Chapter 20
TWENTY
Marlon spent Thanksgiving with Leo, Amelia, Camilla, and all their friends. Leo and Amelia hosted the get-together in their apartment, and the meal was done potluck-style. It was the first time in years he’d done anything for the holiday, and he loved every second of it. Camilla’s pumpkin pie was unreal. Her apple pie was even better. When he took her home, they were both too full to make love. As he wrapped her in his arms and fell asleep beside her, Marlon felt like the luckiest man in the world.
She was his. She would remain his. And he was hers.
The next weekend, Marlon scanned the crowd at the Winter Fest and wondered how his life had gotten so good. The Winter Festival was an annual tradition in Stirling that brought the whole town together. Big tents were set up along Main Street, with the square around the Stirling clock tower converted to a stage for live shows that happened over the duration of the weekend. A folk band plucked guitars and sang in front of the milling crowd. The community hall, on the other end of the square, had its doors thrown open and housed a vibrant farmer’s market. Beer tents were set up along the open lawn opposite the square, and food trucks lined the streets.
Marlon scanned the area and was happy to see his employees in fluorescent jackets dotted around the space, exactly where they were meant to be. He met Cormac near the main stage and shook his hand.
“Looking good,” Cormac said, nodding to the happy crowd. “No issues so far?”
Marlon shook his head. “You sure you’re okay taking the evening shift?”
“Got nothing better to do.” Cormac shrugged, then jerked his chin at the opposite end of the square. “Plus, looks like you’ve got company.”
Camilla walked toward him, wearing a dark-orange pea coat and black boots. She was laughing at something Amelia was saying, one arm linked through Amelia’s elbow and the other around her dark-haired friend’s. Lucy was her name, he remembered. She’d been a bridesmaid at Amelia’s wedding. Scarlett ambled along beside them, sipping a hot drink in a takeaway cup from one of the food trucks on the other side of the square.
Cormac shifted beside Marlon as they watched the women approach. Marlon thought he wanted to say something, but before he could, the ladies were stopping in front of them.
“Hi,” Camilla said, beaming. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, her blue eyes bright in the fading sunlight.
“Hi,” he replied, suddenly tongue-tied. Last week, she’d been wondering if they were moving too fast. Marlon, on the other hand, felt like they couldn’t move fast enough. He’d never known life could be this good. Camilla brought with her simple, easy pleasure. Marlon couldn’t ask for more.
“We were going to grab some dinner,” Camilla said, gesturing to the food trucks, “but we can wait if you need to finish your shift up first.”
“Nah, let’s go,” Marlon said, but when he made to sling his arm around her shoulders, someone came barreling into their little group.
“ You ,” hissed the man, pointing at Lucy. “I can’t believe you.”
Lucy stumbled back a step, then narrowed her eyes. “What do you want, Aaron?”
“You got a booth at the Wedding Expo,” Aaron accused.
“Yeah. So?”
“So,” he spat, “I’m the Stirling stationery guy. Me . You’re just some pathetic upstart who thinks she can muscle her way in with her fancy website. But you’re on my turf now, and you better pull out of the expo before you regret it, you little?—”
Marlon bristled—but it was Cormac who moved. He took one single step to put himself between Lucy and Aaron. His chest seemed to grow, his eyes dark as they took in the other man, whose lips clamped shut before he could finish his insult.
“What were you going to call her?” Cormac’s voice was low and dark, his arms loose at his sides. He looked ready to attack.
Aaron blustered, red-faced. “This has nothing to do with you, Rent-a-Cop. I’m talking to her.”
“You’re talking to me .”
Marlon shifted Camilla so she was behind him, then stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Cormac. His business partner’s face was set in harsh lines, eyes burrowing into Aaron’s.
“I think it’s time for you to leave,” Cormac said, quiet and deadly.
Aaron snarled, then looked around Cormac’s body to meet Lucy’s gaze. “Cancel your booth, Barlow.”
Cormac barely moved—just took one step forward—but Aaron stumbled back, scowled at the group, and walked away. Cormac spoke into the radio at his shoulder, and a security guard peeled away from his post and met Aaron halfway across the square, gesturing to the exit.
The group watched him go in silence, then all eyes turned to Lucy. Marlon frowned. What was that about?
“Thank you,” Lucy said quietly, glancing after Aaron. She looked up at Cormac and smiled.
