The Forget-Me-Not Bakery

by Caroline Flynn

  If she hadn’t been so completely bowled over by the absurdity of it all, Paige would have laughed out loud. But there was nothing funny about the hazel eyes that stared back at her, and there was nothing funny about the desire that coursed through her veins to run into his arms and beg him to ask her to stay.

  It was on the tip of her tongue to explain. To tell him everything Alex had offered. But she didn’t trust herself to start talking, knowing too well that more words would come out. Things she couldn’t let herself say aloud. Knees weak, Paige felt powerless against her own swirling emotions. There was no way she could contend with his right now.

  ‘I should get back to work,’ she said, taking a step back.

  Cohen’s eyes never wavered, fixed on her. Watching. Waiting. ‘Yeah, me too.’

  Heat crept up into Paige’s cheeks. She felt too much, too strongly. She couldn’t do this. Cohen had made his decision, and she had to abide by it. ‘I’ll get this questionnaire filled out for Bryce and email it to the clinic for you to give to him. Thanks for dropping it off.’

  Whatever Cohen expected from her, it wasn’t that. He seemed confused. Blindsided, even. ‘Sounds perfect.’

  She nodded as she backed away from him, rounding the front counter to put distance between them. She let the uncomfortable silence hang between them after that, not trusting herself to say anything more until she saw him retreat toward the doorway.

  ‘Cohen?’

  He turned, hand resting on the door handle. Hope swarmed his eyes, and it caused a painful twisting in Paige’s stomach knowing she’d given him that thread to hold on to with only a single word.

  ‘It was good to see you,’ she said. Then, she disappeared back behind the dividing wall and hid there, back up against the cool drywall, until she heard the bell chime as Cohen left, walking out of her life. This time, for good.

  Chapter 26

  Cohen

  It was good to see you. Paige’s words reverberated through his mind, overtaking his brain and wiggling into his subconscious. The way she said it had seemed so … final.

  He knew then that he’d lost her, although the obnoxious bigwig in the expensive suit should have been his first clue. That guy’s haircut probably cost more than Cohen had paid for his lifetime of haircuts combined.

  We’re friends, too. Those few words had kept making their way into his mind as well, etching themselves into his thoughts and making him crazy. Alex Livingston had been enjoying himself, there was no denying that. He’d known he had the ability to entice Paige into leaving. To steal her away from him.

  Except, Paige had never been Cohen’s to steal in the first place, and he had given her every reason to want to be persuaded to walk away from Port Landon and never look back. Hell, he may as well have packed up her vehicle for her and filled the tank with gas.

  In his haste, Cohen had forgotten all about the envelope of fundraiser money he’d said he would deliver. Thankfully, he did remember Bryce’s school project questionnaire. It was a flimsy excuse, but good enough to get him in the door. Cohen could have filled it out himself if he’d been intent on keeping his distance from Paige. But distance was the last thing he wanted. He knew he needed to fix this. He needed to stop Paige from running back to New York.

  And from taking his heart with her.

  That’s why he’d gone into the bakery in the first place. Not to hand over Bryce’s assignment, but to apologize to Paige, once and for all, and to confess to her that he wanted a chance to make things right. He wanted to tell her he loved her, like he’d planned to that night before the fundraiser.

  Somehow, that night seemed like a lifetime ago.

  Even with the knowledge of what Rhonda had told him this morning, though, Cohen never expected to come face to face with his worst nightmare. Not only was it true that Paige was negotiating her move back across the country, but she and her old boss were friends – whatever that meant – and he was here in Port Landon, riding in like a white knight on his trusty Armani steed, ready to convince her to go back with him.

  And they were having dinner. Tonight. He was some corporate tycoon that had everything to offer a beautiful woman like Paige. Not just a career, but a life with all the glitz and glamor she could ever want.

  Cohen couldn’t compete with that. Hell, he’d had an Italian eatery from ten miles away cater their meal in to a closed ice cream shop. That was his wholehearted attempt at a first date. Weak when compared to Alex Livingston’s likely extravagant ideas.

  Cohen was far from a man capable of glitz and glamor. Besides, he’d hurt her enough already that it didn’t matter what he had to offer. She was through with him, and she was moving on without him.

