by Mimi Grace
Duncan stopped. He wasn’t really sure where he was heading with this runaway speech, this was never meant to be cohesive. But nobody had thrown tomatoes at him yet, and his sister wasn’t giving him a signal to shut up, so he continued.
“But I think the biggest thing you taught me is I don’t want a love like yours.”
Again, he looked at his sister to gauge how far he was going. Though she looked melancholic, there was no indication that he needed to quit while he was ahead.
“I thought love only equaled strife, like it was supposed to be hard and filled with angst, and I’ve run away too often from anything close to that. Which I think can be a good thing because you avoid horrible relationships. But you also give up early because you anticipate the bad…”
Duncan looked up at his audience. “Even when the woman is the most creative, vibrant person you know. You end up pushing her away or not saying something because you’re scared that it’ll end badly. But how is that fair to her or me, for that matter?”
Stepping away from the podium without his notes, he said, “Like how can someone who makes you feel so happy simply by being in their presence be wrong for you? Maybe I haven’t been reading the recipe correctly. Maybe I’ve been using rice flour instead of the regular kind, and I gave up without giving it a second look…”
The narrative thread had been lost.
Duncan clenched and unclenched his jaw before raising his empty hand like he held a glass. “To Trudy and Malcolm Gilmore.”
He walked back to his seat on wooden legs and sat down as the next person spoke.
“Can,” his sister whispered to him from the side of her mouth. “I expect a friend and family discount at a certain bakery soon?”
He looked at Gwen, his heartbeat refused to settle, and he wasn’t sure if he said anything. But in his head, he heard a resounding, “yes.”
Chapter Twenty
Retta had been planning what she’d say to Duncan all weekend. However, when she thought of something, his possible rejection would immediately follow. She wanted to be succinct but not leave words unsaid. And clarity was of the utmost importance.
On the day she was making her profession, she’d taken to roughly handling dough and blasting pop music through the kitchen to distract herself from the knowledge that he was a few meters away. You can’t slip into pining and stressing when someone is singing in falsetto over a synth.
Even when the day officially ended, she had to sit tight another hour as the technician she’d been waiting months for, fixed the water heater. The man was talkative and went on about the new uniforms the company had bought them. It distracted her for a bit. However, by the time he completed his task and handed her the invoice, she was about ready to jump out of her skin.
“Thank you so much,” Retta said as she quickly guided the man to the door. “I really appreciate it.”
“Yeah, it’s a common problem,” he said, halting before they reached the exit. “You know, one time I was called out to a swanky little neighborhood. The houses over there are so big that my clients didn’t hear all the rattling, and their basement ended up flooding.”
“Oh, wow. That’s unfortunate,” she said, as she swung the door wide open. “You have a great evening now.”
Once alone in the bakery, Retta made sure her face looked as good as it could after a thirteen-hour workday and slung several canvas bags and her purse across her body. The weight of her belongings on her literal shoulders was the only thing that made her feel like she wasn’t going to float up and wither. Her stomach was in knots, and she wished she hadn’t eaten so many ginger cookies in the past hour.
While doing her final scan of the store, she spotted a screwdriver the technician must’ve left. She’d decided to call about the forgotten item the next day when a knock sounded from the front. Expecting to find the man who’d left her store not even ten minutes ago, Retta opened the door with a smile and the tool in hand. But her expression dropped into a frown when she saw who stood there instead.
“I come in peace,” Chris said as he raised his hands and studied the screwdriver she wielded.
Retta dropped her arm. “What are you doing here?”
Her ex-boyfriend was the last person she expected to see today.
“I was in the neighborhood, and I saw the lights were on,” he said.
So, he decided to swing by to say hello?
“Can we talk?” he asked after several seconds of silence.
This was probably a bad idea, but she walked back into the bakery and gestured for him to follow.
After removing two upturned chairs from the table and taking a seat, Retta asked, “How are you doing?”
He rubbed his palms against his thighs. “I’m okay.”
His beard looked dry and misshapen, his clothes were wrinkled, and his eyes had bags underneath them.
The last update Retta heard about her cousin was that she was in Portugal, but there was no way that Chris didn’t know that. So, he wasn’t here for an update on his ex-fiancée’s whereabouts.
“Why are you here, Chris?”
He took a breath and said, “From what I understand you were the last person to speak to Irene before…”
“Yeah, I was,” she said.
They sat in silence until he asked, “Can you give me an idea what she said to you? About me.”
Retta swallowed hard. She didn’t want to betray her cousin’s confidence. If she had something to say to Chris, she would reach out. “I can’t do that.”
He nodded, but his eyes welled.
Oh, crap. This was the first time she was seeing him cry. He always seemed too in control and self-important to display such emotions.
She shoved her hand in one of the bags she was still wearing, searching for tissue.
“Chris, I’m sorry—”
Her words were cut off by a choppy sob he let out.
“I-is. This. How. You. Felt. When. We. Broke. Up?” he asked loudly as tears soaked his chin.
