48. Christopher
forty-eight
“This really isn’t a good time, Emma,” I say. I want to spend time with Alexandra, get to know her friend, then take my woman home. She came back to spend time with me before the competition, and yeah, I’m reading a lot into that.
I’m getting hard just thinking about spending the rest of my life with Alexandra.
“I just need a minute, Chris,” Emma says.
“You have thirty seconds,” I say as I spot Alexandra and her friend down the street. We slide into the first booth. “Spit it.”
“I’ll make it short,” Emma says, pulling out some papers from a file in her briefcase. “Alexandra is Rita Douglas’s granddaughter. Heir of Red Barn Baking. Future majority shareholder and commander supreme of said company if she successfully completes her baking apprenticeship at your bakery.” She takes a breath. “I thought you should know.”
I’m too stunned to respond, so I thumb through the papers she’s holding out for me.
Some resolution or other legal shit confirming what Emma just said about the inheritance.
A Profit and Loss Statement, and a Balance Statement, both for Red Barn Baking. Emma wanted to make sure she drove the point home. Can’t really blame her for doing her homework. That’s her way of looking out for me.
In case I had any questions, the numbers at the bottom of the lines tell the whole story better than any words could have.
I never stood a chance.
The numbers dance in front of my eyes. My stomach clenches. My tongue feels like sandpaper.
Then the bitter taste of bile takes over.
No wonder she thought of me as a little thing to distract herself with while she was here.
I look up, auto-responding to the sound of her voice as she enters Lazy’s and introduces Sarah to Justin. Her smile still lights the room, yet slices my heart. I can’t believe her duplicity.
Fooled twice by rich women.
Blame’s on me.