not Manhattan and it’s close.”
“Why not open another one here?”
“In the same city?” she asked. “The Muffin Girl may be popular but it’s not a Taco Bell.”
My lips lifted into an automatic smile. “Manhattan is a huge place. If you put one on the opposite corner of the city, it’ll attract a whole new world of people. And it’s still close by so you can walk to it.”
“I don’t know…”
“The people who live near The Muffin Girl aren’t going to walk all the way to the other one. Plus, there’s a whole new district of offices and business. That’s a crowd of workers that will need a lighter-than-air pastry at lunchtime.”
“You really believe that?”
“Yes.” My business was completely different than hers but I had experience. “And I have a ton of clients over there. I can have our meetings at the second shop to introduce them to it. By word of mouth, they’ll tell everyone else how amazing it is. Then you have a new whole stream of revenue.”
“Opening a business in the food industry is hard. You make it sound like it’s a walk in the park.”
“Actually, you’re the one who made it look like a piece of cake—no pun intended. You opened that shop and people just started pouring in. The day you opened you were packed.”
She slowly turned my way, looking at me for the first time. “How do you know that?”
Even though we weren’t together, I always watched her from a safe distance. “I was there.” I stood across the street at the coffee shop and watched her cut the ribbon with Marie and Axel. Then I watched her small business become a powerhouse success.
“I don’t remember that.”
“I was across the street.”
She kept staring at me, questioning me.
“You were wearing a Muffin Girl apron with those dark jeans that have a hole in the crotch. The ribbon was yellow, and you cut it with a pair of pink scissors that looked like they belonged to an enormous Barbie.” If there was any doubt I was lying, it was now gone.
“Why were you there?”
“I always watched you even if you couldn’t see me. I wasn’t keeping tabs on you. I just wanted to know you were happy, that I made the right decision when I walked away from us.”
She turned her gaze back to the window.
It was tense all over again.
“Did you have a good weekend?”
“It was okay,” she answered. “Yours?”
Every day of my life without her was a living hell. “It was fine.” I assumed she spent every weekend with Kyle, and I didn’t care for the details. But I had to ask her something to keep the conversation going since we had a long drive.
“How’s work?”
“Good. The past few months have been unusually good.”
“Why?”
“Stocks have been doing well.” I didn’t want to go into more detail because it became complicated and boring really fast. “The Muffin Girl?”
�
�I can never keep up with that place.”
“Then why are you opening a second one?”
“Since the business has been doing well, I have money sitting aside. I thought I would invest it in something else.”
“That’s a good idea. But how do you expect to be in two places at once?” Francesca was superwoman and could do anything, but she couldn’t do the impossible.
“I’ll have to hire a manager for the other place. I’ll probably pick my best worker from the shop and have them transfer over.”
“Have anyone in mind?”
“A few people, actually. I’m really lucky that I have some incredible people working for me. The college kids that work in the evenings give the place a fun atmosphere, and my morning workers are like worker bees. They operate well together.”
“You’re lucky.”
“I pay them twice the minimum wage.”
“Really?” For selling muffins and cakes?
“Yeah. When my workers are happy, productivity really increases. And that happiness and loyalty infects the air and gives it a good atmosphere. I think that has a lot to do with my success.”
“I don’t know. I think it might be the delicious muffins.”
Finally, a smile spread across her face. “I think that has something to do with it. But your service should be as good as your product.”
“Where did you learn all of this?”
“I got my degree in business. Or did you forget?”
I never forgot a single thing about her. “Money well spent.”
“I think so.”
I kept my eyes on the road but desperately wanted to look at her instead. My hand rested on the gearshift but I wanted to move it to her thigh. When we started talking, everything felt the way it used to. Our conversations flowed like water, and the ever-present chemistry sparked.
If I noticed it, so did she. Maybe if it looked her in the face long enough she would stop ignoring it. Her heart would cave and she would forgive me for the way I hurt her.
And I could have one more shot of getting this right.
***
We stopped in front of the house.
I stared at it, remembering my childhood home. The last time I was there, I had a loaded pistol and was ready to blow my father’s brain out of his skull. The place had an eerie look to it, like it was a haunted house more than a home.
Francesca patiently waited for me to get out of the car. She sat in absolute silence and gave me all the time I needed to make a move. Like always, she was in tune with my feelings. She knew I was battling demons from the past, the ghosts that haunted me every day.
I walked into that house when I was ready to murder someone, but now that my purpose was to dig through all my mom’s possessions, I wasn’t as determined. The visit would just bring back painful memories, the kind I’d spent my life suppressing.
I sat there for an entire hour, waiting for my hand to grab the door handle. I stared at the covered windows and out-of-control lawn. The grass was tall with weeds and the bushes were untrimmed. My father’s truck was still in the driveway, as was my mother’s car.
Francesca remained absolutely still.
I cleared my throat then opened the door. “I’m ready.”
Francesca followed my lead and walked with me into the house. She stood close to me but never touched me.
The musty smell of time hit both of us right in the face. The air was old and heavy, like it hadn’t been circulated since the last time I was there.
It was exactly as I last saw it, except my father’s body was gone. The place still contained the atmosphere of despair. Sorrow hung in the air, impregnated from years of emotional and physical abuse. Just the smell reminded me of my evenings locked in the closet. Just the sight made me think of the bat colliding against my ribs. The memories washed through me, reminding me of the resentment I felt toward the other kids at school. They all had perfect families and perfect lives they went home to every day. I went home to this.
