Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 59146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
My phone buzzed at seven. I almost didn’t even look at the thing, but for some reason I glanced over to where I had it laying face up on the counter. Not Brett this time.
Inferno: Did you make it home OK?
I smiled as I wiped flour off my hands and picked up the phone.
Me: Made it. Threw out the cake. Packed his shit. Standard breakup protocol.
Inferno: Protocol needs whiskey. My place at the clubhouse. Friday. You bring the cake this time.
I laughed. The sound surprised me, bouncing off the tiled walls of my empty kitchen.
Me: I’ll think about it. Got a baby shower order to finish.
Inferno: Babies? Gross. Cake? Good!
I couldn’t help but laugh.
At ten I looked up from the register and saw Brett’s car. The leased black Audi idled at the curb across the street. Brett sat behind the wheel, phone to his ear, pretending not to look at the shop. The light turned green and he drove away. This, likely, was Brett being Brett. He’d do petty shit just to be noticed, then pretend to be all innocent. Well. I had better things to do than give him the satisfaction of acknowledging him.
Later that night I lay in bed and scrolled through my messages. Brett’s texts had tapered off into silence around two in the morning. Twenty-seven messages total. I didn’t read them, instead setting the phone on the nightstand. With any luck, he’d get bored of pestering me and get on with his life.
But the next day his car was back in the same spot, though at a different time. Just so happened to be while I was loading a wedding cake into a customer’s SUV. He sat there the entire time with the engine running, not leaving until I went back inside the bakery.
My phone buzzed during my lunch break. How was this even my life? No one ever called me. Brett never called me! Yet, now, after he broke up with me, he wanted to call and shoot the shit? Christ, my life!
Inferno: How’s the baby cake?
Shit. Seeing Inferno’s name light up instead of Brett’s was a welcome relief. I sent back a picture of the finished product, pink roses climbing the side of a white tier.
Inferno: Jesus that’s good. You’re hired.
Me: Already hired. By myself.
Inferno: Smartest person I know.
I put the phone away and ate my sandwich standing at the sink. I didn’t want to examine my feelings for Inferno too closely. Logically, there was no way for us to actually… date. Right? Did I want to jump from one man straight to another? I’d have to think about that. Though I knew I’d be meeting him Friday like he said. And I’d bring cake.
Thursday mid-morning. when very few people were in, Brett finally came into the shop. The bell rang and he strolled in wearing a blazer and jeans, hair perfectly tousled, smiling at me like we were old friends catching up. The blonde was conspicuously absent.
“Hey, Junie.”
“Juniper.” I didn’t look up from the display case. “What can I get you?”
“Just black coffee.”
I poured it and set it on the counter so there was no way he could “accidentally” touch me. He set a five on the counter and put the change in the tip jar.
“How’s business?”
“Good.” I wiped down the espresso machine. “Thanks for asking.”
He stood, sipping his coffee and looking around the shop like he was casing it for a listing. “Place looks good. You’ve done a nice job with it.”
“Thank you.” I gave him a smile that I didn’t feel, but I could be polite.
“Well.” He raised the cup. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“Any time.” I meant the opposite.
As he left, I watched him cross the street to his car and drive away, and I didn’t feel a thing. At least, I didn’t feel like a girl who’d been dumped less than a week ago on her birthday.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully and by closing time, I’d worked myself out of the funk Brett always put me in when he turned up here. Later that evening, my phone buzzed again.
Inferno: Heard a rumor there’s a baker in town makes a mean dinosaur cake.
I grinned at the screen.
Me: Heard a rumor there’s a firefighter who can’t dance.
Inferno: Former firefighter. And I can dance. You just didn’t give me enough room.
Me: Next time I’ll clear the floor.
Inferno: Next time. I like the sound of that.
He did that. Texted me daily. We never had intense conversations or anything. He just checked in and, without fail, made me smile. I remember he’d told me to tell him if Brett started showing up. I’d also told him I’d block Brett, but for some reason I couldn’t make myself do it. Did I think we’d get back together? Absolutely not. But for whatever reason in my messed-up head, I couldn’t make myself block him. If the texts and calls kept up, I’d have to.