by Nina Lindsey
“Let’s go,” he said.
“Where?” She hurried after him as he descended the steps and handed his ticket to the valet.
“Anywhere but here.”
“But they haven’t even served dinner yet.” She glanced back at the museum. “Julia won’t like it if we leave.”
“She’ll get over it.”
Amusement flashed in Polly’s eyes. “You’ll risk unleashing her flying monkeys?”
“I’ll risk anything for you.” He winked at her as the valet pulled the Porsche up to the curb. “And I’m used to battling Julia’s flying monkeys.”
Luke texted Polly’s town car driver that she was with him before he guided the Porsche away from the museum. The tension lingering in his shoulders eased as soon as they were alone again.
He drove back to his house and instructed Polly to stay in the car while he went in to grab a couple of blankets. He put them in the trunk, then headed to a strip-mall pizza joint on the outskirts of Indigo Bay.
“Dinner?” Polly asked, lifting her eyebrow.
“Tyler can be an ass, but the kid knows his pizza like no one else,” Luke said as he got out of the car. “He claims this is the best pizza place in a twenty-mile radius. I’ll get one for takeout.”
He ordered the pizza and a couple of sodas, storing them in the backseat before driving toward the beach. The ocean fog had just started to descend on the coastline, but the setting sun cast a brilliant reddish-orange glow on the horizon.
Luke spread the blanket onto the sand and pulled off his tuxedo jacket. He wrapped it around Polly’s shoulders as they settled down. Draping her skirt over her legs, she hugged her knees to her chest and smiled at him.
“This is way better than a fancy dinner,” she said.
“Couldn’t agree more.”
They ate pizza and watched the sun set, as low waves rolled onto the beach and the salty sea air grew colder. The dampness made Polly’s hair curly again, just the way Luke liked it. Most of her makeup had worn off, and she had a smear of pizza sauce on her chin. She couldn’t have been more perfect.
He turned to look out over the ocean, rivers of red and gold cast by the sunset. Where would he be without Polly? What would he be?
His life would be everything it was before—work, meetings, negotiations.
No wrapping Polly in his arms. No ridiculously overcrowded clubs. No flirtatious texting. No palm reading, aura cleansing, or beatnik music festivals.
There would be no fun.
What if he changed? He’d spent so much of his life being like this that he didn’t know if he was even capable of change. He was old and hardened. Burned. And suddenly scared that he couldn’t offer Polly everything she deserved.
“I’m going to miss you when you go to Switzerland.” She wiped her fingers on a napkin and closed the pizza box. “But we’ll be completely finished with the remodel by the time you get back, so you’ll have a nice surprise waiting for you.”
“After you’ve hired more employees and can leave the bakery in someone else’s hands, I want to take you to Paris. Maybe this fall.”
She went still, as if he’d said something untenable. Cold prickled his skin. He frowned.
“Polly?”
For the first time ever he couldn’t read her expression, couldn’t see past the invisible veil that had descended over her eyes.
What the…?
“Luke.” She turned to face him, wrapping his tuxedo jacket around her body. “Do you remember when I told you I’d once wanted to go to a pastry school in Paris?”
He nodded, his apprehension intensifying.
“The day after my birthday, I found out there’s a special pastry-making course being offered in Paris,” Polly explained. “It’s being taught by several renowned chefs, including Pierre Lacroix. I applied for the course on kind of a whim, not thinking I stood a chance, but I got an email a few days ago telling me I’d been accepted. Part of the reason was that they liked the innovation I showed in the creation of the Declairs.”
Luke heard what she’d said but for a second, he couldn’t process it.
“The course starts in September but they recommend arriving earlier to settle in.” Wariness appeared in her eyes. “It’s a six-month series of classes followed by a three-month internship, with the possibility of a longer position.”
“That’s…” He should congratulate her, but he couldn’t get the words out.
“That’s great,” he finally said. “So what…what did you tell them?”
“Nothing yet. I wanted to tell you first. I have until the end of the month to send in my response.”
Silence fell. Luke could only look at her, stunned by the depth of his pride in her. When he’d approached her about helping with Wild Child, he’d thought he would be the teacher. Turned out he’d been the student all along because she’d been the one to teach him about true determination, loyalty, never giving up, and believing in yourself and your dreams.
But the thought of her leaving for almost a year, maybe even longer, made his chest knot like an old fishing line.
“Congratulations, Peach,” he said. “You deserve this.”
“Thank you.” She still looked wary. “Do you think I should go?”
“You’re questioning whether or not you should?”
“Wild Child is just starting to take off,” Polly said. “How can I leave right when it’s finally turning a profit?”
“Because…” The words died.
Because this is your dream, the one you put on hold years ago. Because it will open more doors than you can imagine. Because you’ll learn so much. Because you’ll do so well and be the star student. Because it’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Because it’s what you were meant to do.
“Because you can’t turn down an opportunity like this,” he finally said. “Who else knows?”
“Just Hannah.”
“What did she say?”
“She thinks I should go.”
“Will she stay in town and help with the bakery?”
