by Frankie Love
“It’s your business too.”
I groan, leaning back in my chair. “Don’t you see? The bakery is all I have. And I thought... I thought...” I shake my head, the tears I’m fighting welling upside me.
“What sweetie?” Hazel says, rubbing my back,
“I thought,” I try, my shoulders shaking as an onslaught of tears escape. “I just thought for a few minutes tonight, when I was with Charlie, that maybe, just maybe, my life could be about more than cupcakes.”
“Oh, Mags,” Greta cries. “But you make the best cupcakes in the state. And that’s saying something.”
I press my hands to my face. “I don’t want cupcakes,” I manage to sniffle out.
“What do you want?” Hazel asks.
“I wanted Charlie.”
There’s nothing else to say to that. We’re all in the back room of the bakery, we all heard Charlie say this was just fun and games to him. I knew that when we started.
Well, I knew it in my head, but I think my heart held on to something else. Something permanent. My heart held on to a hope that began blossoming back when I was eight years old and he saved my kitten.
Hope that I’d never let go of.
Until now.
“I think this was for the best,” I say, reaching for a napkin and wiping my eyes. “I think this needed to happen if I was ever going to get over Charlie.”
“And sleeping with him? That convinced you?”
I close my eyes, remembering the way his beard nuzzled between my thighs. The way he licked me up and down and pulled me closer to himself. The way he pressed me against the fridge and let me sink against him nice and slow.
How will I ever get over this man?
I open my eyes, knowing I have no other choice.
He doesn’t want me like I wanted him, and after Clive is done chewing him out, I doubt he’ll ever look in my direction again.
“I need to move on. Stop living in a world where I’ll magically get my fairy tale ending.”
Greta nods. “We’re behind you, one hundred percent.”
“Totally,” Hazel agrees. “We could set you up on dates. Although that might be a bit too soon considering what happened tonight.”
I shake my head, resolved. “No, it’s perfect. Set me up on any date you can find. I need to get over Charlie, fast. Bring on the men.”
I may not believe it in my heart just yet, that I’m really ready to move on ... but I don’t think I have any other choice.
I’m sick of not having the life I want.
And it’s high time I go out and chase it.
Chapter 7
Charlie
I don’t know what’s gotten into Maggie the last few weeks since our disastrous hook-up, but she won’t so much as say hello to me. I go to Two Sister’s Bakery-- regularly-- order a donut, a cup of coffee, and try to talk to her, but she isn’t having any of it.
In fact, she is hell-bent on dating every man in town. I swear to God, I’ve seen her out to brunch, dinner, and drinks. It’s a small ass town so I know everyone, and most of the guys are obviously tourists. Different guys every time, and whenever she meets my eyes while she is out with one of those guys, she lowers her gaze quickly, barely registering my existence.
This morning is no different. I head into the bakery for my regular and Maggie smiles politely in my direction, but it isn’t a real Maggie smile. I thought I didn’t know her all that well, but I’m realizing I know an awful lot about her. I know when she’s happy and when she’s pretending. I know when she’s faking it with the guys who keep showing up here like a revolving door. And I know when she is intentionally avoiding me.
“I’ll take a maple bar and a medium coffee,” I tell her.
“Coming right up.”
“Hey, Maggie, are you busy tonight?” I ask. “I mean, I know Clive put the hammer down but--”
“Actually, I am. I have a date.”
I bristle at the words. “That’s what you said the last four times I asked.”
She shrugs, handing me a to-go cup. I used to get a for-here cup, but ever since that night together, I’ve been shown the door.
“Look,” I say, leaning over the counter. There’s a queue behind me, but it’s killing me, how she’s refusing to give me a second chance. “Surely you can squeeze me in.”
She raises an eyebrow. “I’m sure you have plenty of other options if you’re looking for a you-know-what.”
“A what?” I ask.
Deadpanned, she answers, “A good time.”
