ANNA
I stand rigid, inundated with a pressure so intense it makes me dizzy. I don’t know how I manage to stand upright, how I don’t break into a sweat.
My stomach churns, and unease rips through my veins. I have to swallow hard, force the bile down, and remind myself to breathe.
Sylas still stands unblinking by the front door, but he smiles, and those goddamn dimples make an appearance.
I don’t stare too hard, don’t react like I would have a few years ago.
Even though it’s all I want to do. Ear-piercing shrieking ricochets in my head, bouncing around inside my skull, desperate to be let out, but I raise a deceptively calm smile.
In spite of the rage that now consumes me, I do nothing but fucking smile.
If I don’t, I’ll end up in jail for committing murder.
“Hi.” I somehow manage to find the strength to release that word and the next ones.
“Welcome to Everything Everything.” Each syllable is strained.
I try to sound casual, friendly, but I’m struggling to come off that way.
It takes all my focus not to tell him to fuck off.
“We’ll be closing in ten minutes, but you’re welcome to browse and buy.
If you need help, please don’t hesitate to ask. I’m more than happy—”
“Anna,” he interrupts, mouth cast in an uneven smile, his dimples gone, hiding beneath the scruff. “Please don’t act like you don’t know who I am.” He sounds devastated—pathetically so—his English accent heavy, which I know means he’s exhausted.
Sylas does too good of a job of looking sorrowful, but I know it’s all a ruse.
I know he’s playing me, maybe thinks I’ll jump in his arms, beg him to come back.
He probably expects me to be thrilled that he’s standing here acting helpless.
But I won’t fall for his games. I know better.
And I know if I’m not careful, he’ll take Rosie from me.
“More than happy to help,” I finish. I don’t mean to grind my teeth, for my jaw to tic, for the friendliness I was already failing to exude slips off my face. “As I said, we close in ten—” I glance at the watch around my wrist. “Eight minutes,” I correct.
Grabbing the dirty tongs and trays behind me, I take them to the back, dropping them in the deep sink. Gripping on to the edge, I lower my head and fight against the quiver of my chin.
Do not cry. Do not cry. Do not cry. Anna, you better not cry. You promised yourself you wouldn’t. Do. Not. Cry.
It’s a brief chant, and although the quiver persists, I manage to get myself together before I walk back out. I glance at my watch again. Six minutes until closing.
Sylas is in the same spot. I want to scream and ask him what he’s playing at. Why he’s just hovering there looking so defeated. I want to do so many things, but I physically bite my tongue. I will not give him the satisfaction of an outburst.
“Are you finding everything okay?” My lips are lifted so high my cheeks burn from the hold.
No matter what life throws at us, we’re going to do it together. I promise.
He said that so many times and I believed him.
I really wish I hadn’t. I wish I’d listened to Maya.
She warned me, begged me to break things off with Sylas.
She knew he was going to break my heart, but I defended him, maintaining how different he was.
That he wasn’t like the rest. That he wouldn’t break my heart.
He promised, as he made love to me, and swore he’d never leave.
Only I was feeding a delusion because I should’ve known. It was so cliché; rich athlete falls for his maid. I should have seen it coming.
Guys like that don’t fall for people like us, Anna. You are not part of his world. You just happened to be there. Convenient, she’d said.
It was harsh, so much so I didn’t care to reconcile my relationship with her. I refused to listen, told her she didn’t know him like I did. Jokes on me because I didn’t know him either.
“Anna, I really want to talk to you. Please,” he adds, approaching me.
I’m behind the counter, but I don’t move. I won’t be intimated this time. Disturbing as it is, I’ve played out this moment so many times in my head. It was a what if, just in case Sylas showed up.
Despite how unbothered I want to appear, it hurts, seeing him stand there, faking the desperation, knowing he’s probably eager to see how miserable I am without him.
The tiniest whimper crawls up my tangled throat, the pain I’m struggling to conceal attempting to force its way out.
“Do you need help with anything?” I grind my molars hard as everything in me shrivels, the ache he left becoming too unbearable to hide.
Casting my gaze to my watch, I narrow my eyes on the stupid long hand that moves excruciatingly slow, cursing it and myself for deciding I wanted to stay open.
