DUMPED

by Lucy Hawkins

  As Alex ran away in tears, Charlie and the rest of the guys had laughed at how much of a pussy he was. Hank’s hand tightened on the handle of the basket, and his stomach knotted. He hadn’t stuck up for him. Sure, he hadn’t participated, but he had just stood there and let them hurt Alex. Afterward, he’d been so sick with guilt that he’d tackled Charlie to the ground. They hadn’t spoken more than a dozen words to each other since.

  Hank grabbed a few bags of flour and half a dozen packets of yeast and then walked to the counter in a daze. No wonder Alex had always seemed so angry toward Hank. He’d probably thought he was just like the rest of the guys on the team. And maybe he had been. If nothing else, he’d been a coward. Too scared to let people know he was gay; too busy pretending to be someone else, not that he knew who he was back then. But he’d known better than to let those things happen to Alex.

  That was why he’d kept an eye on him after that day, making sure no one could hurt him again. Hank had been at every one of his theater performances and every one of his choir concerts. Alex had never noticed, of course. He’d never know just how badly Hank wanted to get to know him. That he wanted to share things with him—things he’d never shared with anyone else, because Alex was the only one who would understand.

  And then, eventually, he’d hated Alex Haynes. Each time Hank had gone to a performance and not been noticed had been a wound to his soul. And when they had interacted in class, Alex had always acted so much better than him. He’d grown to resent Alex instead of desiring him. Until, of course, he’d turned up at the inn three weeks ago and reminded Hank that he was the most beautiful man Hank had ever seen.

  Seven

  Alex

  Alex could barely see as he walked into the kitchen of The Lakeside, boxes of cake samples balanced precariously in his arms.

  “What’s all wrong?” Hank asked, his tone slightly alarmed as Alex deposited the boxes on the counter.

  “The cakes!” Alex exclaimed, as though it were obvious. He opened one of the boxes. “I can’t pick any of these! I wanted vanilla cake with strawberry champagne frosting, but what she gave me was absolutely appalling. The white chocolate raspberry and crème brûlée aren’t much better.”

  Wiping his hands on a dish towel, Hank walked over to inspect the boxes. “Can I try?” he asked.

  “Well, duh. That’s why I brought them over here. I’m seriously about to pull my hair out over this.”

  “That would be a shame. You have nice hair.”

  The smirk on Hank’s face sent a thrill of pleasure through Alex. He rolled his eyes at himself. It was just a compliment. It didn’t mean anything. What’s more, he didn’t want it to mean anything.

  Hank grabbed a fork, opened the first box, and took a bite. He pursed his lips, his brows furrowing. Instead of saying anything, he just moved on to the next one, and then the next. Occasionally, he went back for seconds, but none of them managed to change his slightly-disappointed expression.

  “Dude, you’re killing me,” Alex said, after Hank tried the amaretto cake with buttercream frosting a third time.

  “I don’t know what to say. You’re right. The cakes aren’t good.”

  Huh. He’d expected Hank to tell him he was overreacting and that everything was fine. After all, if there was one thing he was known for, it was being overdramatic and blowing things out of proportion. Yet here Hank was, telling him that none of these cakes were going to cut it. Fear dropped in his stomach like molten lead.

  “What am I going to do?” he asked, his heart racing in his chest.

  It was a stupid question to ask Hank, of all people. Wedding planning was a foreign concept to him. He didn’t know the first thing about finding a perfect cake that guests would rave about well after the wedding.

  “We could always make the cake ourselves,” Hank said with a shrug.

  Alex’s eyes widened, and he stared at Hank, his mouth open in utter disbelief. Did he not understand the magnitude of the situation? This wasn’t some hillbilly shotgun wedding they were planning, even if it technically was a shotgun wedding. This was for Hazel and her wealthy, gorgeous, soon-to-be husband who happened to come from one of the most prestigious families in New York.