I furrow my brows. I haven’t been with anyone since I’ve been with her. And I have no intention of being with anyone ever again. I know Clive thinks I’m nothing but an ass, but I want to be more than that. I want to be enough for Maggie.
“Look,” she says, lowering her voice as she hands me my coffee. “You don’t owe me anything, Charlie.”
I shake my head, confused. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means what happened, happened. No regrets, I swear.” She blows a loose strand of hair from her face, an adorable habit she’s had since as long as I can remember. “But you don’t need to take me out to make this less awkward. Besides, Clive would kill you.”
“Let me worry about Clive,” I say. “And this is only awkward because you won’t talk to me.”
She juts out her chin at the long line behind me. “I gotta get back to work. And besides, according to you, we were just messing around, right?” She purses her lips, brows raised in an oh snap way.
It’s like a gut punch. I try to say more, but she is already greeting the next customer and I am pushed toward the register where Greta stands, grimacing.
“It’s on the house today,” she says. Maggie hears and shoots her sister a frown. Leaning over she says, “Uh, sorry Charlie. That’ll be 4.50.”
Rolling my eyes at the sister-duo who is apparently ganging up on me, I throw down a ten-dollar bill and walk away.
As I reach the door, Kimber, a woman I’ve gone out with plenty in the past, enters the bakery. “Hey, Charlie,” she purrs, patting my chest. “Long time no play.” Kimber’s the local yoga teacher, and I can feel Maggie rolling her eyes twenty feet away.
I clench my jaw, hearing Maggie behind the counter groan, “Are you kidding me with that?”
“Hey, Kimber, maybe you should go somewhere else for breakfast,” I say pushing her out the door and following right behind. The last thing Kimber needs is a cup of coffee Maggie spits in.
Before this morning, I thought Maggie was naive or oblivious when she has been dating so blatantly in front of me. But, oh boy, was I wrong. Apparently my words, we were just messing around, which were intended to get Clive off her back, clearly cut deep to her heart.
And that kills me.
I may be a fucking fool, but I still know enough to realize where I screwed everything up.
“So are you gonna come with?” Kimber asks, playing with a strand of long hair as we stand on the sidewalk outside the bakery.
“Uh, what?” I ask, running a hand through my hair.
“To breakfast.”
I raise a brow. “No.” I lift my pastry bag and coffee cup. Then on second thought, I don’t want her to think I’m not going because I already have grub. “I’ll be straight with you Kimber, I’m not intending to go anywhere with any woman that isn’t Maggie.”
Now it’s Kimber’s turn to raise her brows. “That mousy thing in there?”
I nod. “Exactly.”
“And does she know that?”
“Not just yet.”
“So, the town man cake is off the market because he’s fallen for a baker?” Kimber pouts playfully. She and I were never serious. Hell, I’ve never been serious with anyone, but I appreciate her understanding. “That’s pretty cute, you know that, right?”
“Truth is, I fucked it up. But I’ll win her back.”
“Aww, look at you, you’re all grown up,” Kimber says, giving me a friendly hug. Then lookin
g over my shoulder, she adds, “So, what are you going to do to win her over? Because from where I’m standing, I only see her scowling in our direction,“ she says, twisting her lips, practically the same way she twists her body when doing complicated yoga poses.
I turn, looking into the bakery window. Kimber’s right, Maggie glowers in our direction, practically ignoring her customers.
“I’ve never had to win a woman over before,” I admit.
“Well good luck Charlie. I’m sad to know you’re off the market, but I’m happy for Maggie.”
She waves goodbye as Greta comes out of the bakery, her apron covered in flour and a fierce look on her face.
“Charlie, what’s wrong with you?” Greta asks, slapping my shoulder.
“Wrong with me?” I take a sip of the coffee, not ready to piss another woman in this family off.
Greta rolls her eyes. “You can flirt with women anywhere you like, but not right in front of my little sister.”