  And it looked like Alex Livingston was all too eager to help her do that, smirking the whole way.

  The four days preceding Allison Kent’s wedding went by in a busy blur. Cohen made sure of it. Whether it was an extra appointment tacked on to his workday, or an impromptu outing with Bryce to the Hansel and Gretel House, or to North Springs to see the newest Marvel movie, he was bound and determined to fill his days with something, anything, to keep his mind just as occupied as his body. He needed to keep his thoughts free of Paige Henley. He needed to give her what she wanted. And that didn’t include him.

  The cardstock invitation with calligraphy and sunflowers on it was still tacked to his refrigerator. Cohen felt a pang of guilt knowing he had RSVP’d to attend the reception, and knowing there would be one less person in attendance. He had always been a man of his word. The idea of not following through on something made his thoughts restless and his pride ache.

  But the idea of actually going to the wedding reception, especially with the possibility of seeing Paige there on the arm of someone else … well, that was almost too much to bear. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to toss the invitation away, and every time he passed by the fridge, he caught it in his peripheral vision like a beacon in the night. He couldn’t not see it, and he couldn’t look away once he’d turned to stare at it.

  He noticed that Bryce arched an eyebrow at the invitation each time he passed it, too. The boy never said a word about it, just looked at it with a questioning glance, turned to see if his father would say anything in response, then looked away. The invitation was the big ole’ pink elephant in the room, and they didn’t speak of it.

  But Bryce broke his silence on the morning of the wedding. Still donning his Ninja Turtles pajama pants with a hooded sweatshirt tossed over his shoulders, he stopped at the refrigerator, scrutinizing the invitation with renewed interest. Cohen sat at the kitchen table, coffee cup in hand, watching his son out of the corner of his eye.

  Bryce stood there, quiet, long enough to read each word on the card at least twice.

  ‘Allison’s wedding is today, Dad.’ The expression he wore when he turned to face his father gave nothing away.

  Cohen set his mug down. ‘It is. I’m on call, but we could head into North Springs and check out that new arcade downtown.’ It was better to lead with the arcade offer – that would get Bryce off the topic of the wedding faster.

  The boy seemed to be having an internal struggle about something, his lips pursed and his jaw tight. ‘Raincheck?’

  Cohen hadn’t seen that coming. Either the boy had grown out of the video game phase overnight, or …

  He had something else planned. Immediately, Cohen’s eyes narrowed. ‘You bet,’ he said. ‘But, I must admit, I’m a bit surprised by that. So, you’re going to have to tell me why we can’t go today.’

  It might have been Cohen’s imagination, but he thought his son’s face paled slightly. ‘Because … you have to go to Allison’s wedding.’

  The poor kid was growing up way too fast. ‘Bryce, I’m not going. It’s fine—’

  ‘And you’re not on call,’ he blurted out in one rushed breath. Bryce’s eyes widened, waiting for … what?

  Cohen was on high alert now. He was always on call. There was no one else to be on call for him,
and Bryce knew that. ‘Of course I am. Bryce, why wouldn’t I be?’

  ‘Because Dr Alton is going to be instead.’ It was full-blown fear in his son’s eyes now, but he continued. ‘I called him.’

  That didn’t even make sense to Cohen. Bryce didn’t know James Alton well enough to call him, and he certainly didn’t have the elderly veterinarian on speed dial. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Bryce sighed, his shoulders sagging. ‘You had his phone number in that address book you keep by the computer at the clinic. Rhonda helped me get—’

  ‘Rhonda.’ Cohen groaned. He should have known. If there was something going on behind his back – and there obviously was – then he should have known Rhonda would be involved in it.

  ‘Yeah,’ Bryce continued. ‘I told her I needed to find Dr Alton—’

  ‘Why?’ Cohen blurted, panic rising in his throat.

  ‘I’m trying to tell you.’ The roles had reversed once again, and Bryce looked exasperated by his father’s continuous interruptions. ‘I got his number from the address book and I called him. I said you needed to go to a wedding, and you needed somebody to cover for you.’

  ‘You didn’t.’ This was getting worse by the minute.