There was a part of her that wanted to balk at his question. She didn’t spend close to a year acting like everything was peachy just to admit to him she’d been angry and hurt over their breakup, but he was clearly distraught. Whatever modicum of pride she’d tried to maintain through cool indifference didn’t matter anymore. The man was open-mouth crying in front of her.
“Kind of,” she said, handing him a napkin. “It didn’t really come at the best time for me. And you dating my cousin after didn’t help.”
After wiping his tears and blowing his nose, Chris sat there staring off into the distance.
This could be her in a few hours on her best friend’s couch once she talked to Duncan, but then she’d figure out how to move on just like she’d moved on from Chris.
“Can I give you some advice?” Retta asked.
He didn’t respond, but he looked at her, waiting.
“I would give her time. I don’t know if she wants anything to do with you, but the worst thing you could do right now is try to pursue her,” Retta said.
Chris nodded, taking a shuddering breath before standing up and walking to the door. She followed behind with growing buoyancy in her body.
“Thanks for speaking to me,” he said, once he took a step outside. “I know with our past you didn’t have to.”
Retta nodded. “Have a good evening. And good luck.”
The resounding ring of the bell as she closed the door made her feel like she'd finally shut that chapter in her life. Now for the new one.
It was close to the end of the workday for Duncan when he went outside to change the sidewalk signage. As it was customary, he looked over to the front area of the Dutch Oven. He didn’t know what he expected to find there other than cold concrete. It had only been a few days since the divorce party, but he’d contemplated long and hard about how he’d approach Retta.
His impulse was to walk over to her store or show up at her apartment and tell her what he was feeling. But if he was goin
g to give this relationship thing a go, he had to do it right. Romance was the name of the game.
He thought of doing something with Post-it notes or sending her tickets to the drive-in theatre screening Rocky next month. With all the options and what was at stake, Duncan had become nervous he’d blow his chance. However, he’d given himself till the end of the week to make a move.
As he stood back to look at his altered sign, the door to Retta’s bakeshop opened. She should’ve been home at this time. Dammit. He could quickly step inside the gym and avoid her, especially since he hadn’t been to his barber in weeks, but he didn’t want to. It had been too long since he’d seen her.
Pushing back his shoulders, he waited for her to exit. However, when someone stepped out, it was Christopher. Duncan stopped breathing. Her ex was technically single now, but she wouldn’t get back with him. Would she? Retta’s profile was only visible for a few seconds before she closed the door.
Maybe she wasn’t over him, and this profession that he’d been constructing in his head was not going to be well received. The thought made his stomach roll. Wouldn’t that be some sick joke to have the woman he wanted to seriously be with for the first time not want him back?
As Christopher passed him on the way to the parking lot, he looked Duncan in the eye and nodded. Was that smugness? Had he made a formal request for her to forget how he’d broken her heart? Before Duncan could talk himself out of it, he was eliminating the distance between him and the front of her store. The door swung open almost immediately after he’d knocked.
“Wh—” Retta’s eyes widened.
God, how he’d missed gazing into those eyes that looked like churning vats of dark chocolate.
“Hi,” she said as she adjusted one of the several bags strapped to her body. “Come in.”
Good sign. She was receptive to talking to him.
“How are you?” he asked.
She studied him for a moment before saying, “My day just turned around.”
Fuck.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and attempted to gather his thoughts. “T-that’s good.”
“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to—”
A cell phone rang from the depths of one of Retta’s bags. She smiled as she waited for it to go to voicemail.
“Sorry,” she said, clearing her throat. “Actually, do you want anything? Water, coffee, orange juice?”
“No, I’m good.”
“Okay, great. Um. What I was saying before was, these last few—”
The ringing started up again.
Retta smiled through a wince. “Give me a second.” She shoved her hand into her purse and rummaged through it.
“We can talk later,” he said over the phone's noise.
Now that he was thinking clearly again, he knew he couldn’t do this off the cuff. If he was competing with another man, he had one shot to make her believe that he was the better choice.
“No,” she said, her voice echoing in the empty bakery. “I mean if you don’t have to be somewhere right now, I’d like for you to stay.”
She dropped her bags on the floor and got low to search them.
“Hello?” Retta said as she finally found her phone and answered it. “Wait, right now?”
Her suddenly shrill voice made Duncan freeze where he stood and study her.
“Oh, God. Okay, I’m coming. Just remember to breathe.” Once she hung up, she looked at him and said, “I have to go.”
“Retta, is everything okay?”
She spun in circles. “Where are my keys? Where are my keys?”
He spotted them on the ground nearby and picked them up for her.
“Thank you,” she said as she retrieved her belongings from the floor. “My friend’s in labor. Her partner is stuck in traffic on the other side of town, and I just need to get to her.”
“Let me help you,” he said, reaching for her bags.
They left the bakery together and jogged to where she’d parked her vehicle. However, looking up and down the length of the street, he couldn’t spot her tiny gray car. She pressed the alarm on her keys several times but there was no responding siren.
