Chapter 30
Thirty
Grace
“O w, shit!” I hiss, dropping the piping hot round cake pan onto the cooling table. Fuck, that hurt.
“What happened?” Sara Beth asks, coming around the corner.
It doesn’t take but a second of examining the oven mitt covering my hand to realize the issue. “Oh, there’s a hole so I just burned the hell out of my finger. Love that for me.”
“Ouch. Girl, I’m sorry. Come over here.” Walking over to the sink, she switches on the faucet. “Run it under the water for a bit, and I’ll go grab the first-aid kit.”
Standing at the sink, I avert my gaze to the ceiling, willing the tears to go away. I’ve been burned dozens of times, many way worse than this, which is basically a paper cut of a burn, and I’ve rarely cried. I need to pull it together. Sara Beth comes back with one of the white and red boxes we keep in a few places around the bakery, and she makes quick work of applying burn cream and a bandage. The whole time, she doesn’t say much, and she doesn’t ask me anything that would require much of an answer, which I appreciate. I’m sure she can sense that something is up with me, but she also must sense that I don’t want to talk about it.
Once she’s finished, we both get back to work while I pray like hell the second half of my day is better than the first.
Today has been a day from hell. From the minute I woke up this morning, I knew it was going to be trash, and I was right. My hot water tank is on its last leg and seems to be declining rapidly. As somebody who enjoys her showers damn near scalding, especially first thing in the morning, I wasn’t happy about starting my day standing under a stream of lukewarm water at best. Honestly, after that, I should’ve taken my cold, unhappy ass back to bed and stayed there, but of course I didn’t do that. If there’s ever a day to play hooky, it’s today, and I’m currently cussing out past Grace for not listening to her gut. I can count on one hand the number of personal days I’ve taken for myself since opening the bakery that didn’t involve a severely ill child.
Work-life balance? Don’t know her.
Then on my way to the bakery, after I dropped my kids off at school, the check engine light came on in my car. The car I just bought last year. Who knows what the hell caused that, but it’s probably going to cost a fortune with how things seem to be going for me, on top of the new water heater I’m going to have to buy a whole lot sooner than I was planning. My horrible morning continued as soon as I got to work, because why wouldn’t it? First, the employee toilet somehow overflowed, flooding the bathroom and part of the hall with at least an inch of water. I spent the first several hours of my morning cleaning up disgusting toilet water off the floors and sanitizing the hell out of everything, only to realize the issue must’ve been from a pipe bursting in the wall sometime overnight.
The kicker? It’s the wall that the bathroom shares with my office.
It wasn’t until I finished mopping and was finally able to put my stuff away in my office that I realized the extent of the issue. The entire wall and the bookshelves lining it are all water damaged. Thankfully, the plumber was able to get here quickly, but since it happened sometime in the middle of the night when nobody was here, the damage was already done. Most likely, I’m going to have to tear down that wall and replace it, and I don’t even want to think about what that’s going to cost me. Not to mention, hiring somebody to do it who isn’t going to rip me off.
The only company that comes to mind, who I know to be fair and trustworthy, is Conway’s, but I don’t think that’s going to be an option I explore any time soon. It’s been a few days since Cole walked in on me and Conway, but I’m no less embarrassed than I was that day. Not only because he caught us having sex—which yes, that is a big, humiliating part of it because, no matter how hot the idea of getting caught is in the moment, the reality of it is much more sobering, especially when the one catching us is my ex-boyfriend who also happens to be the son of the man penetrating me—but also because of the fact that I let myself get into another position where I’m inevitably going to get hurt.
As soon as Cole walked in on us, reality hit me in the face, and I couldn’t get out of that laundry room or Conway’s house fast enough. In the back of my mind, I’ve always been at least acutely aware of the fact that Conway and I could never work. Sure, I wore rose-colored glasses at all times, making myself believe I was okay with that or like we’d never have to face it. But coming face to face with my ex-boyfriend as his dad just finished coming inside of me put everything into perspective. It ripped those glasses right off my face and made that voice in my head, saying it could never work, louder and harder to ignore. Like, I couldn’t be blissfully ignorant to it all anymore. There’s no way this is going to end with me getting Conway. That’s his son .