Cormac met her gaze with thunder on his brow. “Who is that guy?”
“Didn’t you hear?” Scarlett cut in with a grin. “That’s the Stirling stationery guy. He’s kind of a big deal.”
Amelia laughed. “Watch out! He might give you a paper cut.”
Lucy huffed a laugh and shook her head. “He’s just feeling threatened, that’s all. I don’t want to worry about him tonight. Let’s go get some food.”
Cormac flicked his gaze to the exit. Aaron had moved out of sight. He nodded at Marlon, who slapped him on the back. Maybe he’d triple his fee for the Winter Fest next year. It was way, way too much hassle.
Sighing, Marlon slid his arm over Camilla’s shoulders and pulled her close. The group left Cormac at his post and headed for the food trucks.
As they walked, Camilla smiled up at Marlon and leaned her head against his shoulder. She fit perfectly, her arm around his waist, their steps moving in sync.
“Cute,” Amelia crooned, then brightened as Leo came up behind her, spun her around, and planted a kiss on her lips.
“Right back atcha,” Camilla replied, laughing.
The six of them ate, laughed, and chattered while the sun went down. Aaron Phillips’ appearance was dissected down to the second—their discussion peppered with endless quips courtesy of Scarlett, Camilla, and Amelia—until Lucy’s worried frown dissolved and her smile returned to its full brightness.
There were heat lamps dotted near the food trucks and eating areas and inside the beer tents. They found a table on the lawn and watched the town come together to celebrate the end of autumn together. The trees’ bare branches were strung with lights, music filtered over the whole square, and the buzz of laughter and conversation rounded out the energy of the festival.
In a quiet swell of inner peace, Marlon realized he was happy.
“Never thought I’d be back here for one of these,” Leo said musingly as he watched a few children play nearby. A dog bounded toward the kids and joined in the fun. Two of the kids had glow sticks, and the dogs went crazy for them.
“You still like having your home base in Stirling?” Scarlett asked Leo. “Don’t miss jet-setting?”
Leo nodded. “Love it. You?”
Scarlett smiled and looked around the table. “Yeah. I’m glad I met you all. This place feels like home now.”
Marlon grunted in agreement, which drew Camilla’s gaze. She bumped her shoulder against his, and that was all that was needed for Marlon to know she understood him. Their connection had been forged now, and all it took was a look, a touch, a word, and he felt like she could see straight through to his soul. He’d found a home too. Even though he’d been living in that house all along, it took Camilla’s arrival to bring it back to life.
Then his phone rang.
At the exact same time, Camilla’s phone began to buzz.
They pulled apart and took out their devices, frowning at the screens.
“It’s the bakery,” Camilla said, then answered the call.
“Hello?” Marlon said into his own device.
“Boss,” Elton said. “Something’s going down at The Sweetest Thing. Cops are on the way and I’m watching the cameras. Single guy on his own. He’s looking for something, but he hasn’t found it yet. I didn’t see a vehicle, but he could have parked it out of range of our cameras.”
“I’m on my way.” He was up and out of his chair in an instant, scanning the festival for Cormac. Not seeing his partner, Marlon turned back to Camilla, who was white-faced and wide-eyed.
She hung up. “The police just called. They said the alarm at my bakery went off.”
“I just heard from Elton,” Marlon confirmed with a nod. He put his hands on her shoulders. “I need you to stay here while I figure out what’s going on.”
She reared back. “What? No. I’m not just going to sit on my hands while you go save the day!”
His stomach clenched. The thought of Camilla anywhere near someone who might be dangerous made him want to crush the phone in his hand into a ball of mangled electronic components. But her mouth was set in a grim line, and Marlon had to admit that it was her business, and she had a right to be involved.
“Fine,” he said. “But you have to stay in the car until I know it’s safe.”
She nodded. “That’s reasonable.”
“What’s going on?” Leo asked, standing. The rest of the group was looking at them, gazes drawn.
“Is it the same people who broke in last time?” Amelia asked. “The people who broke your window too?”
“I don’t know,” Camilla answered, looking troubled. “We need to go.”
Marlon agreed. He put his hand on Camilla’s back and led her through the throngs of happy festivalgoers. The weather was cold, so everyone was bundled in warm clothing, with only ruddy cheeks and noses visible under hats and over high collars.
