Chapter 20
Chapter 20
I ARRIVED AT WORK on Monday morning exhausted, the bags under my eyes large enough to carry the belongings of an entire family on vacation to Fiji. Since that fateful day at The Royal Hotel, I’d hardly slept a wink, instead lying on my back, staring up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of . . . well, everything.
Starting with Fake Jamie slash Fabio slash Eddie Smith. Whatever his name was. Never in my life had I been victimized by someone the way he had victimized me. Sure, I’d had girls be mean to me at high school, a couple even moving my desk away from theirs or throwing all my school work in the trash. That was harsh at the time, but it was just fourteen-year-olds being catty and nasty.
This? This was a whole different league.
Out of sheer bitterness, Eddie had set out to ruin Cozy Cottage Catering. And he’d done a darn good job of it. All because I rejected him.
So much for “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” This man’s fury was off the freaking charts.
And then, of course, my mind kept bouncing back to Ryan. Turning up at The Royal Hotel when I’d asked him not to was one thing, but I knew there was something deeper that was bothering me, something I was finding hard to face.
When he’d said he loved me, with that look in his eye, it had catapulted me right back to when Dan was alive, right back to when he’d first uttered those three little words to me. To when I’d said them back to him. And I’d had unquestioning faith in that love, I thought it’d be forever. I thought our love could survive anything.
How wrong I had been.
No one had touched my heart the way Ryan had. No one other than Dan. How could I have such deep, strong feelings for Ryan when I’d already given my heart away to another?
It simply wasn’t mine to give anymore.
Although my head knew Dan was gone, my heart didn’t. And there was no room for anyone else while he was still there.
I wasn’t ready to say a final goodbye. Not now, not ever.
I let out a heavy sigh as I tied my Cozy Cottage apron around my waist, my heart settling at the bottom of my belly. I had a business to run, and despite the catering company looking like it was dead in the water, we had a wedding to prepare for Cassie and Will.
I breathed in the delicious scent as I pulled a freshly baked flourless chocolate and raspberry cake out of the oven. I glanced up as Paige came through the back door. Her features creased up in concern as her eyes landed on mine.
“Bailey, thank goodness. I’ve called and called.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I needed some time.”
I’d switched my phone off to avoid having to face Ryan—and everyone else. It had worked. Shame I couldn’t have switched my mind off, too.
She placed her purse on the kitchen counter. “I get it. He’s a creep, and what he did to you is horrible.”
I nodded, placing the cake on a wire rack on the counter. “I know.”
She walked around the edge of the counter until she was standing in front of me. “He’s a vindictive idiot, not worth your time.”
I nodded again. Yes, the way Eddie had targeted our business was beyond terrible, and he deserved to be punished in cruel and unusual ways.
But it wasn’t him who had me in knots.
“And Ryan and you? Is everything okay there? By the time I paid the check and stepped outside, you had already taken off.”
I looked down at the floor. “There is no Ryan and me. Not anymore.”
“There’s not?” Paige couldn’t keep the shock from her voice. “I thought you two were great. I thought he was your Last First Date.”
I shook my head, my chest aching, my eyelids hot.
“What happened?”
How could I explain that Ryan didn’t stand a chance, that he could never stand a chance?—not against Dan.
I had to admit it to myself. I was in love with a ghost.
“I don’t know. We weren’t right, I guess.” I lifted my head, plastering on a smile. “Hey, we’re presenting the final menu to Cassie and Will tonight, right? I’m excited about that.”
The look on her face told me she knew I was deliberately changing the subject. She was generous enough to let me have it. “I am, too. I think they’re going to love it. And it’s not far away now.”
“No, less than a month.”
She paused, running her fingers over the counter. “Hey, speaking of our catering business.”
I shook my head. “I’ve lost the heart for it.”
She nodded. “I thought as much. But I don’t think we should make any hasty decisions right now. Let’s just put it on ice, ’kay?”
“Okay.”
She stepped over to me and pulled me in for a hug. I gave her a quick squeeze and then moved away before the tears began to pool in my eyes. I could deal with the emotional soap opera my life had become, but not in the face of her kindness.
And I’d had more than enough of crying for today.