How fucking stupid of me. I bitch and whine and feel sorry for myself because every guy I’ve ever cared deeply about has left me and broken my heart, and what do I do, jump into bed with a man who could never pick me. And not even because he wouldn’t want to, because I do believe that Conway cares about me, that it’s not just about the sex for him, but it doesn’t change anything. It may have been years since me and Cole broke up, but I doubt that makes it any less weird for him, seeing somebody he used to be in a relationship with be with his dad. In no universe do I see him being okay with this, and I would never make Conway choose between me and his own child.
I’ve purposely been avoiding Conway since that day, but certainly not for lack of effort on his part. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he showed up at my house unannounced with how much I’ve been putting off talking to him. But I know what’s going to happen when I do finally answer one of his calls, and I don’t want to face it yet. I care about him a whole heck of a lot more than I thought I would, and hearing him end this is going to hurt like hell. Hearing him say what I already know—that Cole’s his son and he can’t do that to him—is going to cut deep, and I guess avoiding him is postponing that pain, even if only temporarily, having yet another man I care about not choose me in the end.
But in the same breath, it’s also not fair to Conway to ignore him and shut him out. I need to grow up and just do it already. Rip the Band-Aid off.
Deciding to make that a task I handle after work, I go through the motions in the kitchen, attempting to get back on track for the day despite the late start we had. Luckily, there were orders that needed to be picked up, so it’s only the items we keep stocked up front every day that I have to focus on. With my phone connected to the speaker I keep in the kitchen, I turn on my favorite baking playlist—80s and 90s hits, of course—and clear my mind while I focus on my work. Baking is my career, yes, but it’s also always been so therapeutic for me. It’s calming and comforting, and an excellent source to direct my energy to when I need to stop overthinking or need to get out of my own head for a while.
“Grace.”
My name cuts through the music and my concentration as I’m wiping down the counter sometime later, and when I glance over in the direction it came from, Daya, one of my afternoon cashiers, is looking at me with a puzzled look on her face, and I’m wondering if that’s not the first time she’s tried to get my attention.
“Sorry, guess I was in the zone.” I breathe out a small laugh, brushing the strands of hair that have fallen from my messy bun out of my face with the back of my hand. “What’s up?”
“There’s someone here for you,” she offers.
“Oh, uh, do you know who it is?”
My pulse races, knowing I’m not expecting anybody, and if it were one of my siblings or my parents popping by to say hi, Daya would’ve already clarified that.
“It’s Mr. Levine,” Daya says cheerfully.
Despite having a feeling that’s who it was, it still makes my heart sink into my stomach anyway. So much for handling this after work. Realizing my time’s up, I clear my throat and set the wash rag down on the counter, forcing a smile on my face. “Thanks, Daya. Let him know I’ll be right out.”
Fuck, I don’t want to do this.
My palms are already shaky and sweating, and I haven’t even seen him yet.
Giving myself a moment to gather my thoughts and calm my racing heart—or attempt to—I make my way toward the front of the bakery. Chatter reaches my ears before the lobby comes into view, but despite how busy it is right now, my gaze still somehow finds Conway immediately. My throat tightens as our eyes meet. Looking like he came straight from the job site, Conway stands with his shoulder rested against the wall near the front entrance. A navy-blue baseball cap sits atop his head, with his sunglasses resting on the bill.
This is going to hurt.
Pressure builds behind my eyes as I walk over to where he’s standing, my heart a giant lump in my throat the entire time. “Hey,” I murmur softly, hating how awkward this is.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Conway states gruffly.
Guilt weighs on my chest, knowing I should’ve put on my big girl panties days ago and gotten this over with. “Want to go talk in my office?” I ask, not really wanting to have this conversation in my very full lobby.