It made the back of Marlon’s neck itch. Every turned head looked like someone trying to avert their face from his gaze. Every hat and big jacket looked suspicious. The normal sounds of people talking and laughing, music…it all set his teeth on edge. Someone was trying to hurt Camilla, and he had no idea who.
He’d been sitting there, happy as a fool, and someone had broken into her business. It made him want to scream.
They made it to his car, and he bundled Camilla into the front seat, scanning the area. No one stuck out to him, but the back of his neck prickled. Was he being watched?
“Can you think of anyone who might want to hurt your business?” Marlon asked in the tense silence that filled the car.
They hit a red light, and he took the opportunity to glance at Camilla. Her hands were clenched and her jaw was tight. She didn’t answer for a long, long moment.
“Not really,” she finally said.
He frowned. “Not really? What does that mean?”
“The light’s green.”
Marlon ground his teeth, driving onward. He wanted to shake her until answers fell out. Was there someone who would want to hurt her business?
“You should have access to the cameras on the app I set up for you,” he said, willing his voice to hide the tension stealing over his body. “Look over the recording and tell me if you recognize the guy.”
Camilla shuffled and from the corner of his eyes, Marlon saw her open the video. She let out a pained noise.
“What?”
“The cake. The Goodhew cake.” Her hand moved to her mouth.
“What about it?”
“It’s ruined. Oh!” She flinched. “He wrecked it. The wedding is tomorrow . What am I going to do? Why—” She flipped the phone over and covered her face.
Panic clawed at Marlon. He was powerless. Useless. “Who is it? Do you recognize him?”
After a long moment, Camilla turned the phone over and watched the video again. She shook her head. “I didn’t get a clear view, but I don’t think so. I don’t know.”
“Okay.” His phone rang, and he answered it through the car’s Bluetooth. “Yeah?”
“Perp ran when he heard the cops’ sirens. Chatter says he got away.”
“Why the hell did they have their sirens on in the first place?”
“Festival traffic, probably. Downtown’s a mess.”
Marlon had to slow when they hit another knot of traffic, and he resisted the urge to rip the steering wheel off. “Okay. We’ll be there in five.”
“Copy.”
The call ended. Beside him, Camilla was stone-still, staring out the windshield with a blank look on her face.
Marlon felt like he was being slowly fed through a paper shredder, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He needed to fix this. Needed to stop this from ever happening again. “Can you think of anything that might help, Camilla? Sweetheart? Someone acting strange? Any customers give you a bad feeling? Anything ?”
Camilla let out a sigh, her breath sounding thin and reedy. She gulped and shook her head. “No.”
It sounded like a lie.
Marlon frowned.
They pulled up outside her bakery, the police cruiser’s blue-and-red lights reflecting in the front windows. Camilla stepped out of the car as Marlon jogged around to join her on the sidewalk.
“St. James,” Vick said, nodding to him, then glanced at Camilla. “Ms. Fox, will you follow me inside, please?”
“Of course.” Camilla glanced at Marlon, but he couldn’t read her expression. Had she lied? Was she hiding something from him? But… why ?
She followed the police officer, and Marlon went to talk to Vick’s partner. He needed to figure out what was going on, and fast.
They’d spent four weeks together now, and life had been bliss. But what if none of that was true? What if he’d opened his home, his life, his heart to her…and none of it was real?
Had he been a fool to fall for her?
Camilla stared at the smashed wedding cake on the floor and felt tears gather behind her lids. The back of her throat felt hot and tight, and she couldn’t make out a word of what the police officers were saying. She was grateful Marlon had come with her because her mind was utterly blank.
All she could do was look at the cake and watch her future slip through her fingers.
Fred Goodhew had sent the payment today, but he would want a refund immediately. So she’d have to choose between his wrath—and the damage to her reputation for ruining the Goodhew wedding—or the wrath of Frankie Smith. She could only pay one of them. Either way, Camilla would lose her business—lose everything.
The banging of the back door made Camilla jerk up, and she realized the cops had left. A blast of cool air blew over her skin, and she closed her eyes for a moment.
“Let’s get this cleaned up, and then I’ll take you home, okay?” Marlon came closer and brushed his fingers over her arm.
Suddenly, Camilla straightened. She frowned at Marlon, then at the cake. “No,” she blurted. “I can’t go home. I have to make the cake again. The wedding is tomorrow.”