Francesca came to my side but still didn’t touch me, to my disappointment. She stared at the living room, seeing the old furniture that was breaking at the seams. Old glasses of beer and brandy were scattered across the tabletops. The rug contained old stains of brandy.
“This is it…home sweet home.”
***
I went through my mother’s drawers and found a lot of junk. She had cheap jewelry, packs of playing cards, and tons of painkillers. Nothing was worth keeping so I tossed it into the big plastic bag beside me.
Francesca went through a different dresser. Using her own discretion as she searched through years of garbage.
I didn’t bother touching anything that belonged to my father. Whether it was worth something or not, I was going to throw it away. Even if he had a million dollars stashed somewhere, I wouldn’t want it.
After I finished cleaning out her nightstand, I peeked under the bed to see if anything worthwhile was underneath. Mom would place storage boxes underneath, full of things she would forget about until she opened them again. Instead of seeing boxes, I only saw a wooden bat.
I recognized it from my childhood. It was the very one my father used to beat me into submission. There were scuff marks around the edges from striking the wall as he chased me down. They looked like teeth marks.
I pulled it out then gripped it by the base. The bat was thirty years old and time had weathered it immensely. My fingers felt the wood and remembered exactly how it felt against my bare skin. I gripped the base so tightly it chafed my skin.
Francesca stopped her search and watched me, understanding the significance of the bat without asking. She watched me with sad eyes, knowing I was combating a past that would never go away.
In that moment, I wanted to demolish the house with the weapon. I wanted to scream and break everything in my path. The raw rage burned inside me painfully, desperate to release like a building volcano.
But I calmed myself. I remembered what my therapist said. I had to control my emotions and let them go in a positive way. If I didn’t control my anger, I could never be with the woman I loved.
I rose to my feet, the bat at my side.
Francesca watched me, waiting for me to start my rampage.
But instead of doing that, I walked out.
“Hawke.” Francesca chased after me, afraid of what I might do. “Breaking down the house isn’t going to change anything. You’re just going to make it more difficult to clean up.”
I ignored her and kept walking. I made it to the back door then walked across the grass of the backyard.
Francesca stayed close on my heels. “Hawke, I know this is hard but it’s in the past.”
I placed the bat on an old tree stump that had been there since I could remember. My father cut it down because it endangered a power line. But he never removed the stump from the ground.
There was an axe in the toolshed I snatched it before I came back.
Francesca fell silent and watched me.
I pulled the axe far over the back of my head and aimed. Then I slammed the axe down as hard as I could, breaking the bat cleanly in two. The two pieces broke off and soared in opposite directions, landing in the grass a few feet away. The blade of the axe was embedded deep into the wood. It was so far in I doubt I could pull it out.
I breathed hard and stared at the broken pieces. Now that my father was gone, he couldn’t hurt me anymore. My mother was in a better place. And the weapon he used to torture me was gone. Now I could start over and hope for a new beginning.
Francesca slowly came to my side, her eyes trained on my face.
I looked at her for the first time and saw the tears in her eyes. They were coated with distinct moisture, and all the pain she felt was apparent in every feature. She felt what I felt, intense pain coupled with relief.
She moved to my body and rested her forehead against my chest. Her arms circled my waist and she remained there, giving me the greatest comfort I’d felt in a long time.
My arms wrapped around her shoulders, and I rested my forehead on the top of her head, inhaling her beautiful scent. She was right next to my heart, listening to it beat loudly just for her. The pain thudded deep in my chest, and I felt it travel to my eyes. I wanted to break down but I held it back. Feeling her in my arms like this was exactly what I needed. When our souls were close to one another, the pain seemed to stop.
She gave me exactly what I needed.
***
Francesca unfolded a piece of paper she found in the drawer. She scanned through a few lines before she turned to me. “Hawke.”
“What?” I tossed a box of shoes in the donation bag.
“I think you should look at this.” She swallowed the lump in her throat before she handed it over. “I found it in an envelope addressed to you.”
I took it with a shaky hand and began reading.
Hawke,
It’s one of those nights when I question why I’m here. I know I should go, but I fear my escape will lead to my death regardless. Now that you’ve moved away, I know I’m on my own.
But I’m so happy.
This may be my last night on earth, and if it is, there are things I want to say just in case I never get to say them in person.
I owe you an apology. I had a child and brought him into a world that he never should have experienced. When I had you, I should have taken you and ran away as far as I could. We’ve both been through so much, but you never should have known that kind of pain. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you from it. I’m sorry for everything.
Knowing you’re in New York and starting your own life away from this is exactly what I wanted. You’re so smart, successful, and talented. I have no idea what I did to have such an amazing son, but somehow I was blessed.
If I don’t make it to see how your life turns out, I want you to know how proud I am of you. You’re the greatest son I ever could have asked for. I hope you see the world for the beautiful place it truly is. I hope you fall in love with a woman that will make you understand the true meaning of happiness. And when you have your own children someday, I hope you give them the childhood I never could give to you.
You will be all right, Hawke. I’m sure of that. I know I’ve told you how similar you are to your father, but that’s only in appearance. He doesn’t have your strength, your good heart, or your integrity. You’re nothing like him. I’m sorry I ever made the comparison.