Conway nods once, then follows behind me as I lead us into the mess that is my office. He freezes as soon as I flip the light switch on. “What the hell happened in here?”
“A pipe burst sometime in the middle of the night.”
“Grace, you’re going to have to get this fixed as soon as possible.”
I bite down on my molars, exhaling a sharp breath through my nose. “Yes, I’m aware.”
He shoves his hands into his pockets, gaze hard as he stares down his nose at me. “We need to talk about this.”
Panic twists in my gut and my heart is racing so fast it feels like I can’t breathe. I can’t do this. I can’t stand here and get dumped. I can’t allow myself to get my heartbroken again. Knowing what’s coming, I make a split-second decision to take control of the situation. Gain the upper hand to hopefully save myself a little of the hurt. It’s a long shot, and probably a crazy one, but the idea of hearing Conway tell me it’s over makes me want to puke.
Call it self-preservation, or maybe simple cowardice, but I just can’t look at him as he says the words that will crush me.
Clearing my throat, I hold his gaze even though everything in me is screaming to look away. “You’re right,” I say as steady as I can. “I think we both know this thing between us has run its course.”
Conway’s brow wrinkles. “What do you mean?”
“It’s been fun,” I go on, feeling the emotion pressing up against the back of my eyes. I cannot cry. “But I think Cole walking in on us was the wake-up call we needed.” The tip of my nose stings and the lump in my throat lodges itself deeper, making talking a challenge. Goddamnit, Grace. Get it together. “I think it would be better for everybody if we ended it here.”
I bite down on my molars, the pit in my stomach twisting painfully, causing a wave of nausea to hit me like a freight train. I can’t seem to drag in air fast enough, and my heart is trying to beat right out of my chest as Conway’s hardened stare doesn’t leave my face. With a furrowed brow, a tight jaw, and pinched lips, he doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and the silence is almost worse than anything he could say out loud. It looks like he’s trying to gather his thoughts, maybe wanting to take it easy on me, but I already did the hard part. He should be thanking me.
Finally, clearing his throat, he asks, “Who would that be better for, exactly?”
“Everybody,” I mutter. “I just said that.”
His nostrils flare as he releases a heavy sigh. “Who is everybody, Grace? You?” The sharp edge to his tone and the strain in his voice take me by surprise. “Because I can assure you, ending this would not be better for me.”
“What?” Heart stalling for a beat, his words throw me for a loop.
“You heard me, Grace,” he grits out. “That’s the last damn thing I want to do.”
All the air has been sucked out of my lungs, hearing him say that and knowing he probably even means it. But I also know it doesn’t change the facts. Thick emotion clings to the inside of my throat as I say, “It’s the last thing I want too, but it’s what needs to happen.”
“Says who?”
“He’s your son, and I’m his ex-girlfriend. This would never work, and we both know it.”
“No, we both do not know that.” His jaw flexes as he exhales harshly. “And those two things have always been true. Why are you acting like this is new information?”
I don’t understand what’s happening. This isn’t what he’s supposed to be saying. Conway came here to end things with me to save his relationship with his son, so why is he acting surprised by what I’m saying?
“Conway, are you being for real?” A flare of annoyance hits me in my chest. “Cole walked in on us having sex the other day.”
“Trust me, Grace, I know. I was there, and I’ve spent the last several days trying to talk to you about it and make sure you’re okay, but you’ve completely iced me out, and for the life of me, I can’t seem to understand why. Yeah, Cole walking in on us and finding out the way he did wasn’t ideal and, sure, he’s a little pissed off about it, but he’ll get over it. This is how Cole is. I’ll give him some space, then we’ll talk about it, and it’ll be fine.”
“A little pissed off?” I parrot, a dry, humorless laugh bubbling up my throat. “I’d say he’s more than ‘a little’ pissed off, Conway.”
Confusion flashes in his eyes for a moment before he asks, “Did you talk to him?”
“Um, yeah. He sent me such a sweet text that night after I left your house, letting me know exactly how he feels. He didn’t tell you?”