“I wasn’t. I mean, Kimber isn’t... Look, I don’t want to hurt Maggie. She matters to me. Hell, I never realized just how much I cared about her until she decided to drop me from her life. I want to fix this. And I will.”
“Maggie isn’t just some woman you can woo over with a beard-gasm.”
I smirk. “How would you know?”
Greta just looks at me like I’m the village idiot. Which, okay, maybe I am.
“Okay, I get it. Maggie hates me. Is that your point?” I groan. “I know she’s been on more dates the last two weeks than the last two years, so maybe I should take a hint. But dammit, it’s not my fault I just figured out what I want.”
Greta sighs. “Look, Maggie’s never had a serious anything. Sure, she’s gone on a bunch of blind dates, but she comes home from every one of them comparing the men to you.”
I stiffen at her words. I want to believe them, but shit, it’s like since I was with Maggie, I’ve realized I know literally nothing about women.
“If that’s true,” I say. “Then why won’t she let me talk to her?”
“She’s scared of getting hurt. And considering your reputation, it’s not a huge surprise.”
“I got that part,” I say, huffing. I get that my biggest hurdle with Maggie is convincing her that I am more than the sum of my past. That I can be her man in the future.
Greta cocks an eye at me. “Have you talked to Clive yet?”
I run a hand over my beard, my jaw no longer bruised from where he punched me, but damn, things between us have been more than rough the last few weeks. We’ve both had our own group tours booked, so we’ve overlapped seeing one another a bunch. That’s helped, but every time I walk in the office it’s tense as fuck.
“I guess I should go find out,” I tell her.
Greta nods, then walks away, toward the shop. Then she stops and turns back. “Hey, Charlie?”
“Yeah?”
“When I first started dating Luke, Clive was livid. Do you remember?”
I smile, thinking back to that time. “We were out on that trail, down from your parents’ house.” I shake my head. “We had a few beers, I think Luke’s plan was to get Clive drunk before he broke the news that he was sleeping with you.”
Greta’s eyes water at the memory. “Then what?” she asks, knowing this story by heart, but I know it does us both good to recount it. It’s like, now, when we think about Luke, we always seem to remember what we lost, instead of what we had.
I keep going, “Clive told Luke he needed to back off. And Luke told said no one was telling him what he could or could not do when it came to the woman he loved. None of us had used that word before--love, and so when Luke said, we all fucking froze. He hadn’t even said it to you yet. But it was a done deal. We were fucking eighteen years old, idiots in so many ways--except for Luke. He had it all figured out.”
“He was always one step ahead, wasn’t he?” Greta presses her lips together. And then she reaches for my arm. “Look, I know you’ve had a hard time since Luke died. We all have. But before we lost him, you were a different sort of man, Charlie. Still an ass, sure, but in a confident-jock sort of way. You were less...”
“Less of a man whore?”
Greta smiles softly. “Yeah. So maybe remind Clive of that.”
She’s right of course.
“You think I’m good enough for Maggie?”
“I know Luke thought so. He always thought you two would end up together, same as me. And I know Maggie has too, she’s held a place for you in her heart since she was a little girl. Right now she’s just scared of you really breaking her heart for good.”
I feel like I’ll fucking cry if I stand here any longer.
I pull Greta into a hug. “Thank you,” I tell her.
Knowing that I have Greta’s blessing means the world to me. And the fact that Luke liked the idea, too, tells me it’s time for me to man up and fight for the life I want.
There are no guarantees, and no one else is gonna give me what I want.
I have to go after it myself.
Chapter 8
Maggie
The dates are stupid.
In a million different ways, they are idiotic. I’d rather be doing a SUDOKU puzzle. And I’m terrible at math.
The thing is, these guys aren’t necessarily awful. They just aren’t Charlie.
And Charlie is off the table.
I end the call from my doctor's office and put my phone in my apron pocket.
If he was local man-cake before, he is definitely going to be asking for a to-go box for his slice when I tell him the news I just found out today.