“Camilla, it isn’t safe. What if he comes back? Until we know why someone is targeting your business, the priority is to keep you safe. You should shut the bakery down until we have this figured out.” He frowned at her, eyes intent. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me?”
Her heart hammered. There were a lot of things she wasn’t telling him. But?—
“Shut the bakery down?” She gaped at Marlon. “What? No! No, I can’t do that. No way.”
“Camilla—”
“I don’t tell you how to run your business, and you shouldn’t tell me how to run mine.” The words came out sharper than she’d intended, but they were still the truth.
Marlon’s jaw clenched. His beard had grown over the past couple of weeks, its darkness only making the flash of his eyes more intense. “Camilla. Listen to me.”
“No.” She grabbed a handful of cake from the floor and dumped it in the trash. “No, I won’t leave. I have to make Fred and Nadia’s wedding cake. It has to be delivered in the morning. I have enough time to bake and decorate a new one.”
Her replica cake topper was crumpled into a formless mass of modeling chocolate. She scraped it off the floor where it had been ground into the tiles, then tossed it in the trash. Her breaths came in fast little gasps that didn’t provide enough oxygen. If she didn’t fix this right away, the last ten years of her life would be a complete waste. Her family would be proven right. She would fail.
“Sweetheart.” Marlon sidestepped to get in her way, his hands landing on her biceps. “Camilla. Talk to me. There’s something you’re not telling me.”
“No, it’s you who isn’t listening,” she snapped, then shook off his touch. “This is my livelihood, Marlon. I can’t afford to shut my doors for even a day.”
“Don’t you have savings? I’ll float you some money, Camilla. This is about keeping you and your employees safe.”
“I don’t want your money!”
Marlon reared back, and Camilla realized she’d yelled. His eyes flashed, but his temper only served to stoke her own.
“Listen,” she clipped. “I’m not borrowing money from you, or my family, or anyone ever again . I’ve learned my lesson.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That is none of your business,” she hissed.
“Is this about your ex? You’re lumping me in with a creep now? You don’t trust me?”
“This isn’t about trust,” she said through clenched teeth. “This is about my business. My life . I’m not going home with you; I’m staying here and making this cake again, and I’m delivering it to the Goodhews in the morning.”
His chest heaved with deep breaths, eyes intent on hers. “I get that you’re upset,” he tried, in a gentler voice, “but your safety is my priority?—”
“My safety is not your concern,” she cut in, scooping up more destroyed cake from the floor. “I endured your people setting up that security system, but don’t think for a second I’m going to let you push me around.”
“Endured it,” Marlon scoffed. “Wow.”
“Oh, get over yourself,” she said, suddenly angry. He was standing there like she should just scurry after him and do everything he said. But he didn’t know that if she didn’t deliver this cake, she wouldn’t be able to save her business. She’d been so close. So close to freedom. So close to her beautiful new life.
Now the cake was smashed, and the future was more uncertain than ever. She could fix this cake, or she could fail. There was no other option. Why didn’t Marlon understand that? Why was he trying to push her around and get his way?
Her anger was a life raft in an ocean of fear. She clung to it, temper flaring. “Do you think you get to dictate what I do, Marlon? You think that just because we slept together, you’re now the boss of me?”
“I think that someone has been breaking into your business, and I don’t want you to get hurt. I just want to keep you safe.”
“I didn’t ask you for that!” The words exploded from her. She saw the mirage of her beautiful future tear like wet tissue paper. Here was another man trying to impose his will on her. Another man telling her what was right for her. Ignoring her. Trying to control her.
Her entire life had been a battle, and stupidly, Camilla had let her guard down. Now Marlon was just proving to her that she’d been an idiot. She should have fought for her independence. The moat around her heart should have stayed full of water and teeming with snapping crocodiles, but like a fool, she’d lowered the drawbridge.
He didn’t understand that her business meant everything . Her entire adult life had been spent trying to make this work. She’d left home, survived her ex, paid every extortionate penny to Frankie Smith, and she could see the finish line. And now she was supposed to throw it all away because he said so? He thought he could play the hero and everything would be okay, but he was wrong .
The only way things would be okay was if Camilla took care of them, like she always did. No one would look out for her, no matter what they said. This mess had to be fixed—by her.