The wrinkles in Conway’s forehead crease, and any confusion from before fades from his expression, replaced with a look of what I can only describe as agitation. “No, he did not tell me that,” he mutters darkly. “Show me the message.” My eyebrows pinch, and for a moment, I don’t move. I don’t understand what’s happening. “Now, Grace,” Conway growls before adding in a much softer tone, “Please.”
Grabbing my phone out of my back pocket, I unlock the screen and find my text thread with Cole, my heart beating chaotically against my ribs as I reread the message before handing it over to Conway.
Cole: Real fucking nice, Grace. My dad? What the fuck is wrong with you? I knew you were pissed about what happened in college, but I didn’t think it was still an issue. Don’t you think we’re a little too old for games? Fucking my DAD to get back at me is disgusting. Congratulations, I lost all respect for you.
Conway’s grip on my phone is so tight, I wouldn’t be surprised if he broke the damn thing. After he reads the message—probably more than once with how long his gaze burns into the screen—his jaw pops as he hands the device back to me, and when I peer up at him, I’m taken aback by the fury staring back at me.
Except I don’t think it’s meant for me.
“I had no idea he sent that, Grace. I’m sorry.”
Shaking my head, I slip the phone back into my pocket. “You don’t need to apologize, but for the record, revenge was never a motive of mine when it came to you.”
He holds up a hand and clicks his tongue. “I never thought that. Clearly, he was upset, and instead of talking to me, he decided to take it out on you.”
Before I have a chance to respond, a knock sounds from the door, both of our heads turning in that direction. “Come in,” I call out.
Daya pops her head in, gaze jumping over to Conway before settling on me. “Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to remind you that my break is in a couple minutes and Sara Beth had to leave early today, so you said you’re manning the register while I’m gone.”
I smile over at her, completely forgetting that was today. I can’t tell if this is horrible or perfect timing, all things considered. Nodding, I say, “Of course, Daya. I’ll be right up.”
“Cool, thanks, Grace,” she murmurs, flashing me a toothy grin before leaving and closing the door behind her.
The tension in this small room is thick as I shift my gaze back to Conway. “He’s your son, Conway,” I repeat. “I can’t get in the way of your relationship with him, and I would never ask you to choose.”
“I don’t need to choose, Grace,” he huffs, clearly in frustration. “I know Cole, and he’s going to get over this.”
“What if he doesn’t?” My voice cracks. “What if he doesn’t get over it? What if it comes between you two? You’d end up resenting me for it, and I can’t live with that. I care about you too much to do that to you. I’d rather end it now before I fall for you more and end up getting even more hurt.”
“But I don’t want that,” he says in a low, gruff tone, taking a step in my direction. “I want to be with you, Grace.”
Against my better efforts, tears well up in my eyes, and I step back, putting more distance between us, and hold my hands up to stop him from following. “Please. This needs to end. It’s for the best. Please accept that.”
“You keep saying that, that it’s for the best, but it’s not. I think if you were to trust me, you’d see that Cole will get over this.”
“But what if he doesn’t, Conway?” I shout without meaning to, before taking in a deep breath. “I’m not willing to gamble with your relationship with your son. I care about you too much for that. Please . It’s done. Over.” My heart cracks down the middle as a tear spills over, falling hot down my face at the finality of it all and the emotion wrapped around my words.
Conway’s mouth opens and closes a few times, like he has more he wants to argue with me, press the issue more, but I don’t let him.
“I have to get back to work,” I murmur, looking away from him.
A few pregnant moments pass, and I can feel the weight of his gaze on the side of my face. But finally, without another word, Conway breathes out a sigh and walks out of my office. As soon as he’s out of sight, the dam breaks, a flood of moisture soaking my cheeks as I quickly shut and lock the door, pressing my back up against it. I give myself two minutes and not a single second more to get it all out before I wipe my face, take a couple of deep breaths, and walk out of there like I’m not heartbroken.
It’s for the best. Four words I keep repeating, yet they never sound any better.
God, this fucking sucks.