Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
MOLLY
“I was born for this.” Tilly is hopping around the same way boxers do before a fight starts. “I spent all morning making sure I was ready,” she says, rubbing her hands together.
“How does one do that?” I’ve been slammed and running around nonstop, but the finish line is in the distance.
This year I’m not a competitor in the baking competition but one of the judges.
I’m also here to help if needed. Honestly, I'm practically hosting the thing at this point.
I have tables out with hot chocolate and mini cupcakes and cookies for people.
A few other shops have set up popup tents to hand out things themselves too.
People come in from the city to enter the contest or spend their day in Cheerful and go to the Bake Off.
I’m not helping anyone cook, but if there’s a question, I’ll answer it. It’s a pretty laid-back competition, at least in my eyes. There are some very competitive people that have entered, and although I want to say it's all in good fun, many would not agree.
"I haven't eaten all morning. I'm saving up room for all my tagging and judgery." This year I asked Tilly to be one of the judges. She’s not wrong; she was born for this.
"I watched you eat a bacon egg sandwich two hours ago."
"That doesn't count. You gave that to me. I couldn't be rude and not eat it." I hold back a laugh. If anyone can be rude, it's Tilly. In fact, I wish her rudeness would rub off on me. I'm far too polite for my own good.
"Then what would count?"
"I'd have to make it. I haven't made or gotten any food myself." That might be true, but she can't cook, and she didn't have to ask me for the breakfast sandwich. When her eyes lit up at the sight of mine this morning, I pulled the extra one out that I knew she'd want.
"If you say so," I tell her, not questioning Tilly's logic.
Her eyes drop to the open box in my hands filled with more cupcakes to replace the ones that have already been eaten. They were almost all gone the last time I checked.
"Tilly, try my cupcake." I pull one out and hand it to her.
"If you insist." She takes it from me and pulls the paper off the bottom before popping the whole thing into her mouth. No one can out-eat Tilly, and I don't have a clue where it all goes. She’s always full of energy, so it works for her.
I set the box down so I can replace the missing cupcake before I take it back over to the event. It’s a rare warm day, so the event is being held in the center of town instead of in City Hall, where we have an area just for events.
"Grab that box for me," I say to Tilly and nod to the box filled with cookies. "You girls can close up if you want and head on over," I tell Mia and Lucy. "Don't forget to put the note on the door."
The town knows why I'm closed, but the tourists won't if they try to come to the bakery. Both girls give me a thumbs-up.
"So," Tilly says the second we're on the sidewalk outside. We're not alone, but people aren't paying attention to everything we're saying either. "How are things with the boyfriend?"
"He's not my boyfriend," I say too sharply and cringe. Just give yourself away, Molly.
"Then what is he?"
"I don't know." I shrug, pretending it doesn’t matter. I haven't touched that topic with Noah. I'm too much of a scaredy cat.
For the past five days, Noah and I have fallen into a routine.
He takes me to and from work but only because it’s convenient.
After all, he’s in my bed each night. He cooks me dinner, and we watch a movie.
Well, we’ve tried watching movies. So far, we haven’t managed to watch more than a minute or two before we start mauling each other.
We both know he doesn't live here. In fact, he went back to the city yesterday morning.
He had a few things to handle and said he'd be back that night.
I told him not to hurry back, that I'd be busy with the competition.
I don't know why I said it, but it felt like it was the polite thing to do.
I have a terrible habit of doing the polite thing when I should actually say how I really feel.
"He didn't bring you to the bakery this morning, did he?"
"No, I came in early, and he has things to handle. He's got a life too."
Noah had taken my polite comment and run with it.
He didn’t come back last night after saying he got caught up.
He did text me good morning, but there’s been nothing more today, which is unusual for us.
Normally we text throughout the day, but maybe Noah only texts me because I initiate conversation.
He didn’t strike me as a big texter when I met him, and as of today, he’s proved me right.
I returned the morning text he sent, but since then it’s been radio silence.
"Don't make up excuses for that man in your head."
"What?"
"I know that look on your face. You’ve got an excuse for everyone. What excuse does he have for not taking you to the bakery today?”
"He doesn't have to have one."
"I know that, but it's also not what I asked."
"He went back to the city."
"Whoa, wait," Tilly says abruptly and stops walking.
"Come on, Tils. We need to drop these off and get to our table before the competition starts." It actually can’t start without me, but she doesn’t need to know that. I lift the box in my hand to remind her what we’re doing right now.
“Molly, seriously. You think we’re going to jump over that bomb you dropped?”
“It’s not a bomb. He doesn’t live here.”
“Then he shouldn’t have”—Tilly hesitates before glancing around to make sure no one is close to us. She drops her voice and leans in—“gotten all up in your homemade cherry pie filling.”
I snort a laugh. I want to say I agree, but Noah and I made no promises to each other.
Except that if he knocked me up, he'd take care of me. It would be an accident that forced his hand, and I don’t know what taking care of me entails.
That could mean a check in the mail each month, for all I know.
I'd love to have his babies. It’s a thought that should blow my mind, but it doesn't. I guess what I’m really feeling is that I don't want them by accident. I want them with a man that loves me and wants to raise them in this community. I don’t have anyone left in my family, but I have Cheerful. This town is my family.
"I can't talk about it right now," I tell her as emotion clogs my throat.
"Oh, I know. That's how you operate. Keep on moving so you don't have to think about it." She shakes her head. "I'm letting it go because we actually don't have the time, but this conversation isn’t over."
“Thank you,” I tell her, knowing at some point I will have to face this. Well, unless Noah never comes back.