“I’m a grown woman, Wavy.”
Raising her hand, she cupped the side of my face. “Yes, you are, and I’m so proud of the woman you’ve become. You are as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside.”
“What did the doctor say?”
She closed her eyes. “The cancer has spread to my pancreas.”
Two years ago at age seventy-five Wavy was diagnosed with stage III breast cancer. The double mastectomy and chemo took a huge toll, but she made it through. Except for the years my grandfather and father died, that was the worst year of her life. During one of her last chemo treatments, she told me that no matter the results, she was not going through that hell again. At the time I was so angry. How could Wavy willingly leave me? She was the only family I had. The few relatives I vaguely remembered were scattered across the country. They were strangers. Wavy was my home. My safe haven.
I knew then I had to ramp up my efforts to open the bakery. I went into overdrive, working day and night to make our dream a reality. One month before we opened her doctor discovered a few spots on her lungs and liver. Standing firm in her decision, she opted out of another round of grueling treatment. I prayed that once she had enough distance from her last treatment she would change her mind. But witnessing firsthand her pain and suffering enlightened me, and taught me not to be selfish. This time I didn’t get angry. This time I understood, but was devastated.
Wavy had selflessly been there for me every single day of my life. Even in the middle of dealing with her own grief and heartache she had put me first. I wanted to make her happy. I wanted to show her how much I loved her. I wanted to make her dream come true. She was strong for me, so I would be strong for her.
As I sat trying not to fall apart in front of her, my phone buzzed with a text. Glancing down, I saw Logan’s name appear. The downside of having your personal phone also act as your business phone was that anyone could get your number.
“College boy?” Wavy said. I nodded and was about to ignore the text when she touched my arm. “I think you should answer him. I’m going to go in the kitchen and see what trouble I can get into.”
I blinked back tears. “But Wavy—”
“No ifs, ands or buts. We knew this day was coming and we’ve prepared for it. I don’t want either of us to waste time fretting or crying. Who knows, with all my piss and vinegar I may last another twenty years. Don’t keep college boy waiting.”
Before I could reply she stood, kissed my forehead, and headed toward the kitchen. Wavy was right. There were no loose ends between us. No words had gone unspoken. To wallow in despair would not cure her, so no need to waste time. One of the biggest lessons I have learned between my parent’s death and Wavy’s illness was to truly live in the moment. And at this moment my phone buzzed again, alerting me that I still had an unread text.
Logan: Are you free tonight?
What the what? The tingles from this morning reared their ugly little selves once again. Dumbass tingles. But there was no way Logan Heath was asking me out on a date.
Logan: Hello? Are you there, God? It’s me, Margaret.
I was startled by the laughter that burst out of me. The person I loved more than anything in the world just told me her cancer had spread, and Logan was able to make me laugh. It’s too bad he was a corporate asshole.
Me: That was one of my favorite books as a young girl.
Logan: That’s a book?
Again, the son of a bitch made me laugh.
Me: On the topic of dinner… No can do. I’m busy.
Logan: Are you busy now?
Me: Yes. Very.
Logan: For someone who’s busy you’re spending a lot of time texting me.
I replied with silence. Not more than a minute later my phone buzzed.
Logan: Ha-ha. The silent treatment. Nice.
Leaning back in my chair, I blew out a frustrated breath. I realized this was part of the act to lure me in so I would sell. I had to stay determined and not let my guard down. But Logan made that very difficult. Even knowing his flirting was all bullshit, it was still hard not to fall for it.
Wavy came out of the kitchen and started wiping down the countertop. “What did college boy want?”
“He asked me out for dinner. But I shut him down.”
Shaking her head she said, “Elipheleta, you are as hard headed as they come. You get that from your father.”
“And you.”
A prideful smile appeared across her face.
“At least consider talking to him. You’ve already given me my dream.”
“I’ll consider it.”
Watching my grandmother happily putter around the bakery only solidified my stance. Having somewhere to go each day made her feel alive and purposeful. I would never take that away from her.
Logan: Lunch?
Me: No.
Logan: Breakfast?
Me: No.
Logan: A snack?
His comebacks and persistence made me smile.
Me: No.
Suddenly, the bakery door swung open and Logan appeared with phone in hand.
“You do eat, don’t you?” he said.
I would have been swooning all over the place if the texts and showing up unannounced were about me and not my bakery.
I got up from my chair and joined Wavy behind the counter. “Of course, I eat. Just not with people who give me heartache…I mean, heartburn.”
Logan walked toward me. “You can’t just run away from this, Lip.”
“I’m not running. I’m declining participation.”
His gaze shifted to Wavy. “Can you convince her to at least talk to me?”
“She’s the boss. Besides, I tried, but she’s made up her mind.”
His baby blues focused back on me. “See, even this lovely lady thinks I deserve a chance.”
“What does she know? She’s drunk half the time.” I tried to keep the smile off my face.
We stared at each other for several seconds, each waiting for the other to cave. When it became obvious I would be crowned the winner, Logan turned and walked out. I gotta say, I was surprised he gave up so easily. Then my phone buzzed.
