Thirty-Two Going On Spinster (The Spinster Series Book 1)

by Becky Monson

  “You’re right. I didn’t have any right. I took a chance, went with my gut. I’m sorry. It wasn’t my place.” He shakes his head. “But if I hadn’t then you’d still be back at Spectraltech, taking smoke breaks with Brown, trying to find excuses to do anything but work.” He gives me a small smile.

  I look down at my hands again, now twiddling nervously in my lap. He’s right. He didn’t have any right to do what he did, but if he hadn’t gone with his gut, I’d still be back at Spectraltech, and miserable.

  I sigh heavily. “It doesn’t matter much at this point, though. Beth is putting the bakery up for sale next week,” I say and slouch in the seat, sadness balling in my stomach as I contemplate life without the bakery.

  “Why would she do that? With business picking up like it is?” He furrows his brow.

  “She said she needed to spend more time with family. And how did you know business has been picking up?” I look at him, confused. He hasn’t been coming to the bakery long enough to see how much business has grown. Actually, if I think about it, business started to really pick up only after Jared started coming in every day.

  “Well,” he looks down at his hands resting in his lap, “I did a little social media marketing for you guys.”

  “How’s that?” I say scrunching my face. I have no idea what he means.

  “I tweeted about the bakery.” He looks up and gives me little smile.

  “You what-ed?” I ask, still confused.

  “You know, tweeted. On Twitter?”

  “Oh, yeah. Okay. Twitter. Got it. I didn’t know tweeting was part of Twitter.” I look down at the table, feeling silly for my lack of social media knowledge.

  “Anyway, I have a pretty large following of people in the downtown area that I post information to. Business stats, growing trends, things like that. Anonymously, of course. So I thought I’d see if I might help you guys out by posting about the bakery. It appears to have worked,” he says, looking a little proud of himself.

  I probably should feel happy for his help, but instead I feel like he’s being overly smug about his masterful twittering skills, or whatever you call it.

  “Gee, and all this time I thought it was my daily special bringing in the business,” I say and give him a thin, bratty smile. “Looks like you saved the day at the bakery too, just like you thought you did at Spectraltech.”

  “Wait, what? Are you mad that I posted about the bakery? Geez, Julia. I was only trying to help.” He furrows his eyebrows at me, the frustration creeping back.

  My shoulders slouch, I’m feeling pretty down-trodden. I’m being so petty. I’m not a petty person, at least I never thought of myself as one. It doesn’t feel right on me. “No. Sorry. You’re right. You were just trying to help,” I say but don’t look at him. “Thanks for doing that. Anyway, I guess it was all for naught since the bakery probably won’t be around much longer.”

  “I still don’t understand why Beth wants to sell. Doesn’t she like it?” Jared looks at me, disappointment on his face.

  “No, she loves it. I don’t think she truly wants to sell the bakery. I get the idea that her husband wants her around more and wants her to sell. I think she’ll be devastated to sell it to someone who wants to make it into something else. She had this crazy notion I should buy it.” I shake my head, rolling my eyes.

  “Julia, that’s a great idea. You should do it.” He leans in toward me, a serious look on his face.

  “Me? Oh, please, that’s not going to happen.” I fold my arms and lean back in my seat.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I wouldn’t know how to run a bakery. I’m just not the kind of person who owns a business.”

  “Do you even hear yourself? You never give yourself any credit.” He looks at me, aggravation on his face and in his tone.

  “Why would I? Anything I’ve ever done in my life has practically been forced on me. I don’t do big changes on my own.” I look away from him. How is it that everyone can’t see this about me?

  “So, then do something on your own. Make a change.”

  “Yes, well, that’s something probably easy for you to do. Not me.”

  We sit in silence for a minute. Maybe he’s finally accepting the truth. I’m just not the type of person to own a business. It’s not in me.

  “You should do it, Julia. Take a chance,” he says, ending the silence, his eyes searching for mine. I look away. I don’t know how other people have so much more faith in me than I do. True, owning the bakery would probably be the most amazing thing in the world, but I know myself. I know my limits.