  “Hank, I’m serious. I’ve tried every bakery in the area—hell, every bakery within fifty miles of here. None of them are going to cut it. I’m going to have to go back to the city.” Cold sweat beaded along his brow as he spoke quickly. “I’m going to have to go back to one of the bakeries I used to buy from, and they haven’t seen me since before my own wedding, or not-wedding, but I’m running out of options and I—”

  Hank pressed his hand firmly to Alex’s lips. “I’m serious, too. Don’t freak out just yet, okay?”

  All Alex could do was nod. Hank’s hand was warm and his touch sure. His breath stuttered for a moment before Hank pulled away and walked to the pantry. He returned with a round tin.

  “It might take a little trial and error, but we still have a couple of weeks before the wedding.” Opening the tin, Hank cut a sliver of the cake inside and served it up on a small plate.

  “What’s this?” Alex asked, one eyebrow tugging upward.

  “A lemon cake I made this morning. It’s great with cream cheese frosting, or even a white chocolate buttercream,” Hank said with only a hint of arrogance.

  So, Hank was a baker now. Alex knew he could make bread, but there was a difference between bread and wedding cake. He eyed Hank skeptically before picking up the fork and slicing into the piece. The sweet lemony scent hit his nose before the moist, melt-in-your-mouth cake overtook his senses. It was heavenly. The perfect mix of flavors: sweet, with enough tart lemon to balance it out.

  “Oh my God.” Alex’s eyes slipped shut as he savored the cake. “Did you seriously make this?”

  “It’s one of Norma’s recipes I adapted. What do you think?”

  “It’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever had in my entire life,” he said, scooping up another bite.

  “I can make something else if it’s not right for the wedding.” Hank said seriously. “I don’t want to go against the theme or anything.”

  “I seriously never want to eat anything else ever again. This is perfect. We just need to choose the right frosting.”

  It was a done deal as far as Alex was concerned. If Hank could pull off the same heavenly cake at the scale they needed and in time for Hazel’s wedding day, there was nothing left to consider.

  “I can whip up some options later, and we can do a proper tasting tomorrow,” Hank suggested with a smile.

  “Perfect.” His chest felt lighter now that there was one less thing on his list he needed to worry about.

  He left the inn on a high. Though the morning had started out stressful and frantic, now, he seemed to be back on track. If only he could get those damn swans. That was the one thing on his list that seemed truly impossible. He’d offered frankly ludicrous amounts of money just to rent some for the day, but so far, no one had been able to help.

  When he got home, he found his mom in the kitchen.

  “How did the cake testing go?” she asked.

  Alex pulled up a chair and dramatically fell into it. “You would not believe how difficult it was to find the right cake. I went to a dozen different places and they were all horrible. Hank even thought so. I seriously thought we were royally fu—screwed. But then out of nowhere, he pulls out this lemon cake, and I swear to you it was the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. Hands down. Like, not even just counting food.”

  “Alexander!”

  He grinned up at her. “But anyway, he said he can do it for the wedding, and he showed me the lake house a couple of days ago. It’s really coming along well. He’s made it look great for Hazel and Aaron, and he said the other lake house should be done in the next couple of days, and—why are you staring at me like that?”

  The look on her face was hard to read. Like she knew a secret he wasn’t in on.

  “Oh, nothing,�
� she said. “I’m going to have a glass of wine. You want some?”

  “Sure. But don’t you dare nothing me. What is it?” He took the glass of pinot noir and then turned to face her as she took a seat at the table as well.

  “I’m just happy for you, sweetheart. That’s all.”

  Happy for him? What was there to be happy about unless—oh, no.

  “Let’s not even go there,” Alex said firmly. “I couldn’t be any less interested in him.”

  Why would she even think such a thing? Sure, Hank might not have been the monster he’d initially made him out to be, but there was no way in hell he had any other feelings toward him than friendly and professional. Besides, the man was as straight as they came, so even if he was interested—which he most certainly was not—it wasn’t like he could do anything. Even if he had been thinking about the way Hank’s hand felt on his lips all afternoon.