I concentrated on loosening the cake out of its tin. “Can you please get that carrot cake in the oven?” I nodded at the counter where I’d placed the batter in a cake tin. I was awake so early, I’d gotten to the café in the middle of the night and had set about baking.
I’d always loved to bake. It was kind of my therapy. When things went wrong, I would pull out one of Nona’s recipes and whip something up, the process of measuring and mixing, the satisfaction of baking something delicious, working to calm me.
This morning I’d baked a Cassata alla Siciliana , an orange and almond syrup cake, the chocolate and raspberry cake I’d just turned out, and had a carrot cake ready for me to ice later with cream cheese frosting.
Four cakes, but still I hadn’t been able to find any peace.
“I’ve started in on the wedding cake, by the way.”
“You have? I didn’t think we’d do anything until next week.”
“Oh, I had time this morning.” Like three hours. “I’ve worked out how much of each of the ingredients we’ll need, based on the size and design we’ve agreed on with them. Now all we have to do is bake it, ice it, decorate it, and voila.”
“Is that all?” Paige laughed.
We were using a fruit cake recipe Nona had used to make for my cousin’s wedding some years ago. She had baked it weeks before, storing it in an airtight container and “feeding” it every week to keep it moist. We had discussed doing the same, and with the wedding less than a month away now, we planned to begin baking this week.
I glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s almost opening time. Is Sophie due in?”
“She sure is.”
“Would it be okay with you if I hung out in the back here and got on with baking the wedding cake?”
Sleep-deprivation and emotional turmoil weren’t a great combination when dealing with customers. Hiding away in the kitchen for the day seemed like a much better option for me.
“Honey, you’ve got to do what works for you. Soph and I will be just fine.”
There was a knock on the back door, and Paige wiped her hands as she walked over to answer it. “I bet that’s Josh delivering the coffee beans. He’s early today, though.”
She pulled the door open. “Oh.”
It wasn’t Josh.
“Hey, Ryan,” Paige said.
“Can I talk to Bailey, please, Paige?” His voice was quiet, controlled.
Paige held the door open and glanced over at me, her face once again creased up in concern. “Bailey?”
I swallowed, my eyes meeting Ryan’s, my chest tightening. I gave a brief nod. I had to end this properly.
I had to let him go.
I rinsed my hands and dried them off, giving myself a moment to steady my nerves. I’d been dodging his calls, I knew this time would come. And he deserved to hear from me, even if he wouldn’t want to hear what I had to say.
Out in the alley behind the café, I looked down at his feet, searching for the words.
“Bailey, what happened? I thought we were good.” His voice was full of hurt, full of unexpressed grief. It twisted my heart to know I was the cause, that I’d done this to him.
I looked up and into his sad hazel eyes, my breath catching in my throat as I took in the pain written plainly across his face. He looked achingly handsome in his open-neck powder blue shirt, his dirty blonde hair messy.
“I’m sorry.” My hand on my chest, I tried to hold my pain in. My breath shortened. “I just can’t. Please understand. I thought I could, but I can’t.”
He placed a warm hand on my bare arm. I shivered at his touch, my heart heavy.
“Why? You’ve got to tell me why. Bailey, you owe me that much.”
Dan had been gone for three years on the twenty-sixth. By developing feelings for Ryan—serious “this could turn into love” types of feelings—meant Dan was really gone.
Not ever coming back.
How could I tell Ryan that?
He stepped closer to me and placed his other hand on my arm.
I could smell his cologne and felt my legs weaken.
“We can work this out. I love you, Bailey, and I think you love me, too.”
I swallowed, that knife turning inside. I looked up and steeled myself. “I . . . I’m sorry, but I just don’t feel the same.”
I held my breath as he studied my face, his brows knitted together.
“I don’t believe you.” His voice was harsh, cutting through me.
“It’s the truth. Now, I really have to get back inside. I’ll . . . um, I’ll see you ’round.”
He dropped his hands from my arms and I turned away from him. I took a tentative step toward the door, my vision blurred, my heart thudding against my ribs. I fumbled for the door knob, grasping onto it. As I pushed the door open and stumbled inside, I didn’t look back.
I couldn’t.
I didn’t want to see the pain on his face, knowing I’d caused it. It would be just too much to bear.