I saw him the other morning at the bakery. He asked me for the twentieth time if I’d meet him to talk and I brushed him off.
Because I was scared.
Scared of what I was 90% sure of.
What I am 100% sure of now.
I’m pregnant.
Flashes of the condom breaking have run through my mind a thousand times since I missed my period. We never actually talked about it when it happened because two seconds later my family walked in on us.
Not that it changes anything now.
Now, I am carrying his child.
I lean against the fridge where Charlie and I had sex. I try to remember the exact moment when he looked in my eyes and I thought I saw something real, something forever.
I could have sworn I did.
Our foreheads touched, and I felt like in that moment I was his.
Then everything changed. My family walked in and he called me a hookup and that was it.
Until now.
Now...
“Maggie? You back here?” Greta calls, pushing through the doors from the front of the bakery. We’ve closed for the day and now it’s just her and me. “Sweetie, what’s wrong? You look like crap.”
I shake my head. “It’s nothing.” I lie. I never, ever lie to my sister, but I can’t help it. The idea of telling her about the baby before I tell Charlie feels wrong.
She frowns. “Well, something’s wrong. Are you PMS’ing?”
I snort. “What cures do you have for that?”
“Two-layer German chocolate cake.” Greta reaches lifts the lid on a cake plate.
Laughing I say, “You know I was the one who made that, right?”
“I know. You do the sweets, I do the savory. But you haven’t even tasted it.”
Reaching for two forks and then handing her one, I say, “You mean you haven’t even tasted it.”
“It’s been sitting here all day. Why didn’t you put it out this morning?”
I bite my bottom lip. I came here extra early this morning and stress-baked. “I was in the mood for something special.”
Honestly, it may sound strange, but knowing I’d get the blood test results today, I wanted to make sure, even if Charlie didn’t want to raise this baby with me, that I would always remember this day as something extra sweet. Special.
German chocolate cake special
Which, ever since I was a little girl has been the epitome of special.
“You only ever make this on your birthday. And it’s not March, so what gives, Mags?” Greta hops onto the counter and I follow suit. With the cake between us, we dig in.
“It’s complicated.” She takes another bite, contemplating my words. “I’m your best friend. I can handle complicated.”
I really want to tell Charlie first, but Greta has been with me through everything. Losing our parents, and then losing Luke a few years later. She helped me through college and took a risk with me in opening the Two Sisters Bakery. We tell one another everything.
But this? This feels different.
“Look,” Greta says. “I won’t push. I just want to make sure you’re okay. Is it the business? I know I took extra time off the last week when Milo was sick, and then Lucy had the parent-teacher conference--”
I cut her off. “I would never brood about that. Besides, I don’t make this cake when I’m pissed. It’s a celebration cake.”
“True.” Greta’s eyes narrow. “So, what are we celebrating?”
I raise an eyebrow. “I thought you said you weren’t going to push?”
Greta sticks her fork in the cake. “True enough.” Lifting another bite to her mouth, she adds, “Will I get to know eventually?”
I laugh at this, my shoulders actually shaking. “Eventually, everyone will know. I promise. I won’t be able to hide it for long.”
“As long as I’m not the last to know, I’ll be happy.”
“I’ll tell you before Clive, how’s that?” God knows I’ll avoid that conversation for as long as possible.
“Perfect,” Greta says. “Now can you help me with something?” she asks pulling out her phone.
“Uh, sure, what?”
“So, I want to date again and downloaded Tinder but don’t know which photo to use for my headshot.”
I snatch her phone away. “You can’t use that,” I say, pressing down on the icon on her screen.
“Why not?” she asks indigent. “I’m lonely.”
“I know,” I tell her, handing her back her phone with the app now deleted. “But that isn’t the way to get back in the saddle. I’ve been going on blind dates for two weeks and let me tell you, there isn’t anyone in this town for you.”