  “Anyway, that’s not the reason we’re here tonight,” I say, changing the subject back to our original topic.

  “Right, right …” he says absentmindedly, clearly having a hard time transitioning back.

  He sits up straight in his seat and clears his throat. “So, knowing what you know about me and the whole Spectraltech thing now, do you think you can look past it all and maybe forgive me?” He swallows hard. It’s probably hard for someone like Jared Moody to ask someone for forgiveness.

  “I don’t know,” I say quietly, looking away from him. “It’s just that, I feel like I don’t even know you, you know?”

  “Julia.” He leans his body into the table, toward me. “You know me. You do. Everything I told you about me, it was all true.”

  “But there was a big part—a huge part—that wasn’t true. I don’t know if I can get past that. Maybe I can…” I look down at my hands, indecisively.

  “Well, maybe is good enough for now.” I hear him reply and look up to see him smiling slightly.

  “Okay, then.” I put my hands together and place them in my lap, looking up at him with resolve. “I guess now you can sleep better at night, having gotten that all off your chest.”

  He gives me a confused look. “You think I went through all of this so I could sleep better at night?”

  “Well, didn’t you?” I raise my eyebrows at him.

  “No,” he shakes his head, frustration emanating from his face. “I mean, yes, I want you to forgive me, but not so I can rid myself of some guilt.”

  “Then, what was it all for? Why go to all the trouble?” Was Anna right? Was there more to this than I allowed myself to believe?

  “Julia, you’re so thick-headed sometimes,” he says, running his hand through his hair once again. “You don’t get it.” He looks at me, “I care about you. In all the years I’ve been consulting, not once have I ever met anyone like you. I couldn’t get you out of my head from the first moment I saw you and that stupid red stapler.”

  My eyes dart around the booth; I’m unnerved. “Oh,” is all I can say.

  “I … I want you in my life,” he says softly, uneasily.

  My heart starts to speed up. This is not what I was expecting to happen. I’m not really sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Confusion sets in quickly. I’ve spent so much time hating him for what happened, and feeling used and lonely and hurt. I had made up my mind that he was a jerk. But now, I see he wasn’t, at least not intentionally. And he cares about me. In my whole life, no one has ever said that to me to my face. Of course, I’ve had people care, but it’s always been implied, never said. It’s all a little too much, though. I didn’t come here expecting this, and so now I feel so torn and even more lost.

  “Jared, I’m sorry …” I hear myself say, as my voice trails off. I shake my head and look down at my hands, and I feel like I want to cry. My thoughts are a jumbled mess. It’s like that angel and devil on the shoulder thing they do in cartoons. Only it’s not an angel and a devil. It’s my mind and my heart. On one shoulder is my brain telling me he used me, lied to me. On the other shoulder is my heart, telling me he cares for me and I must care for him and to forget all the other crap.

  In my state of fighting with myself, Jared has slid around the booth, closer to me, then right next to me. He takes my hand in his, weaving his fingers through mine. I want to let go of his
hand and run away, but I want to stay there, too. It’s not fair that he’s doing this to me. Tears well in my eyes, evidence of emotions I did not want him to see.

  “Julia…” He places his free hand under my chin and lifts my face to his. He’s barely inches away from me. His face is so close, the way he smells, the heat from his body so close to mine. It’s breaking down my walls, even though I still struggle to keep them up.

  My eyes refuse to find his until I can’t fight it anymore and I look. A tear escapes down my cheek. He wipes it away with his thumb, gently. He puts his hand on my cheek, cradling my face. And then he moves his head slowly toward me, and softly his lips touch mine. He lets go of my hand and his other hand comes up to my face, holding it. His lips are soft and sweet and tender. They speak volumes about what he’s feeling. I give in to the kiss and stop fighting with myself.

  My heart flutters and skips, feeling victorious in the kissing. But my mind—my mind keeps bringing me back to the feelings which are still there—the feeling of being lied to, used. I ignore my brain and give into my heart, and I kiss him back, slowly at first, then I move my hands up to his back and pull him into me, tight. He responds by letting go of my face and putting his arms around me, pulling me into him.

