Chapter 21 Avah
AVAH
The coffee shop I’m sitting in is typical for Boulder—reclaimed wood tables, artsy prints on the walls, and overpriced oat milk lattes. Pretty sure I look like I’ve just been hit by a bus, which isn’t far off.
Jon’s chair is probably still warm across from me. Less than a minute ago, he stood up, buttoned his suit jacket with a practiced flick of the wrist, and walked out like a man who just wrapped up a productive quarterly review.
I press my palms against the table to keep myself anchored. No chance of me standing since my legs feel like overcooked linguine. My jaw aches from clenching it for the past twenty minutes.
A chair scrapes, and Piper drops into the seat next to me. She’d been a few spots away, half-hidden behind a laptop she never even glanced at. Despite her growing baby bump, she moves with the grace of a woman who spent a nursing career navigating around hospital equipment.
“Do you need a hug?”
“No.” I swallow hard. “Not if I’m going to hold it together, which I am.”
She nods. “Do you need me to follow that twatwaffle down the street and kick his ass?”
I almost smile at that. “I can’t have you going to jail at the start of Felix’s football season. It would ruin his concentration, and everyone in Colorado would hate me.”
“I’ll kick their asses, too.”
Even though my throat feels like I just swallowed a fistful of gravel, a laugh tries to work its way through. Because Piper would absolutely throw hands for me in the middle of the Pearl Street Mall on a Tuesday afternoon, without a second thought.
“Can we sit here for a minute? I need a sec for my legs to stop feeling like Jello.”
She settles in like she’s in no rush and wraps both hands around her iced latte. “We can stay here until they kick us out,” she assures me.
“Thanks,” I whisper. “And for coming.” We drove forty minutes to Boulder for my meeting with Jon so that whatever happened wouldn’t become Skylark’s next hot topic. It’s the best I can manage these days.
Piper’s hazel eyes narrow. “Tell me what the asshole said.”
I’m shredding a paper napkin into thin strips because my fingers need to be moving to hide the tremor in them.
After Winnie told me she wants to sell the bakery, I couldn’t stop thinking about buying it.
It’s so far removed from what I’ve been doing with my life—we’re not even talking the same zip code—it truly would be starting over.
But I need to do something. Unfortunately, I can’t do anything with what I have now, which is approximately nothing.
So I texted and asked to meet Jon. I figured if I was going to get any of my money back, I needed to face him and make my case.
He responded within minutes, like he’d been waiting for me to crawl back into his orbit. I asked Piper to come with me because the thought of sitting across from him alone made my stomach cramp so hard I had to grip the edge of the bakery’s counter to stay upright.
I hate that with a fury that burns hotter than my anger at Jon.
I grew up watching my mother tiptoe around a volatile man, and I swore I’d never be that soft or small or accommodating.
I throw my opinions around like ticker tape and dare anyone to rain on my parade.
My mother’s voice was a whisper in our house, so I made sure mine was a bullhorn because fear wouldn’t control me the way it did her.
I turned out pathetic anyway.
I flatten what’s left of the napkin with my palm, smoothing the shredded pieces like I can put them back together. There’s definitely a metaphor for my current situation in there, but it’s lost in the shitstorm playback of this latest experience.
“He was charming at first,” I say, working like mad to keep my voice steady.
“Told me he understood why I left. Said he’d been doing a lot of reflecting.
” I roll my eyes hard enough to strain a muscle.
“Reflecting. Like he’s been journaling about his feelings instead of telling every mutual acquaintance we have that I cheated on him. ”
“What about the money?”
“He acted like it was owed to him for all the years he supported me. For the connections his family provided, and the lifestyle I supposedly benefited from.” I force myself to meet her gaze. “Then he said he’d think about what I deserve.”
The words sound just as ugly coming from my mouth as they did from his.
“You should get an attorney.” Piper reaches out and covers my hand with hers, and I have to force myself not to flinch away. She leans closer and says, “Because he can go fuck himself.”
I know she’s right. The same way I know that three-thirty alarm is going to shatter my sleep tomorrow morning, and I’ll drag my ass down to the bakery and lose myself in the work of making something that brings joy to people.
Me, most of all. Attorneys mean paperwork and potential depositions, and I’m so tired of fighting battles I didn’t start.
“Maybe.” I take a deep breath as Piper squeezes my hand tighter. “I’ll think about it.”
“It sounds like you’re letting that douchebag get away with what he did.”
Fair, but ouch.
“I don’t want to give him more of my energy than I already have, Pip. I spent years managing that man’s moods and anticipating his reactions. I’m done orbiting around his bullshit. I want to figure out my next move without him being the center of it.”
She nods, and I can see her deciding whether to push. Piper was the first person to notice how horribly off my relationship with Jon was and call me out on it. She has every right to do the same thing now. Instead, she takes a sip of her iced decaf latte, then flashes a grin.
“So let’s discuss a less problematic swinging dick. How’s Jeremy?”
The question catches me mid-sip, and I grab the deconstructed napkin with my free hand when coffee snorts out my nose. “Swinging dick?”
She tilts her head. “Just asking.”
“He’s fine. We’re fine. I mean, there’s no official we. He’s just—” I wave my hand in a vague gesture that communicates very little.
Piper’s mouth twitches. “Just what?”
“Just…nothing.”
“Avah.”
“We’ve been hanging out because I’m helping him with a business thing. That’s the whole story.”
Not even close.
And there’s more to it than just incredible sex—although that part is legit incredible.
The other stuff is what scares me. Like how he remembers I like my coffee with oat milk after hearing me request it just once.
And how he listens when I talk about the bakery, as though my plans for almond croissants matter as much as his billion-dollar deals.
“You’re blushing,” Piper observes.
“Premature hot flash.”
“I don’t think so. I think you’re thinking about a certain swinging dick.”
“Jesus, Piper. You’re worse than me.”
She preens. “I take that as a compliment. Now spill the tea, girl.”
“It’s not…” I shake my head. “I can’t make whatever’s happening between Jeremy and me the thing that fixes my life.
I’ve spent way too long letting men define me.
At this point, I need to know I can stand on my own before I lean on anyone.
Because every time I’ve leaned, I’ve ended up on the ground. ”
“I think I want to figure out how to buy the bakery. It’s silly, but baking brings me joy.”
Piper’s grip tightens. “Joy is never silly.”
“I’m going to get my money back, or I’ll find another way.”
“For what it’s worth,” she says, “you’re already a different person than you were with Jon. And joy often shows up in unexpected places, or sometimes unexpected people. I think you know that, even if you’re not ready to say it out loud.”
“I’m not much for expressing myself,” I deadpan, drawing a laugh from my nearly-as-snarky-as-me friend.
The knot in my chest loosens just enough that I can take an even breath.
“We should go,” I say, starting to clean up the mess I made. How I wish cobbling my life back together could be half as straightforward.
“I’m driving home.” Piper pushes back from the table. “You look like you’ve been through a cage fight.”
“A cage fight would have been more fun. At least those have a clear winner.”
We walk out into the summer afternoon, and as I fill my lungs with the clean mountain air, I feel my legs solidify beneath me.
One step and then another, a growing sense of determination carries me toward the parking lot and then back home.
Away from a man who thinks he still gets to decide what I deserve.
And toward one who might be exactly what I need.