Her breaths heaved, tears gathering in her eyes. If she had to choose between her business—her independence, her stability, her life —and a man, didn’t she have to choose her business? She’d let herself get distracted, but there was nothing else she could do. “I didn’t ask you for any help, Marlon.”
He turned his back on her, shoving his hands through his hair. A few deep breaths, and he turned again. “Camilla, there’s something you aren’t telling me.” His eyes looked tortured. “Talk to me, sweetheart. Let me help.”
“I’m not your sweetheart! You keep wanting to ride to my rescue, but I don’t need that . Not from you or from anyone.”
Marlon flinched.
Camilla squeezed her eyes shut. She trembled all over, standing on an unsteady cliff face, waiting for the landslide to take the ground out from under her.
If she told him, would he understand? Would he judge her for going to Frankie Smith for money? Would he look down on her for her past mistakes? Would he be angry, judgmental?
Camilla gulped, meeting his gaze. The land beneath her feet shivered. She felt afraid and angry, but as she looked at Marlon, she realized something else.
He cared . He’d take care of her, just like he had from the start. If she told him about her late fee, Marlon would stand beside her, build her up. He’d help her, just like he said he would. She opened her mouth?—
“You can’t even say anything?” Marlon asked, lips twisted. “You’re just standing there when I’m begging to help you? I feel like I don’t even know you, Camilla. Who are you?”
The confession died on her lips. “What?” Her chest hollowed out. She’d never heard him use that tone before.
“So you’ll live in my house for free, you’ll fuck me, but you won’t be honest with me. Is that it?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “I should have known, Camilla. I always give more than I get in return. It’s never worth it.”
“You don’t think I’m worth it?” Her voice was hoarse, disbelieving.
“I don’t know what to think.”
Her lip wobbled, but she turned her head to hide it. This whole whirlwind romance had been too good to be true. This was exactly what Camilla had feared: she’d get attached to Marlon, she’d open her heart, and he’d crush it.
He wanted to control her, just like her parents did, her ex, Frankie. Everyone wanted her to live her life according to the rules they set out for her. Marlon was happy to play the hero when he could carry her away from someone else’s control, but he couldn’t stand it when she stood up to him .
Her heart shattered. It took an instant, as if the hairline fractures had already been in place, waiting for the impact that would break her. She’d thought what they had was real.
“Maybe it’s best if I move out after this,” she said quietly, raw inside.
His jaw hardened. “Is that what you want?”
Her fantasy crumbled right before her eyes. In its place was a man she didn’t know. Her life with Marlon had been a dream. It wasn’t real. The bakery—this place, this cake—was what mattered. She had to gather herself together, re-bake the cake, and deliver it to the wedding on time. Then she had to scrounge up ten thousand dollars and pay off the scumbag trying to extort her.
Had she really thought she could have a home, a man, a family? She must’ve been delusional. Camilla didn’t get to have those things. She got struggle and pain and hardship, and she fought for everything else.
“What I want is to make the Goodhews’ cake,” she told him, “and I’ll be out of your place by tomorrow night.”
Marlon’s jaw clenched. He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes hard. Then he dipped his chin. “That’s probably for the best.”
Her throat was too tight to respond, so Camilla just nodded. She watched him walk away, and another blast of cold air through the open door made her shiver. When he was gone, Camilla wondered what, exactly, had just happened.
Their budding relationship was over. She realized that. But was it because she’d failed to open up or because Marlon had pushed her away? Who was at fault? Could she have fixed the fractures before they’d broken?
Pain splintered in her chest. She hadn’t known—hadn’t realized—it was possible to care for someone so deeply after only a month. She’d been a fool to indulge her urges with him. She should have known it would end badly.
Standing in her kitchen, she let twin tears drop from her eyes. They slid to her chin before she brushed them away with quick, angry motions. Her hands were covered in frosting, so she had to use her wrists.
Camilla allowed herself a moment of hot tears and a few gasping breaths, and then she pulled herself together.
She was on her own, but that was nothing new. Camilla had built this business because it was the only place that had ever been home to her. She looked around the kitchen, trying to remember all the love she’d poured into this place over the past decade, trying to feel it reflected back at her.
She’d built this for herself, by herself. She had to save it.
Then she dropped her gaze to the mess of frosting, cake, and poached pears at her feet. That, at least, she knew how to fix.