2. Chapter 2
two
The walls were too thin.
The ones between my apartment and Max’s were, anyway, though the walls that bordered my other neighbor were magically soundproof. Every toilet flush, rush of water, creak of the floorboards—I was convinced he could hear them.
Logically, I knew he had better things to do than deduce my evening routine from the seemingly endless back and forth as I searched for my bedding in the various boxes.
I really did. And, logically, I knew he probably couldn’t hear my sound machine or my failed attempts to spit my toothpaste out gracefully when bedtime rolled around at seven-thirty.
But none of that kept me from lying awake on the lumpy mattress and staring at the ceiling. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I’d really only interacted with Max once before today, yet it had been enough. In the span of an hour or so, I’d managed to ruin his life.
That had to be some sort of record, right?
I’d been naive enough to think I’d never have to run into him again, that he’d never learn who I was and track me down for retribution. I could go on with the rest of my life with only the cringey memory of the whole ordeal to keep me up at night. Easy breezy.
The Powers That Be had to be having a good laugh right now.
They must’ve laughed all night while I tossed and turned, and kept laughing while I stress-ordered a dino chicken nugget throw pillow online.
And I’m sure their laughter never died down when I overslept yet still took the time to peek through the peephole before sneaking past his door on the way to work.
I hope the Powers That Be got cramps.
I didn’t relax until I got to My Batter Half Bakery this morning. The only sanctuary I had left.
As the familiar scent of sugar and cinnamon blanketed me, I sighed with relief.
I didn’t linger in it, though, since the bakery depended on me to get the prepped sweets into the oven and done before we opened.
It was within this hour or so I felt the most at home.
The peaceful stillness when the world was still sleeping, and the sky was touched with the gray of pre-dawn.
Where nothing else existed besides me and what I could create.
I fell easily into a rhythm as I took the pans of cinnamon rolls and croissants out of the walk-in fridge. The tension from the past day or so melted away with the churning of dough, the bite of oil as donuts fried, the intoxicating aroma of freshly baked scones.
The cashiers and baristas arrived sometime in the middle of the blur of activity. The sharp punch of ground coffee beans drifted into the kitchen from the front. My stomach grumbled.
Gale, the owner, arrived shortly before opening. She greeted me with a smile on her weathered face as she always did. I returned it and asked how she was doing, which she didn’t seem to hear. The question hung awkwardly in the air between us. As it always did.
Though, to be fair, most everything I did left a residue of awkwardness. It’s a skill.
Gale joined the front of house staff and soon their laughter carried over the clangs and whirring of their preparations. I stamped out the spark of envy that ignited and turned the volume on my earbud up until the sounds of REO Speedwagon drowned everything out.
“You gave up the right to be in charge of your duties when you sold your bakery,” I muttered under my breath.
A reminder I’d needed to repeat more frequently as of late.
“You’ve been assigned to the back. You like it here.
Even if you do the work of three people without a pay increase to show for it.
Remember the last time you handled the customer service side of things? ”
I cringed at the memory. With Max as my new neighbor, it tasted especially bitter.
The rest of my shift passed in a whirlwind. I’d just started frosting a dozen cupcakes when my earbud rang with an incoming call from my favorite person in the world.
“Hey, Lex!” I answered, wiping my hands on my apron. “What’s up?”
My sister skipped all the pleasantries. “Did you move yesterday? Most of your stuff is gone and you never came home last night.”
Guilt squirmed in my gut. Was she mad at me? “Well, yeah. Your wedding is only a month away now, and I can’t keep mooching off of you.”
“ Mooching ? Dekker, you paid half the rent, which I never asked you to do in the first place.”
I stilled. “Oh, no, did I totally mess up your budget now? I’m sorry. I didn’t even think of that.”
“What? No. Just—” She took a steadying breath. “Why didn’t you wait until I could at least help you move? And where did you move to?”
“The same building as Max, apparently,” I mumbled.
Too late, I realized my mistake.
A couple beats of silence resounded over the line, punctuated only by the spray of water as I rinsed the dishes. Then, Lex laughed .
Yep. My sister. My own flesh and blood. The one who should have my back and be concerned for my wellbeing—which was clearly at risk living so close to the man whose life I’d wrecked—laughed.