  I can’t breathe, and I don’t want to think. This feels good, right even, but then so wrong at the same time. I can’t lie to myself. I want him, but I want who he was before. Not this Jared. Not the Jared I don’t trust.

  That’s the problem here, isn’t it? What’s been underlining my confusion is that I don’t really trust him. Isn’t trust the basis of a relationship? Isn’t that what the foundation should be? If we don’t have that, then what do we have?

  Suddenly my mind is clearing, the fog lifting a little, and I can see what I’m really struggling with here: Trust. I force myself to pull away from him, and I let out a small whimper as tears explode from my eyes. “Jared, I can’t. I’m sorry.” I grab my purse and I walk as fast as I can to the door.

  Outside the restaurant, my first impulse is to stop and breathe for a second, because I’m practically hysterical, but I don’t know whether he’ll follow me or not. So I just start to run. I run and cry all the way back to my place, and I probably look like a complete idiot. I don’t care, though.

  “Hey!” I hear Anna say from the couch as I walk in the door to my condo. Then she sees my face. “Oh no! Julia, what happened?” She gets up from the couch and comes over to me.

  “I … I … I …” I can’t talk. I’m practically hyperventilating from crying and running back from the restaurant. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror I had hung by the front door, and I’m a disaster. Makeup is running down my face, and my hair is a mess. I go over to the couch and fall into it face first, and sob.

  Anna is at a loss. She keeps asking me what happened, keeps asking if there’s anything she can do. I can’t even answer her. I just keep my head face down in the couch, crying my eyes out. She gives up trying to get me to talk, sits down on the floor next to me, and rubs my back intermittently, while I try to gather myself.

  After a while, I finally calm myself enough, and I move slowly to a sitting position on the couch. Anna grabs a box of tissues and hands them to me. I blow my nose and try to wipe my eyes. Tears keep reappearing, not as quickly as before, but they’re still there, streaming down my face. I try to think back to when I last cried like this, and I don’t even know. Even when I lost my job and then found out about Jared, I didn’t cry this hard. I was angrier then, so the crying was colder and harsher. This time it’s different, and I can’t pinpoint it.

  “Are you okay?” Anna asks me as I attempt to gather myself back together.

  “Yes. No. I don’t know,” I say through the hiccups and tears and snot.

  “What happened?” She furrows her brow, concerned.

  “He … he kissed me,” I force out, and the crying starts up again immediately. I breathe deeply, not wanting to go back to the hysterics I just came from.

  “Um, okay?” She gives me a strange look. Like why would anyone cry that hard over a kiss?

  “No, it’s just that …” I breathe deeply once again, trying to gather myself. “He said he cares about me.” The tears once again explode from my eyes.

  “Julia,” Anna says, frustration looming in her voice. “He cares about you and he kissed you. I’m confused. Why are you crying then? You need to start from the beginning.” She sits down next to me on the couch.

  I sit for a minute, breathing deeply, and try to bring myself out of the tears. Finally, I’m able to gather myself enough to tell her everything. And so I do. I tell her every detail.

  “Okay, wait. I’m still confused,” Anna says when I finish telling her what happened. “Why were you crying so hard?”

  “Because! Did you not hear anything I said?” Does anyone ever listen to me?

  “Julia, you’re confused, I get that. But he wants you to forgive him. He cares about you. He cares enough to try that hard. Most men wouldn’t do that. What are you so sad about?” She squints her eyes at me.

  “Because I don’t trust him!” I say loudly, slapping my hands on my legs for emphasis. “That’s the big problem here. I don’t trust him, and I don’t know if I ever can. It’s like my mind and my heart are fighting, and I can’t get them to just agree. I want him, but I don’t trust him. I’m a mess. A complete disaster.”

  “Wow. Okay, you’re being super dramatic.” She leans back on the couch.

  “Yeah, I know,” I say sniffling. “I can’t help myself.”