Logan: I’m not giving up on you, Slugger.
As if it had a mind of its own, unwanted warmth planted itself in the middle of my chest before its tentacles spread and reached every nook and cranny of my body. I gave myself permission to enjoy the sensation for a few minutes, then planted my feet firmly back on the ground.
The rest of the day I had difficulty covering up my heartache about Wavy. I did the best I could to honor her wishes and stay positive, but she knew it was an act. I was quiet most of the time, which was a clear indication that I was scared and hurting.
Logan stayed silent as well. No more texts or surprise visits to the bakery. And no, my heart did not skip a beat every time the door opened, only every fourth or fifth time. Actually, that was a little white lie. Listen, we did not have many customers, so there was a teeny tiny chance I experienced a mild heart stoppage each time I heard the jingling of bells. But that was only because I was excited to have a customer, who would buy a cupcake, thus creating business for the bakery.
As I closed up for the day I thought maybe by some miracle, Logan “The Closer” Heath realized he had met his match. I was a confident, strong, independent woman who would not be bullied or charmed into doing something I vehemently opposed. I was Norma Rae! I was Erin Brockovich!
Little did I know that the Logan respite was just the calm before the storm.
LOGAN ARRIVED AT THE bakery shortly after the doors opened. He looked so good dressed casually in a pair of dark jeans, black tennis shoes, and a crisp white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his perfect forearms. A large silver watch wrapped around his left wrist. Something about a man with strong arms wearing a big ‘ol silver watch turned me on. I had no problem envisioning that masculine watch above my head, holding me still, while the other arm was occupied elsewh
ere on my anatomy. If you know what I mean. A heavy looking black leather bag was slung over his shoulder. A shoulder I could sink my fingernails into while he shoved me against the wall and fu—
“Good morning, Miss Smacker. You’re looking beautiful as usual,” Logan said, standing at the counter, all cheery and smiley.
“This is only the third time you’ve seen me.”
“I’ve seen you way more than three times if you count our high school years. You’re always beautiful, even when swinging a bat at me.” He winked.
Good God Almighty! Was he informing me that he had, in fact, seen me stalk—I mean stare—at him for two years? If this was an attempt to rattle me it was not going to work.
I began my interrogation: “If you were so infatuated with me during high school, why didn’t you speak to me?”
“I don’t believe I said the word infatuated.”
“You said it with your eyes.”
He chuckled. “Funny.”
“Truth. Did you really notice me in high school?”
“How could I help not notice the cute blonde with red glasses sitting in the bleachers during football practice, and in the hallway, and in the cafeteria—”
I raised my hand to quiet him. “So you saw me and your ego had grown to such a large size that, of course, my presence was all about you. My question still remains unanswered.”
“I was afraid you might be too much for me.”
“Bullshit.” I shot back.
“Truth?”
“That’s all I’m asking for.”
Logan’s expression shifted from light and joking to sincere. “I was going through some stuff and didn’t have room in my life for anyone else.”
The genuine moment between us made me uncomfortable and curious. What type of “stuff” had the golden boy of Fort Johnson High gone through? From a distance his life had looked perfect, the kind of life they wrote movies about, or, at the very least, hour-long TV teen dramas. I was having enough trouble pushing down my attraction to Logan’s appearance. It was doubtful I could control myself if I found meaningful substance underneath his tailored clothes. I had to get back to our light and fluffy banter.
“Nonetheless, your comments are quite inappropriate,” I said.
“When did it become inappropriate to tell a woman she was beautiful?”
He had a good point and I did like being called beautiful.
“Well, it’s unprofessional,” I countered.
“I’m not working. Yet. I’d like to order a black coffee. You do have coffee, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sir? Formal yet saucy.”
I pursed my lips and tried to look annoyed.
Logan leaned back, examining the assortment of cupcakes filling the display case. “Le-e-et’s start with the lemon bomb.”
I went to the counter behind me, grabbed an insulated cup, and begrudgingly poured the cup of coffee. I placed the cupcake on a small neon green paper plate before pushing it, and the coffee, toward him.
“That’ll be three ninety-five.”
His eyes widened, looking at his purchase. “Wow, if the sugar doesn’t wake you up the plate color will.”
“It’s still three ninety-five.”
Logan slapped down a fifty-dollar bill. “I’d like to start a tab.”
“A tab?”
Ignoring me, he picked up his order and walked to the table at the far corner of the room, next to the large front window. He took a tentative sip of coffee then sat it and the cupcake down on the table. I watched, perplexed, as he opened the black bag and pulled out a laptop, two cell phones, and four chargers.
I walked purposefully toward him and said, “What do you think you’re doing?”
He sat down, picked up his coffee, and raised it in a toast. “Enjoying a cup of coffee and one of your tasty cupcakes. And when I say cupcakes, I mean the baked good.”
“What’s with all the electronics?”
“Well, since you’re so busy, I wanted to be at your disposal when you’re not busy.” He scanned the empty shop. “Is now a good time?”
My hands landed on my hips. “You can’t set up a mobile office in my bakery.”