  ‘Yeah, I did.’ Bryce puffed his chest out. ‘Now, you can go to the wedding with Paige.’

  His ten-year-old son had gone behind his back and planned a date night for him and Paige. To rekindle the relationship he thought he’d torn apart, no doubt. It would have been heartwarming if it wasn’t so unbelievably sad.

  ‘Bryce, I don’t think Paige and I are going to see much of each other anymore.’ He spoke carefully. ‘She’s not expecting me to show up at the wedding today.’

  ‘That’s an even better reason to go!’ Bryce exclaimed, his hands waving wildly. ‘You can surprise her. If you say you’re sorry, then she’ll forgive you. I know she will.’

  Oh, to be an adolescent boy again. Cohen wished it was as easy as apologizing. And he wished a mere apology held the weight it did on the playground at ten years old. ‘That’s not really how it works, son,’ he said. ‘I know you’re trying to help, and I appreciate that. I do. But I don’t think this is going to work out the way we want it to.’

  Bryce pointed to his father like he’d just caught him in a blatant lie. ‘You just said we.’

  ‘Bryce …’

  ‘Just go talk to her, Dad!’ The boy pointed emphatically at the invitation on the fridge. ‘You’ve got an invitation to do it and everything. Nothing’s going to change if you don’t say you’re sorry.’

  He had to give his son props – his pep talk execution was on point. And he was right, which was difficult to admit. ‘When did you become the teacher, little grasshopper?’

  ‘I’m just saying stuff you’d say,’ Bryce said with a wink. ‘And you always say to think positive and try my hardest. Take your own advice, old man.’

  Cohen laughed. Sometimes, his kid was just too much. ‘Did you really call James Alton?’

  His son nodded. ‘Sure did. He’ll be here by lunchtime.’

  The wedding ceremony was scheduled for three o’clock, with the dinner following at four-thirty and the reception starting at seven. If what Bryce said was true, then he would have time to brief Dr Alton on the ongoing cases he might hear from, explain that he knew absolutely nothing about his son’s meddling plans, and still be ready for the wedding reception with time to spare.

  Was he really going to do this? His son had intervened, for crying out loud. Given him one last chance to tell Paige how he truly felt. Could he get through to her before she was gone from his life forever?

  Something swelled in his chest, making him feel like he couldn’t quite get in enough air.

  Bryce was right. He had to think positive and try.

  ‘Is this just your way of trying to get your grounding sentence shortened?’ Cohen quipped, arching an eyebrow.

  Bryce waved a hand. ‘Nah. I’m just saying sorry, and trying to help.’ He paused. ‘Did I just get my grounding sentence shortened?’

  ‘We’ll talk when I get back from this wedding.’

  ‘You’re going?’ Bryce fist pumped the air. ‘Yes!’

  ‘Like you really gave me a choice.’ Cohen stood, pushing his coffee cup away. He stepped forward, pulling his son in for a tight hug. ‘Thank you, Bryce.’

  Bryce hugged him back, squeezing him dramatically. ‘I did it for both of us, Dad.’

  ‘You really do like her, too, huh?’

  His son nodded against his chest. ‘Yeah. So, a guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do.’

  Cohen pulled away to give his son a weathered look. ‘Tell me that’s not what you told Dr Alton.’

  Bryce shrugged, stepping back. ‘Nope. I told him you were going to the wedding to make up with the woman you love. And I told him she makes the best chocolate cake in the whole world.’

  Yeah, it was official. His son really was too much.

  Dr James Alton was all too eager to be a part of the romantic scheme to aid Cohen in confessing his love to the woman Bryce had told him about. A romantic scheme, that’s what he’d called it when he arrived. Looking similar to a silver-haired Albert Einstein, with a fancy for buoyant colors and busy patterns on his button-up shirts, the elderly doctor shone with the energy of a man half his age. His bright blue eyes twinkled, watching Bryce usher Cohen toward the back door of the clinic.

  ‘You’re going to be late.’ Bryce had exclaimed it numerous times while his father unnecessarily walked Dr Alton through a handful of patient files he probably wouldn’t need and a recap of how to use the computer system he probably wouldn’t boot up. Cohen was stalling. He knew it. But he struggled with handing over the business he’d singlehandedly maintained for over eight years, even if those reins were given to the man who had taught him everything he knew.