“I don’t think so.” A shadow passed across her face, and she fiddled with a button on the tuxedo jacket. “I’d love for her to stay, to finally realize that the bakery belongs to her too. But I don’t think she will. Honestly, Luke, I don’t see how I can possibly go.”
An intense combination of despair and relief filled him. Because as much as he knew she had to go, he couldn’t stand the thought of being without her for that long.
It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He had no idea how it was supposed to happen, or even what it was, but Polly heading off to live in Paris while he stayed here and immersed himself again in the cold business of Sugar Rush without her warm presence to give him everything he didn’t have…
No. That wasn’t it at all.
He took a breath and tried to think logically, but all he could see was a Polly-shaped hole in his life that would never be filled by another woman. Ever.
And yet he couldn’t—wouldn’t—convince her to stay. He knew what this kind of opportunity meant for her career, her life. He’d once had the same kind of dream about one day making it to the big leagues, and though it was far too late for him, her dream—the one she’d put on hold four years ago—was now right in front of her. Waiting.
“You have to go.” The words hurt as he spoke. “Your mother would want you to.”
She looked at him. Jesus God, he hoped that glint in her eyes was a trick of the light and not tears. It took everything he had not to haul her into his arms and beg her to stay.
“What about us?” Polly picked up a fistful of sand and let the grains run through her fingers. “A year is a lot longer than three weeks.”
“Yes, it is.”
“You think emails and Skyping will get us through?”
His jaw tightened. The darkest scenario of all rose in front of him. The one where a hardened corporate CEO did the right thing and let a lovely young woman go so she’d be free to experience all that
her new life could offer.
“Peach,” he said slowly. “You need to go without an…attachments.”
Polly blinked. “What does that mean?”
“You’re twenty-five.” Luke pushed to his feet, his heart hammering. “You haven’t even had much chance to be young. You left college for your mother. You spent four years caring for her and trying to keep her bakery afloat. And you put your dream of Paris on hold for longer than you should have. You have to go. But you need to be on your own.”
“You mean without you tying me down?” Irritation flashed in her eyes as she stood and bent to shake out the blanket. “Will you break up with me if I go to Paris?”
“Of course not. But I want you to have a good time. To have fun. Not to be thinking about a heartsick CEO over here drowning himself in Cocoa Nibblers.”
Polly didn’t smile. She straightened, her features set as she leveled her gaze on him.
“Luke,” she said. “I love you.”
Her words poured through him like hot syrup, warming every corner of his soul. He shut his eyes and dragged in a breath.
“Even when you’re acting like a misguided ass who thinks you’re doing something right when you’re not,” she continued. “I love you.”
I love you too. The confession lodged in his throat. Of course he loved her. So hard that the thought of her leaving was a physical ache. He’d fallen in love with her the instant he’d turned from the pool table at the Troll’s House and caught her staring at him.
And now he wanted a lifetime with her—one in which he would wake up every morning to find her curled up against his side. One in which she’d insist he go “off the grid” so she could take him to hippie music festivals. He wanted her hybrid pastries, teasing smiles, and her unending belief that life is meant to be lived with joy.
He wanted a lifetime of Polly.
But.
He wouldn’t take anything about Paris away from her. And even with all they had together, he doubted his ability to sustain his commitment to Sugar Rush and make her happy at the same time. To give her the fairytale she both wanted and deserved. At least, not for years to come. And he’d sooner live his workaholic life for an eternity than ever…ever…be responsible for Polly Lockhart’s unhappiness.
“This is what I meant when I said I was proud of you,” he said. “You don’t just talk about doing things. You do them. And who knows what else will open up for you in Paris? I wouldn’t be surprised if Pierre Lacroix himself offers you at job at one of his patisseries.”
“And because of that, we can’t be together?”
“Polly, I’ve spent twelve years immersed in Sugar Rush business. 24/7. My father and aunt have constantly been on my case about taking a vacation. And not for one minute do I regret putting everything I have into the business, but you opened a whole new world for me. You made me wonder what I might have done if I’d looked up from my damned computer once in a while. But Sugar Rush is still my life. I’ll always be the CEO who puts the company first.”
“Even before us?”
Pain cut through him. He put Polly before, above, and beyond anything else in the world—especially himself and Sugar Rush. That was exactly why she had to go.
Her gaze shifted away from him, a shadow crossing her face. “Well, maybe you’re right then. Maybe I should go without attachments. Without you.”
“Polly—”
“I know we can make this work,” she interrupted, hugging the blanket to her chest. “I want to make it work. I want everything—you, Paris, Wild Child. I want museum galas and full moon festivals. I want to sleep in your fancy bed and make deliveries in my bakery van. But if you really believe we’re the same, then you need to want all that too. You need to meet me halfway. And if you won’t, then it will never work.”
“Polly, I want everything you do.” Frustration tensed his shoulders. “But I don’t want you to miss out on anything either. Look, you need to send in your response and make plans. Once you get settled in Paris, we’ll set up a schedule around your classes and—”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Polly stalked toward him and poked him in the chest. “I will not be on your schedule, Luke Stone. I love you. And I’m pretty sure you love me too, because what you said about being proud of me was the most extraordinary poetry I’ve ever heard.