“I have to work, Miss Smacker, and I am a paying customer.”
He took a long sip of coffee.
“This is your negotiating tactic? Wait out your target until she gets so annoyed she’ll sign anything to get rid of you?”
“Not to boast, but I’ve never had a woman want to get rid of me. In fact, just the opposite.”
Logan looked wistfully into the air. My guess, sexy memories of the long list of women he’s had encounters with. No doubt they were skinny, had big boobs, big hair, and legs for days, with cute Ivy League sorority names like Buffy, Felicity, and Poppy.
“You can’t stay here the entire day,” I snapped.
“Does that mean you’re ready to discuss Harper’s offer?”
“It means get out. You lurking here in the corner will unnerve my customers.”
“Your customers or you?”
“My customers. You’re already on my nerves.”
“Then let’s talk business.”
“I’m busy!”
He opened his laptop. “Do you have free WiFi?”
“WiFi my ass.” I stomped toward the kitchen.
“I’d like another cup of coffee.”
“Get it yourself!” I said, punching the swinging door open and entering the kitchen in a huff.
I paced the tile floor, taking several slow, deep breaths, trying to calm down. The unmitigated gall Logan possessed was astonishing. He unapologetically invaded my space and refused to budge. Who did that? I mean really. Who. Did. That? All that stuff about tingles, swooning, and electricity I now placed in the permanent bullshit vault. This was good and needed to happen. I wasn’t going to live every moment fearing that my undergarments would melt at the sight of Logan Heath.
I abruptly halted my angry pacing when the backdoor squeaked open and, seconds later, Wavy appeared.
I stopped fuming and slapped on a bright smile. “Good morning.”
Her gray eyebrows furrowed. “You’re awfully cheery today.”
“I like to think I’m cheery every day.”
“Uh-huh.”
Wavy eyed me suspiciously as she put away her purse. I needed to adjust my attitude quickly, so she wouldn’t get even an inkling that I was upset.
“Elipheleta, I want to show you the information about my trip.”
Wavy held up a brightly colored brochure. She had made plans months ago to go on a four day cruise to the Bahamas with her two best friends, Pearl and Mozelle. The three had known one another since grade school.
Yesterday, when she broke the news about the cancer having spread, I almost brought up the trip in order to talk her out of going. Fortunately, I had enough sense to bite my tongue. The ladies were to leave at the end of the week. Wavy felt well and her doctor had given her the green light. I would worry every second she was gone, but I wasn’t going to spoil her fun.
“We’ll spend one entire day on this private island and the last night on the ship we’re sitting at the captain’s table for dinner,” she said excitedly.
Unfolding the brochure, I studied the photos of lavish dinners, dancing, and people frolicking on a white sandy beach. “This looks amazing. You and the ladies are going to have a blast.”
“We will and there’s dancing to a live band every night.”
“I see that. I’m glad you’re getting to go,” I said with a hint of sadness in my voice.
Wavy took the brochure from my hands and folded it. “I want to thank you, Elipheleta.”
“For what?”
“For not trying to talk me out of going on this trip.”
“Part of me wanted to,” I timidly admitted.
She cupped the side of my face. “I know, but you didn’t, and that’s what matters.”
She paused and looked into my eyes, the unspoken
bond between us strengthening. Wavy dropped her hand and put her travel plans back in her purse.
“So, what or who has you wearing a hole in the floor?”
“Um…nothing and no one.” My gaze inadvertently flashed toward the door.
Wavy noticed, prompting her to take a peek through the small square glass window.
“Looks like college boy has made himself comfortable out there.”
“Yeah, well, not for long. I’m calling the cops.”
“For what?”
“Trespassing.”
“We’re open for business.”
“Then disturbing the peace.”
She took another look. “He looks pretty peaceful, Elipheleta.”
“Squatting. He’s a squatter.”
A slow deliberate smile crinkled her face. “I think you like having him around.”
“Have you already been dipping into the Riesling? I do not like having him around.”
“And I think he likes being around.”
“Really?” My voice rose several octaves, as if a gaggle of geese had flown overhead.
“Elipheleta, I may be old, but I can sense sexual attraction.”
“Oh, dear God, please do not talk about s-e-x in any way, shape, or form.”
“We are both modern women who can openly discuss our sexuality and not be ashamed.”
“No we’re not.”
“The first time that young man saw you he had a twinkle in his eye.”
“I’m feeling lightheaded.”
“And yesterday when he popped in by surprise your beautiful face lit up like a firecracker.”
“And queasy.”
“Plus, he’s just as handsome coming as he is going, if you know what I mean.” Waggling her wiry eyebrows, Wavy hunched her shoulders.
“My airway is constricting.”
“Since we’re on the subject…I’m curious, how would a modern woman handle the yearnings of a handsome man? I’m asking for a friend.”
“I gotta get outta here.”
“I want-—I mean, my friend wants—to be prepared in case a gentleman approaches and desires—”
Simultaneously, the bells over the bakery door jingled as my hand went up to stop this excruciatingly uncomfortable moment in my life. Saved by the bell. Literally.
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