SIX
Reilly
His eyes drop as he nods and exits the shop. Defeated, guilty.
An attractive man in his thirties, in a black suit and tie, is holding open the door of a posh black four-by-four.
He smiles at Elton, who only shakes his head in return, barely acknowledging his driver while climbing into the back.
Is he too precious to open his own car door?
Another arrogant suit who thinks he can do what he wants because he has a bit of money.
I’ve had enough men like that to last me a lifetime.
“Not today, Satan,” I whisper to myself, trying to push through.
I poke at the burned edges of the cakes. Taking the job at this place – another bad decision. You are full of them.
I threw myself all in with him. “Stupid,” I scold myself. I let go that night and gave him everything. I’ve never been so sexually free. He blindsided me and charmed me with his good looks and easy-going nature. I’ve been down this road before with my ex.
I find myself banging through to the kitchen as I dump the burned cakes in the bin.
How could I not have seen it was all fake? The jokes, the easy conversation, how he caressed and kissed me. I manage to soak myself as I throw the dirty cake tins into the soapy water – because of course the dishwasher hasn’t worked in three months.
How could someone put so much of themselves out there, and it all be pure deception?
I open the cupboard looking for a new cake tin, only to be met with a jumbled mess, which in all honesty is my mess.
As I grab the one I need, it all topples out around me, crashing to the floor.
My head drops against the cold steel of the door.
It’s not fair that a man so cold-hearted won the genetic lottery.
Leaving the mess on the floor for later, I grab my phone and dial the one person who has never let me down. It barely rings before she answers and her cheery “hello” singsongs down the line.
“Mum, I am so over today. Stupid oven keeps conking out … Eric is too cheap to replace it. The timer is off by about five minutes give-or-take on odd days, and about seven minutes fast on even. Knowing this pattern should make it easy to use, but it doesn’t, it makes it impossible.
So now I need to start all over again!” I blow out a breath.
Weighing out the flour in the industrial-sized stand mixer, I smash eight eggs on the side of the bowl and break them into the mixture with the dumped butter and sugar.
“Well it seems to be the perfect way to beat this anger out of you.” Mum chuckles. Her car door slams shut and the engine starts as the line goes quiet.
I calm my nerves to measure out vanilla essence.
Baking is a science, and the balance of vanilla and cream cheese is paramount to perfection.
Plus, “Madagascan vanilla is expensive. Running this place isn’t cheap, Reilly.
You don’t understand these things,” I mutter in Eric’s nasally voice.
He inherited Sunshine Bakes – it shows. He has no passion or care, only ever looking at the bottom line.
“If you’re mimicking Eric out loud, I’m guessing you’re on your own again today.” Mum’s voice comes back as her phone connects to her car’s Bluetooth.
Turning on the stand mixer, I watch as the ingredients are sloshed against the side until they are perfectly combined. I have to tap the top every now and then to keep it from getting stuck.
“Yep, and the only customer I’ve had is someone I would have rather not seen.” A horn blasts, followed by a muttered, “Shit.” Mum’s a late braker.
“Tim?” she asks, concern lacing her voice. The car switches off so naturally the phone jumps out of her car and immediately into her headphones, which I assume are at the bottom of her handbag. Sometimes I wish I had never tried to pull her into the technological age.
“Shit, sorry, Reilly. Did you say it was Tim?” She sounds out of breath. She’s got to slow down. Still working those hours at her age is ridiculous.
“No, thank god! He’s been quiet recently.
” Mum hums in response, she never clicked with him.
Another red flag I stupidly ignored at the time.
“I’m just having a day.” The front door opens on her end and Chip barks, most likely while running around under her feet.
She curses and shoos him away. She moans about Chip, but she loves him.
She fell in love as hard as I did the day I brought him home from the shelter.
At first she was insistent it was too much responsibility, but the second he came bounding in and jumped on her lap she was smitten.
She’ll never admit it, though. Mum’s as stubborn as she is kind.
I get that from her, upgrading the fights we had while I was dealing with my teenage years, I thought I knew everything.
I still haven’t grown out of that particular trait.
“Wait, did you already get home? Where did you drive from?” Mum prefers to walk everywhere, better for the environment.
“I was dropping the blue chair to the woman down the street – the one who always drops treats in for Chip.” I hum in agreement.
“Well, your day has sucked,” she continues.
“But it’s nearly done. Tomorrow is a new day, and it will probably suck as much as this one.
” Music comes on in the background as I listen to Mum pottering around the house, absent-mindedly filling me in on her day.
The idea of being home later already warms me.
Putting the new cupcakes in the oven, I send a silent prayer to the baking goddess to not mess these ones up. The oven light flickers, a little hit to the side keeps it back working again.
I can’t wait to get out of this place and set up on my own.
I’ve got it all planned out. The kitchen is going to be top of the line with sleek stainless steel work benches and every decoration spatula and piping nozzle there is to own.
The front will have display cases as long as the wall, showing off every bake I can dream of.
With a cupcake section organised by colours of the rainbow.
The room is going to be sickly sweet, an Instagrammers dream.
Filled with fluffy lampshades shaped like clouds and a massive rainbow painted on the back wall. Pure dream-world decor.
“Will you walk this blooming dog when you get in?” Even cross, Mum still has a soft gentle tone. I smile knowing I’ll get home to find them cuddled on the sofa probably worn out from a long walk on the beach.
My pride took a hit when I moved back in with Mum.
I needed to save money and this was the smartest way to do it, plus it’s nice for Mum to have me back.
We’ve got past the mother/daughter arguments and now happily coexist. Tim resented my relationship with my mum, it was the one thing he couldn’t control and he let the resentment show.
After I found out he had blocked her access into our building, I packed my bags.
Only after walking away did I finally see him for who he really was: a weak man who thrived off snide comments and demands I could never keep up with.
“Oh, grab Dorothy on your way home, love,” she reminds me as she sends kisses down the phone and hangs up.
Dorothy only lives next door but refuses to walk without an escort.
We don’t live in the nicest part of Bournemouth, but it’s not a warzone.
Still, I can’t help but appease her. She has been a big part of my life since we moved next door to her when I was five.
I feel lighter after talking to Mum. My lovely, strong, inspirational mum.
She did it all by herself, no man in sight.
After my father refused to take responsibility for me and practically denied my existence, she was all I had growing up.
All I needed. Working two jobs to keep food on the table and still there to help with homework and mend any angsty teenage feelings.
If she can do that alone, I can do anything.
I can’t forget the lessons she learned on my behalf.
I have everything I need in life. A loving mum, a doting surrogate grandmother, the best two friends anyone could want and one scruffy three-legged dog. I just need my own bakery, which I am well on the way to getting.
What I don’t need is Elton Fox.