“Oh my God,” she whispered as her chin trembled. “It finally happened. They towed my car.”
“Everything’s going to be okay,” Duncan said, already on the move toward the gym. “Head over to my truck. I’m gonna grab my keys.”
Duncan returned before Retta had a chance to do more than pace and open up the notes on her phone from the one birthing class she’d attended with Kym.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said again as he backed out of the parking lot and followed her directions to Kym’s house.
He said it so confidently that she chose to believe him. They arrived at their destination in less than ten minutes.
Charging through the front door Kym had left unlocked, Retta shouted her friend’s name. She found her doubled over her dining room table, groaning into the crook of her arm.
“Oh, thank God,” Kym said as she looked up. “I thought I’d have to Little House on the Prairie this shit.”
Retta tried to hide her panic at seeing the puddle underneath her friend’s feet. Instead, she approached and helped her straighten. “Okay, let’s go have this baby.”
“My hospital bag is in the coat closet,” Kym said as she pushed her braids over her shoulder and attempted to catch her breath.
“I’ll grab it when we pass by,” Retta said, as she gently walked her friend forward. Unfortunately, at this pace, the baby would be teething by the time they arrived at the hospital. “Honey, I need you to move a little quicker.”
“I”—Kym breathed hard and doubled over—“can’t.”
“I can help,” Duncan said, stepping forward.
Both women looked up. Retta had forgotten he was there, but he was holding Kym’s beige hospital bag and looked like he could move a mountain if he really wanted to. An unexpected calmness settled over her.
“Who the hell are you?” Kym asked, sweat coming down her face.
“This is Duncan.”
“Oh. You guys back together? For real?” Kym asked as she reached for him.
He immediately drew closer and scooped her into his arms. They both ignored the question but briefly shared a glance. That was yet to be determined. But now wasn’t the time to think about all of that.
Once Kym was seated in the backseat, she said, “So, Duncan, I wish we were meeting when I’m not in pain and dilating, but it’s good to put a face to a name.”
Retta tensed. She didn’t need her friend revealing too much about her feelings for Duncan before she had the chance to do it.
Kym temporarily abandoned the topic when another contraction hit.
“Remember the breathing,” Retta said, twisting to look at her and perform the quick, sharp breaths with her.
After the cramps subsided, her friend said, “You know, I told Retta that I thought the whole fake relationship thing was ridiculous, not to mention attending her ex’s wedding. But everything worked—”
Kym groaned and Retta wanted to join her. She hadn’t told Duncan anything about Chris. He probably thought her even more pathetic for attending the wedding. But when she braved a glance at him, he didn’t look remotely shocked at the information.
“You know,” she said.
Duncan looked at her. “Know what?”
“That Chris is my ex.”
“Yeah, I found out at the engagement party.”
Shaking her head, she said, “Why didn’t you say anything?”
He shrugged. “We had an agreement for me to attend a wedding. It didn’t matter whose it was.”
“Oh, fuck,” Kym said before she let out an extended groan that turned into a scream.
“We’re almost there,” Duncan said as he turned onto the street the hospital was on.
When they finally arrived at the emergency room, Len was already there, and medical professionals took over.
Len a
nd Retta surrounded Kym as she pushed and yelled.
“I can see the head,” a nurse said after some time.
Retta wiped her friend’s brow. “You’re so close.”
Kym tightened her already death grip on Retta’s hand, but dammit, at this point, if her friend wanted to throw her against the wall, she would let her.
Thankfully, none of that was necessary because a baby was born minutes later, wailing and healthy.
Duncan stood up the moment Kym’s partner emerged from the back of the emergency room still donning his hair cover. They’d briefly seen each other as the nurses had rolled Kym to the back. From the way the man was smiling and practically skipping toward Duncan, he knew it was good news.
Regardless, he asked, “How’s everything?”
“It’s a boy,” the new father said loudly.
A few people in the waiting room whooped and clapped.
“And he’s good?” Duncan asked. “Kym?
“They’re both doing well,” he said, barely containing his giddiness. “Thank you so much for getting them here.”
He then moved in for a hug that Duncan accepted.
“There’s no need to thank me. I’m glad I was there at the right time.”
When they separated the man said, “I should let you go and enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Duncan briefly looked past the father’s shoulder. “Oh, I thought I’d wait for Retta and drop her off.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll drive her home.”
Nodding, Duncan ignored the burning in his chest and said, “Congratulations and all the best.”
When he strode out of the hospital, he found the sun setting but the air still warm. This was for the best. He’d head back to the gym and make sure closing went smoothly, and he’d spend the rest of the evening figuring out what he’d say to Retta. A few paces from his car, someone called his name from behind. Turning around, he found Retta running toward him, her black dress billowing around her.
“You okay?” he asked, jogging to meet her halfway.
“I’m fine,” she said, breathing heavily and smoothing down her hair. “I’m a godmother.” Her beautiful smile lit up her entire face.