  “Look, Julia,” she says as she sits up and grabs my shoulders, turning me toward her so I can see her face. “I understand you don’t trust him. I understand you’re confused. What you need to do is figure out if life is better with or without him. That’s all there is to it. If you decide life will be better with him, all of the other stuff will resolve itself. He already told you he wants you in his life. So that’s what you need to decide.” She lets go of my shoulders and looks me seriously in the eyes, almost as if she’s talking to a child. Which, let’s face it, when it comes to relationships with the opposite sex, I’m a little behind, childish, even.

  “Okay, okay,” I nod my head. “That does help break it down.” I exhale deeply, my breathing becoming steadier. Just like that, she broke it down into one simple question. Do I want Jared in my life, or not? That’s it. How is it my little sister, who’s ten years younger than me, has so much more life experience than I do? It’s a little embarrassing really.

  “I think you should sleep on it,” Anna declares, patting me on the shoulder.

  “Yes, that’s probably a good idea.” I slouch back on the couch, exhausted from the day’s events. It really has been a long day. “Will you stay over? We could have a slumber party?” I smile sheepishly at her. The thought of being alone sounds horrible, plus I just got Anna back in my life. I need to take full advantage of it.

  “Okay, but only if you bake brownies.” She smiles brightly. “I’ve really missed them.”

  “Wouldn’t be a slumber party without them.” I smile back.

  We spend the night eating brownies and watching sappy chick flicks which do nothing to help my situation. I keep tearing up at dumb parts where no one should be tearing up. But my emotions are raw and at the surface, so I can’t help myself.

  I make Anna sleep in my bed, using my sad puppy dog face to guilt her into it. She agrees, but stipulates that if I try to snuggle even slightly with her she’ll push me off the bed.

  It’s late when we finally go to bed, and I know I’ll regret it in the morning since I still have to get up so ridiculously early for the bakery. My stomach sinks a little as I think about the bakery and I remember the conversation with Beth, which was only earlier today. It seems like so long ago.

  “I forgot to tell you something about the bakery,” I say to Anna as we settle in.

  “What is it?” She fluffs her pillow and nuzzles her head into it.

  “
When Beth told me about selling the bakery today, she told me that she thinks I should buy it. Don’t you think that’s crazy? Me? Running a bakery?” I say, still slightly stuffed up from all the crying I did earlier.

  “Doesn’t sound that crazy,” she says, her voice muffled in the pillow.

  “Doesn’t it? Jared said the same thing.”

  “Might be just what you need,” her voice slurs slightly at the end as she starts to drift off.

  We lie there in silence. Anna’s breathing becomes heavier, patterned. I stare at the ceiling, sleep not hitting me so quickly. Could I actually own a bakery? That doesn’t seem very spinsterly of me. Of course not much about my life right now seems very spinster-like. But to actually do something huge like that? It’s way out of my comfort zone. I’m not good at stepping out of my comfort zone as I’ve established so many times before. It took forcing me out of it to make the changes I’ve made recently. I was forced out of the basement, forced out of my job. No one is going to force me to buy a bakery, that will have to be up to me. Could I actually take the plunge, though? Maybe Jared’s right, maybe I could take a chance. Maybe Anna’s right, even if she did say it while half-asleep.

  Maybe buying the bakery would be just what I need.

  CHAPTER 17

  I think I’ve already established what spinsters do. They get stuck in their life, and then slowly they deteriorate until they’re left with only some cats as companions and a braless muumuu to wear. That’s my definition, at least. Webster has other ideas, but I won’t go into that again.

  I’ve learned that to move away from the dreaded life as a spinster means you have to get yourself un-stuck. I wasn’t in any place in my life to un-stick myself until Jared came into it and really mucked things up. But in a good way, I suppose.

  It took me some time to see, but it wasn’t until he came into my life and turned it upside down that I finally was able to make changes, and to find … well, me. I got out of my parents’ basement, got a job I love, and now I’m taking an enormous plunge (the biggest of my life thus far)—I’m buying the bakery. Yep, you heard right, I, Julia Warner Dorning, am going to do something completely unspinsterly and buy Beth’s Bakery.