“But if you want me, then you need to be all in. Full force. One hundred percent. None of this scheduling or wait and see crap. You give me everything you are, everything you have, because I won’t settle for less. Certainly not a half-baked, once-a-day schedule. And if you want this as much as I do, you’ll put us first and prove that not even the Atlantic Ocean is big enough to separate us. Nothing is.”
He couldn’t respond past the tightness in his throat. Tension thickened the air. Polly’s brown eyes filled with sorrow.
“Luke,” she said. “You just told me to tell you if something makes me feel bad. You said you’d do everything you can to make it right. Well, this is your chance. Because I feel pretty crappy right now.”
And yet he couldn’t make this right, not for both of them. He could only do the right thing for her.
“Peach.” Something stuck in his throat. He suppressed the desperate urge to confess he loved her too, that she’d put together all the pieces of his heart and made it whole again.
“Go to Paris,” he finally managed to say. “Have fun.”
She gazed at him, her eyes still bright, and then she turned and walked away. The ocean wind swept in from the water, turning his blood to ice.
Chapter 24
Life goes on.
Polly expected to mope around after last night’s debacle, nursing her wounds and feeling sorry for herself. Maybe even indulging in a jumbo-sized bag of Cheetos. But being a business owner meant that you couldn’t close for the day just because the man you loved was being a stubborn ass. If you could, female-owned businesses across the globe would probably shut down for good.
So after a sleepless, tearful night on her lumpy mattress, she hauled herself downstairs at dawn on Sunday to prep for opening. Pale light filtered through the layer of fog covering the sky as she let herself into Wild Child and locked the door behind her. Hannah had texted that she was up in San Jose for the weekend, the message reminding Polly that both her sister and Clementine would be leaving for good soon.
She set her bag on the counter. An air of desolation hung over the bakery, though she supposed that might be partly due to her mood. The tables and chairs were stacked to one side, and all the wall hangings had already been taken down and stored. Tomorrow they’d close for a week so Eleanor Pendergrass’s crew could come in and get the renovations work done.
Polly walked into the kitchen, focusing on getting things ready. She turned on the deep fryer and retrieved various batters from the walk-in refrigerator. She put tins of muffins into the oven and fried the pâte à choux for the Declairs. As she started making the chocolate custard, a knock sounded at the front door.
She went to answer it, surprised at the sight of Hannah on the other side of the glass. She unlocked the door to let her sister in.
“I thought you weren’t getting back until this evening,” she said.
“I caught a ride with a girl who’s going down to LA.” Hannah followed Polly back to the kitchen. “How was your museum event?”
Polly was tempted to lie, not wanting to relive it, but she didn’t have the energy.
“Not great.” She checked the timer on the oven. “I looked good, though. I looked beautiful.”
“So what happened?”
“Nothing. That was the problem.”
Hannah plucked a muffin from the tray and lifted her eyebrows. Polly turned back to making custard and started spooning it into a pastry bag.
“You might have been right,” she mumbled.
“About what?”
“About me thinking there might have been some fairytale between me and Luke.”
Embarrassment rose in her throat
. Hannah travelled and blogged about love traditions throughout the world, but as far as Polly could tell, her sister didn’t have any romantic notions about love. Maybe Polly should envy that about her too.
“There’s never a fairytale,” Hannah finally said.
Polly glanced at her sister. Hannah was staring down at the broken muffin, her forehead creased.
“Why did you leave?” Polly asked.
“I never fit in here. And I never liked it.”
“But that didn’t mean you had to leave me and Mom.”
“You were fine without me. You were so close, always happy at the bakery and watching your movies. I was just more comfortable with Dad. And there was nothing for me to do when we moved to Rainsville. I wanted to see what else there was.”
Maybe it was time for Polly to do that too. She took paper liners from a shelf and handed them to her sister. Hannah started layering paper onto the display baskets.
“Did you tell Luke about Paris?” she asked.
“Yes. He has some silly notion that I should go without anything tying me to Indigo Bay. Especially him.”
“Was it a break up?”
“No.” Polly bit her lip. “Not really. I mean, I don’t think so. He just seems to think he’d be stifling me or whatever, when he’s never done anything of the sort.”
“Well, it sounds good of him to want you to go freely. Honestly, that’s the best way to travel.”
The problem was Polly didn’t want to be free—not from Luke, at least. But she wouldn’t cling to him either.
Maybe Hannah was right. Maybe it was time to let the bakery go and pursue her life abroad. To reinvent herself as a woman of sophistication and worldliness, queen of the culinary arts. Few people had a chance to take such a step.
And as painful as it would be to close her mother’s legacy, especially after all that she and Luke had done to save the bakery, maybe sometimes you had to let things go. If she closed Wild Child, she wouldn’t have anything to come back home to, or a business where she could apply all the things she’d learn in Paris, but she could start over by herself. Somewhere. She just wished that thought made her heart feel whole and soft, not cracked like brittle, hard caramel.