  “Well, why not? Sometimes having a crush is a good distraction. Plus, the man is yummy,” she said with a wink.

  “Oh, good God, Mom. Please don’t call Hank Morrison ‘yummy.’ Or any man, for that matter. He’s not a piece of meat.”

  She gave him a pointed look, and Alex would have liked nothing more than to sink into the floor. “He’s hot, you have to admit that. Half the women in town are dying to go on a date with him.”

  “Is that so?” Alex tried to keep his voice light, even though jealousy burned just below the surface. The idea that every woman in Redwood was fawning over Hank rankled. It was ridiculous. Hank didn’t belong to him. There was no reason for him to feel so protective.

  “Rhiannon says he’s not interested in dating anyone, though. She’s tried to set him up a few times, but he always makes some excuse or another to get out of it,” his mom said.

  Relief mingled with intrigue. Why would Hank turn down every opportunity to date? Did he have no interest in a romantic relationship? He didn’t really seem to have anyone close to him. Did he ever get lonely? Alex forced himself not to think about that.

  “Look, I’m not going to lie and say he isn’t attractive, but given how he treated me in high school, it’s hard to think of him in any other light. I work with him. Sure, he might be helpful, but he’s getting paid well for hosting this wedding, so he has to be. That’s all there is to it,” he said shortly.

  “If you say so, honey. I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just good to see you smiling again, that’s all.”

  He couldn’t argue with that. It was nice to be able to get out of bed in the mornings with at least a slight spring in his step. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be a normal, functioning person. It felt good.

  After he finished the last of his wine, Alex headed upstairs to catch up on all the work emails he’d put on the back burner. Sitting at his desk, he scrolled through them all. The florist was in order, as were the caterer, the waitstaff, and the bar staff. He even had extra staff coming to the inn a couple of days before the wedding to help with decorating and putting the rooms in order. All that was left to worry about was the actual execution of the wedding. And the cake. But he had faith that Hank would come through at the tasting and blow him away again.

  He scrolled through the remainder of his emails until his eye caught on the unopened email Grant had sent almost a week ago. He stared at the subject until his eyes glazed over, his finger hovering over the track pad, not quite daring to click and open it. Taking a few deep breaths, he steeled himself and then clicked.

  It was an apology. Long-winded and full of memories they’d shared. Alex couldn’t help but be affected by it. Grant mentioned the first time they’d met at the New Year’s Eve masquerade party, where he’d lifted Alex’s mask off at midnight and planted a kiss on his lips as though they were in some kind of fairytale. Alex had been under his spell from that moment, his vision so tainted by rose-colored lenses that he couldn’t see anything wrong with Grant. He was handsome and intelligent, he had money and a respectable job as a surgeon. Alex had thought himself so lucky to have him that he’d failed to see all the ways Grant had mistreated him.

  He saw them now, after weeks of nightmares and crying spells, and a hell of a lot of soul searching. There were nights Grant came home late, or not at all. Work was always his excuse, and Alex wanted to believe he was being truthful, but there was always the lingering fear it was something else. Life with Grant meant walking on eggshells, always watching the ways he interacted with other men, searching for some sign that he might have been having an affair. He must have been. There was no other reason Grant would have treated him the way he had.

  The email told Alex not to worry, that he hadn’t done anything wrong. As if it was that simple. As though Alex hadn’t spent the last three months wondering exactly that. Grant said he needed time to think about what he wanted, and he was scared to commit, and that was why he hadn’t shown up to the wedding. The way he said it made it sound so simple. A momentary mistake that could easily be brushed off, not the mammoth heartache it was to Alex.

  He signed off saying he wanted to talk, and he hoped their story wasn’t over. Alex closed the laptop and curled in on himself. He couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. He wanted to pick up the phone and call him right now, even if he didn’t know what he would say. They hadn’t spoken since the day before the wedding. Alex had spent the night at Hazel’s, saying it was bad luck to see them before the ceremony. He’d never gotten any closure. All he had now was an email that didn’t give him any of the answers he needed.