  But if Bryce could see through his time-wasting tactics, that meant James could as well, and Cohen didn’t want his own insecurities to be mistaken for the belief that his mentor couldn’t handle the clinic for an evening.

  ‘Thank you for this,’ he said to the older man. He meant every word. Cohen might never have had it in him to make that call and ask him for help, but he was more grateful to Bryce than he could ever explain. Bryce knew him too well, and he’d known Cohen would make flimsy excuses to avoid having to face Paige again. The boy had done the only thing he could – he removed the excuses from the equation. That, to Cohen, showed more courage and selflessness than he thought a ten-year-old should possess. It only made Cohen prouder.

  ‘Don’t mention it, Cohen.’ Dr Alton beamed, making hand motions to shoo him toward the back door. ‘Jazz, Bryce, and I have got this. You just get yourself to that wedding on time.’ God, he made it sound like it was his wedding he was going to be late for. ‘Go on, now.’ Jazz bounced excitedly at the older veterinarian’s feet, thrilled with a new audience to show off to.

  ‘I’ll do what I can,’ Cohen promised.

  ‘Oh, and Cohen?’

  He turned around to face James Alton again. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘When you make up with your lady friend, I’ll gladly be paid for my time in chocolate cake.’

  Bryce laughed the whole way home, bouncing through the path between the clinic and the house like an adolescent on a sugar rush. ‘Dad, do you even own a suit?’

  He playfully pushed the boy in through the door of the house and up the stairs into the master bedroom. ‘You really have no faith in my abilities to handle this, whatsoever, do you?’ Wryly, he tossed the closet doors open and pushed the hangers aside to reveal a few garment bags hidden in the back of the closet.

  ‘You can use all the help you can get.’ Bryce shrugged but there was a glint in his eyes when he said it. ‘You’ve got a tie?’

  ‘Yes, I own a tie,’ he replied, feigning disbelief that his son would even need to ask. ‘A few, actually.’ He pointed to the top drawer of his dresser, where Bryce set to work laying each one out on the bed.
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br />   ‘Which one are you going to wear?’

  Cohen stared at the selection after unzipping the garment bag in his hand to reveal a simple black suit. It wasn’t fancy, or expensive like the one Alex Livingston wore, but it was all he had to work with. ‘The purple one, with the silver pinstripes.’ He thought back to the day Paige had shown him the wedding cake, and he was sure she’d said Allison’s chosen colors were purple and gray.

  His quick response obviously piqued Bryce’s interest. ‘Does that match what Paige is wearing or something?’

  ‘It might.’

  ‘Good job, Dad.’ His son held his hand up for a high-five. ‘Attention to detail – I like it.’

  ‘Impressive, huh?’ He grinned. A moment later, his smile faltered. ‘But maybe I’d better go without a tie.’

  ‘Why?’ Bryce’s forehead crinkled in confusion.

  He couldn’t bring himself to admit that he hadn’t had a need to wear a suit since the boy’s mother was alive. Stacey had also been the one to tie his ties for him, and there had been no reason to learn how to do it himself before now. ‘I’m not very good at tying them up,’ he said instead. ‘I’ll just go without.’

  Bryce seemed to mull his explanation over, then pointed to the en-suite bathroom. ‘Go get dressed. I’ll be right back.’ The boy bounded down the staircase without another word.

  Cohen obeyed him, changing into the suit. He was relieved it still fit him well after all the years that had passed. He vowed to update his formal wardrobe once this night was over. He stepped out of the bathroom and took in his reflection in the floor-length mirror behind the bedroom door. The man who stared back at him looked confident and prepared to handle whatever the night threw at him.

  Cohen hoped he could pretend to be that man long enough to confess his feelings to Paige.

  Bryce clambered up the stairs sounding like a herd of elephants, bursting into the room with his tablet in his hand. He stopped, staring at his father. ‘You look weird in a suit.’

  ‘Weird?’ That wasn’t a good sign. It was a white dress shirt and a black suit. How bad could it be? ‘Good weird or bad weird?’