“This isn’t funny,” I grumbled, shooting her a glare that had zero effect.
Even if she could see it, she wouldn’t be cowed. After all, she investigated criminals for a living. The only investigating I did was sniffing my week-old leftovers to see if they’d give me food poisoning.
“Max? The same guy you left my engagement party early just to avoid, lives in the same building now?” Another guffaw escaped. “That’s too good.”
“Next door, actually. But sure, mock my pain.”
“He lives right next to you?” She crowed with laughter for a good ten seconds. “Sorry” —she didn’t sound the least bit sorry— “I know you’re convinced he hates you for some reason, but I just don’t see it.”
“He couldn’t even look at me for more than a second yesterday, Lex. You weren’t there. He was itching to get away from me as soon as possible.”
“Okay, I’ll admit that’s a little odd for Max,” she allowed, “but I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you’re making it out to be. And even if he did hate you, this is karma.”
“I knowww,” I moaned, moving to the next bowl on the industrial dishwasher’s counter. Even if I deserved his revenge, I didn’t have to look forward to it.
“No, not for whatever happened between you two last year. For moving without telling me. Again .”
I set the mixing bowl I was rinsing down with a clang. “That’s not fair. You were undercover when I moved here. There was no way I could’ve told you.”
She grunted noncommittally. “Still. I think it’s fate.”
“Har, har. Are you going to help me or not?” I glanced at the clock on the wall. I’d been here over eight hours now, and I could feel each one in my back. “You probably want to spend the rest of your lunch break with your fiancé, am I right?”
Lucky duck. Like Max, her fiancé Colt was on the same squad as her. What started as a bitter rivalry had blossomed into the kind of love I could only wish for.
“And you’re off soon, anyway,” she added. “What are you going to do for the rest of the day?”
“Unpack and check for roaches, probably.”
“I think we all know how your ‘unpacking’ usually goes.”
And here Max thought Lex didn’t make any jokes. If only.
“You’re hilarious,” I deadpanned. Sure, I still had some boxes at her apartment. Boxes that had never gotten unpacked since moving here from Pittsburgh a year ago. But this apartment was mine and mine alone. This time would be different.
She cleared her throat in a poor attempt to sober up. “Please tell me you’re joking about the roaches. Because if you’re not, I’m getting you a hazmat suit for your birthday.”
Now there was a plan. Wearing one of those all the time would rule out a good chunk of revenge plans, right?
“You know,” she continued, her voice a little too casual, “if you opened your own bakery, you could probably afford a better place.”
I had a better place with the best roommate ever, until said roommate decided to up and get engaged.
The audacity.
“I know,” I sighed. “I’m working on it.”
“Are you?”
Though Lex’s words held no malice, they still stung.
Technically, I’d made enough from the sale of my bakery back in Pennsylvania to be able to open a new one here with the help of a small business loan.
But, I hadn’t found the right place for it yet, hadn’t gotten the licenses I’d need or figured out all the payroll, hiring, and employee benefits.
I’d always hated that aspect of owning a business.
I could bake circles around nearly anyone, develop a menu, even work with customers for events.
I could deal with Bridezillas and finicky suppliers.
But the actual business side of things? The budgeting, scheduling, and paperwork hoopla?
I hated it with a passion. And maybe that’s part of why I’d failed my bakery back home.
“Yes,” I huffed. “I am. You know there aren’t a lot of prime locations available, and I’m still saving up. Detroit isn’t cheap.”
She snorted. “Compared to Pittsburgh? It could be a lot worse, and you know it.”
Yeah, I did. But still. “Well, I haven’t found a good enough place yet.”
On days where I felt particularly lonely or frustrated with my lot at My Batter Half, I’d scroll through the real estate sites looking for listings.
None of them felt right. I wanted something close to where I lived, with decent foot traffic and enough parking not to be a nuisance, a safe enough neighborhood that wasn’t too far from all the major highways.
Honestly, nothing fit those requirements aside from the bakery where I currently worked.
Gale could easily rise above all the bakeries in town with a few updates, good marketing, and innovative recipes and ideas. She’d even beat out Priscilla’s Cakes and Pastries, the hoity toity bakery I’d interviewed at when the incident with Max happened.
But let’s forget about that.