  Instead of calling Grant, he flopped on the bed and dialed Hazel. She was the only one who’d understand. After two rings, she picked up, her breath sounding like static in Alex’s ear. He frowned. Surely, she wouldn’t have picked up if she were—nope, he wasn’t even going to finish that thought.

  “Hey, what’s up?” she asked.

  “Um… do you have a minute?”

  “Yeah, give me a sec.” It sounded as though she were shuffling around, before she finally said, “Okay, I’m here.”

  “Are you sure? If you’re busy I can call back later.”

  “No, it’s fine. I was just running.”

  Oh, thank God. “Okay. Um… well. Grant emailed me.”

  “That shit! What did he say?” Hazel demanded.

  “I…” Alex swallowed hard. “He said he was sorry. He talked a lot about us. Our life together. Said that he was scared to commit but he wants to talk to me. He literally said, ‘I hope this isn’t the end of our love story.’ I mean, who does that?”

  “An asshole, that’s who,” Hazel said harshly. “He knows what he’s doing, Alex. As soon as he gets you back, it’ll be exactly like it was. Maybe he’ll act like he’s changed for a few weeks, but then he’ll start working longer hours, and you’ll have to beg him to come home at night, and you don’t deserve to wonder your entire life if he’s cheating on you.”

  She was right. Of course she was. But the tiny, broken part of Alex still wanted him back. He wanted the life they’d had together. Maybe Grant really had changed, and he knew how he’d behaved was abominable.

  “You’re thinking about it,” Hazel said after a moment.

  Alex’s cheeks burned. She knew him too well. “I just… I miss him. I was in love with him, and I think part of me still is.” Hazel started to say something, but Alex cut her off. “I know he isn’t good for me. I know he was a shitty boyfriend who always made me wonder if I was good enough for him, but we had a life together. Five years is a long time to be with someone.”

  Hazel sighed. “I know, babe. And if he were a better guy, I’d totally tell you to call him. But he isn’t. He hurt you over and over and over again. You deserve better than that. You deserve someone who makes you feel cherished and loved. Someone who supports you, not an asshole like Grant who makes you feel like shit about yourself.”

  “He didn’t—”

  “Yes, he did,” Hazel said flatly. “Every time we went out to eat, you only ate like… three bites of your food because
you said you were getting fat. I mean, I teased you about putting on weight when you two broke up, but you needed to. He got inside your mind and made you think so much less of yourself, babe.”

  Alex considered what she was saying. True, he’d been self-conscious about his body for the past five years, but that was only because Grant wanted him to look a certain way, because—oh. If he hadn’t, Grant would have stopped loving him. Stopped wanting him.

  “Can I ask you something?” he said after a moment.

  “Anything.”

  “Why did you let me stay with him? You clearly didn’t like him, so why is this the first I’m hearing about it?”

  “Oh, babe.” Hazel laughed softly. “This is far from the first time I’ve talked about it, but you were in love with him. You wouldn’t hear a single bad word about him. The number of times I heard ‘he only wants what’s best for me.’ You have no idea how many times I wanted to shake you until you listened to me.”

  Had he really been that blind to any criticism of Grant? The memories played like a slideshow—every time he had sat at home defending Grant to himself while Grant had probably been out fucking a different guy every night; every time he’d made excuses when Grant had berated him at a social function; every time Hazel had mentioned how cruel Grant was and Alex said he was just having a bad day. Yeah, it seemed he had.

  “I’m sorry for not listening to you before,” he said quietly. “If I ever start falling for someone like that again, I give you full permission to shake me.”

  Hazel giggled. “I’ll take you up on that. Just, for the moment, put your computer away. Put your phone away. Ignore him. Pretend like he doesn’t even exist. Take tonight and decompress. Love yourself.”

  They said their goodbyes, and Alex sat up in the bed. Love himself. He could do that. Starting with a bubble bath.