“There’re five minutes left until I have to close. ”
Don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you sad. You will not break in front of him.
He breathes out a somber chuckle, pale green eyes desolate, but they brighten just a smidge as they shift to my arm where our matching tattoo is. I can’t help but do the same.
No! Stop. Don’t look.
“Yeah, I need help.”
My feet feel heavy with every step I take, and a bead of sweat runs down my spine. I shouldn’t have offered to help. I shouldn’t have done anything besides kick him out.
I leave just enough space between us; we can’t reach for each other, but he’s still close, tall, broad, and imposing. I get a whiff of his cologne, feel the heat of his body, and hate how my body reacts. Like it needs him. I’m disgusted with myself.
“What do you need help with?”
“What would you recommend?” he asks, and I feel his eyes on me, but I look ahead at the pastries.
“Everything,” I answer, my tone neutral.
I hear the smile in his voice. “Everything Everything.”
“Yup.” I fist my shaky hands at my side.
“Please look at—”
“Do you need help or not?” I rush out. “You have four minutes left.”
“I have a big sweet tooth.” I know, I remember. And I hate that I do. “I could eat about anything. So, what would you recommend?”
I feel his eyes on me, but I don’t dare take a peek. For you to get out and never come back, I almost say, but I—no, why am I holding back? Why am I acting civil? Why am I standing here as if he didn’t screw me over?
“I can’t do this,” I snap, taking a few steps back, although no amount of space will be enough. “You need to get out. You need to leave and do what you did best all these years—never come back. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want anything to do with you. Leave.”
Sadness washes over him and stays etched on his face. He looks so gutted, and it hits me again how well he’s faking it. I mean, of course he is; his mom is in the performance industry. I’m sure Sylas picked up a thing or two.
“Anna, I’ve missed you. I miss you.” Desperation expels from his mouth, voice laced thick with hope. “I just wanted you to know. I need you to—”
“No.” I cross my arms against my chest. “You don’t get to stand there and act like that.
You don’t get to come back and act like you didn’t fuck me over.
Like you didn’t—” I’m shaking with the need to say everything I always dreamed of saying, but I can’t.
I physically can’t voice it. “No, Sylas. No. We are better without you. We don’t need you.
We don’t want you here. So leave. Disappear like you did before.
I promised I’d leave you alone and I meant that.
We are so, and I mean so, much better without you. ”
He reels back. “We? Who’s we?”
I scoff a laugh. “Wow, so now you want to pretend?”
A deep furrow of confusion nestles on his face. His eyes search my own, and he stays silent as if waiting for me to clarify or delve into details.
“I can’t believe you.” My voice cracks, but I clear it and look at my watch. “I need you to get out. I’m going to close.”
“Anna.” He takes a tentative step closer, but I retreat, holding my palm up.
“I swore I’d leave you alone, and I intend to keep that promise. You will not hear from us. I promise you that. So don’t worry, no one will know.”
“Know what? Who is we?” he implores, throwing his arms out wide.
“Get out.” I bristle as he takes another step closer. “And don’t come back.”
He finally listens, taking a few steps back, but he looks like he wants to say more. His mouth parts and stays that way as his eyes sweep over my face, searching. God, he’s so good at looking sad. If he retires early, he should definitely take up acting.
“I’m sorry,” he says in a hushed, shaky voice.
I roll my eyes. “Me too. I’m sorry I didn’t walk away when I had the chance.”
“You don’t mean that.” He blinks rapidly, fingers trembling at his sides, eyes bouncing restlessly over me.
“You’re right. I don’t. You did one thing right, but don’t worry, I’ll keep that between us, as I have all these years.”
“I don’t know what you mean by that, Anna. Please just—”
I smile, but it’s devoid of any warmth. “Right, I don’t know what I meant by that either. Leave.”
And with one last lingering look, he walks out.
I pace the bakery floor, telling myself it’s okay, that he’s not going to take Rosie.
He acted like she didn’t happen, like I didn’t beg him to be part of her life even if he didn’t want to be in mine.
I thought seeing him would be hard, but nothing prepared me for this. I knew he was cruel, but I didn’t expect him to pretend like he doesn’t have a daughter. The reality hits me harder than I’d like.
Even though I told myself I wouldn’t, I hide in a corner in the back and break down.