Chapter 5 #2
Miss Loreen’s smile didn’t waver. “Then come too. The more, the merrier.”
Ivy tugged my hand. “Come too, Daddy?”
I swallowed the tightness in my throat and nodded. “All right, Bug. Let’s go see the magic.”
The back room smelled like powdered sugar and almond extract, warm and clean.
“First, hands.” Miss Loreen guided Ivy to the sink. “Every good decorator knows you gotta start clean.”
I stood off to the side, arms crossed, but my heart damn near melted as I watched my daughter stand on tiptoe, scrubbing her hands with way too much soap and concentrating so hard her tongue poked out again.
Miss Loreen pulled a step stool up to the prep counter and helped Ivy climb on, then handed her a hairnet and the tiniest white apron I’d ever seen. She tied it gently around Ivy’s waist.
The protest caught in my throat. This wasn’t random. She’d prepared for this. Unless she had little elves to take over the bakery when she was in bed, she’d bought that apron for Ivy, and that left me choked up.
Miss Loreen placed a simple white cake in front of her, then opened a tray of piping bags and trays of sugar flowers. “All right, little miss. This one’s yours to design. You can tell me where everything goes.”
Ivy didn’t touch a single thing. She didn’t need to.
She pointed with careful little fingers. “Pink… there. Then green… no—light gween. And the buh-tuh-fly… on the edge.”
Miss Loreen followed every direction like Ivy was the boss, placing petals and rosettes just so, letting her choose every detail.
I blinked hard.
This tiny girl—my girl—who’d spent the morning crying over spilled water, was now orchestrating cake art like she’d been born to do it. She didn’t want to eat it. Never even asked to. Just wanted to make it beautiful.
When they finished, Miss Loreen stepped back with a grin. “I think we’ve got a budding baker on our hands.”
I ran a hand down my face, choking on the emotion rising in my chest. “Thank you,” I said roughly. “For letting her… for this.”
“She’s got an eye.” Miss Loreen looked at Ivy like she was something rare and special. “You let her chase that light. Wherever it takes her.”
Ivy’s face glowed, and she held her hands clasped in front of her like she’d just conducted a symphony.
“She can do whatever makes her happy,” I said softly. “That’s all I care about.”
The doorbell chimed, a bright ting-ting that bounced around the warm air. It was funny that all the shops in Bristlecone Springs had the same chime. Miss Loreen glanced up, then leaned down toward Ivy.
“Want to help me serve the customer, sugarplum?”
Ivy’s eyes lit up like the sunrise. She looked at me, hesitating, thumb ghosting near her mouth.
I gave her a soft nod. “Go ahead, Bug. You’ve got this.”
She slipped her tiny hand into Miss Loreen’s, and together they made their way back to the front. I followed a few steps behind, brushing my hands down my jeans.
Shit.
Standing in the doorway, his eyes scanning the bakery with a frown, was Matty.
My whole body stilled.
Reflexively, instinctively—protectively—my first thought was to shield Ivy.
Not because I was ashamed of her. God, never.
But because Matty could be cruel.
Sharp-tongued and quick to wound when cornered.
And the last thing I could handle was him turning that edge on my little girl.
Ivy stood proudly beside the display case, waiting for her moment. She didn’t know heartbreak when she saw it. She didn’t know bitterness disguised as beauty. She just saw a man walk in and smiled. I would have whisked her away, but seeing her looking so confident made me pause.
“Hi!” She waved with all five fingers.
Matty’s steps faltered. He looked at her like he wasn’t sure if he should run. If he walked out because of her, he wasn’t the man I fell in love with. The man who still had my whole heart.
Miss Loreen nudged Ivy gently. “Go on, sweetheart. What do we say?”
“Wuh-welcome to Dough Re Mi!” Ivy sang beautifully. “Can… can I help y-you?”
Matty didn’t smile. But he didn’t scowl either. He took a deep breath and approached the counter. “You sure can.” His voice was soft, like it was pulled out of him. I hadn’t heard that softness in a long time.
He looked at me, eyes scanning my face like they were searching for something he’d lost.
I didn’t speak.
Didn’t breathe.
Didn’t trust myself to.
Ivy was standing so close to the glass that her breath fogged it, peering in as she waited for Matty’s answer.
“I’ll take a slice of the hummingbird cake,” he said.
Of course.
I could’ve said it before he opened his mouth.
He always had a sweet tooth for the moist banana-pineapple cake with a cream cheese frosting that stuck to your lips.
He used to call it his guilty pleasure, though he never looked guilty when he smeared the frosting on my nipple and licked it clean off.
A dull ache hummed low in my chest. Like the memory had teeth sharp enough to rip my skin from my bones.
“And… and… the unicorn one.” Ivy pointed. “Iz pwetty.”
Matty blinked, surprised. “The unicorn one?”
She nodded, ponytail bouncing. “Is pink and… and…”
She struggled to get the words out, but Matty didn’t rush her, and I could have wept.
“It has wings!” she finally got out.
Matty hesitated. Just a beat. “Umm, sounds magical. Add it to my order, please.”
Miss Loreen handled the sale and then handed Ivy the paper bag carefully, folded neatly with a pink sticker. “You know what to do.” Ivy held the bag with both hands and offered it up like it was sacred. “Here go, Mistah ’ustomer!”
Matty took it slowly, like it weighed more than it should. “Thank you, Ivy.”
Ivy.
He knew her name.
He’d said her name.
And just like that, my whole damn world tilted.
He hadn’t hesitated. Hadn’t stumbled over it or looked at me for permission. He’d said her name like it belonged on his tongue. Soft. Careful. Real.
Something cracked in me, deep, quiet, but undeniable. Like a fault line giving way under the weight of a memory I didn’t ask to feel.
Because there had been a time I imagined him doing that all the time.
Saying her name.
Carving it into the world with his voice.
Maybe whispering it before bedtime or laughing it across the yard while she rode a bike with streamers.
But he never got the chance.
I’d never given it to him.
Seeing him standing there—this man I used to love like breathing—talking to my daughter like it was the most natural thing in the world… it gutted me.
Not because I didn’t want it.
But because, deep down, I did.
And that scared the ever-loving hell out of me.
I hoped he meant the sincerity in his voice toward my daughter and wasn’t nice to her just because another person was present. That would gut me.
Ivy blew him a kiss.
Matty caught it. Right there in his palm.
He looked startled that he did. Looked like he did it out of instinct and didn’t know what to do with it. But he didn’t let it fall.
He didn’t let my daughter’s kiss fall.
Just gave a quiet, almost breathless, “Take care, then.”
And left.
The door jingled again behind him, cheerful as ever.
I watched the door long after it shut, like I could still feel him on the other side. My palms were sweaty. My chest tight.
Ivy looked up at me proudly. “I did it, Daddy.”
“You did.” I brushed a kiss to the top of her head. “You did amazing.”
But even with her small arms hugging me and her glittery eyes sparkling up at me, I couldn’t stop the tremble that ran through me.
Because even though he treated me like shit, Matty Magnuson was just nice to my daughter. And I fell a little more in love with him.