Chapter Twenty-Six
Ava
The rest of that night was a blur of panic and guilt, with the odd moment of euphoria thrown in for good measure. When my head hit the pillow, I felt like the world’s biggest traitor. I was definitely the worst friend ever.
Because, unthinkable though it may be, not only had I kissed Ben.
I’d liked it.
All I wanted was to tell myself that it was a fluke. A one-time thing. I’d never, ever do it again, and I sure as hell didn’t have any meaningful interest in him. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that none of that was true.
I spent all morning the next day sinking deeper and deeper into the realization that if Ben didn’t have a sketchy past with my friend, I wouldn’t hesitate for a minute to start dating him. I woke way before Jules, who had thankfully been nowhere in sight when I’d returned last night, and got to the bakery at five, just like always. Flipping on the lights, I headed straight for the kitchen and put on my apron. It was time to bake some bread.
I measured the flour. The water. The salt. My body relaxed a little as I went through the usual motions, grabbing the same set of ingredients I used every single day. I took comfort in knowing that every morning when I mixed water, yeast, olive oil, salt, and flour, they came together into the same sticky dough. That the dough always kneaded into the same loaves of bread. Turning on my industrial-sized mixer, fitted with dough attachments, I went to wash my hands, listening to the gentle whir and thud of the machine.
I was getting ahead of myself.
Yes, it was an amazing kiss. Although after the length of dry spell I’d had, any kiss was bound to be mind-blowing. And yes, I was enjoying spending more time with Ben and getting to know him.
But neither of those things necessarily meant he was interested in dating me. Maybe it was a spur-of-the-moment, overtaken by emotions sort of deal. Maybe he only did flings. Maybe I was way overthinking this.
I finished cleaning up my work table and got out the supplies for the next round of dough, swapping out scone and muffin trays from the oven as I went. Sourdough took twenty-four hours from start to finish, so I always made it first. Next was the focaccia, which didn’t take quite as long and would be ready in under three hours—in time for lunch. I had most of the ingredients in the bowl before I got distracted again.
I was allowed to have feelings for someone, even when they were completely inappropriate given the circumstances. It wasn’t like I could control whether or not I found Ben attractive.
What I couldn’t do was betray Jules by dating Ben behind her back. If this was really heading somewhere, I needed to talk to her about it.
By the time I’d finished all three rounds of bread and had scones cooling on wire racks, I had a plan. First, I needed to figure out what Ben really wanted. If he just wanted to mess around, that wasn’t worth pursuing for me. I wasn’t interested in a fling, and it wouldn’t be worth upsetting Jules over.
But if Ben was interested in more than that, I’d have no choice but to get Jules’s blessing before we got serious. This wasn’t the sort of conversation I wanted to have over text, so I determined that the next time I saw Ben, I needed to find out what he was really after.
Then, I could go to Jules.
I let out a breath of deep relief when I hung up my apron and headed out front to start the opening checklist. I’d sorted through the emotional chaos and come out of it with a very doable plan.
My first customer of the day was not one of my regular early birds. I looked up from my bookkeeping when the bell chimed above the door to find Ben’s mom hobbling in with a cane in her left hand, a cast on her right arm and foot.
“Mrs. McKinley!” I called, hurrying to grab the door before it pushed her over. “Are you supposed to be up and about yet?”
She tsked loudly. “I’ve been sitting more in the past two weeks than I have in ten years. If I have to spend one more day staring at the walls in my sitting room, I’ll lose what’s left of my mind.”
I helped her over to a table, pulling a chair out and standing there until she was situated and stable.
“Well, then to what do I owe the pleasure of a visit?” I asked. “It’s awfully early for anyone but a regular to drop in.”
“I do love your baking,” she told me with a wistful smile, “but I had to give up all my treats years ago to keep the diabetes away. Runs in the family, and my numbers weren’t looking good. As much as I’d love to be a regular, a bakery is the last place I should be frequenting.”
I smiled at her. “Lucky for you, I have friends with a multitude of dietary restrictions. My banana nut muffins are fully compliant for all the indulgence, and none of the sugar spikes. I’m working on developing more recipes that fit that bill, but I’ve been preoccupied lately.”
“And that ,” she declared, “is what brings me to your door. I wanted to personally thank you for helping Ben help me with my party.” She took a shaky breath, looking at her hands. “These last few months have been hard on me. I won’t bore you with the details. But nothing gets by my Ben. He noticed, and he saw how much this silly party meant to me. I told him he didn’t have to do anything but bring the drinks, but…” She shrugged, as though that completed the thought.
My heart skipped a beat when she mentioned cooking with Ben. But I highly doubted that Ben had gone straight to tell his mother that he’d kissed me last night. He’d probably told her I was planning to come help him earlier this week.
“I don’t think it’s a silly party,” I told her. “Spending time with the people who matter is the most important thing we can do. There’s no shame in pinning a little happiness on seeing those people. I’m guilty of doing it at every opportunity.”
The girls had pointed it out to me on more than one occasion, that I always made everything into an event. But I felt like if I didn’t celebrate the small things, I’d never have all those memories to hold onto when things got rough. If I didn’t have a million special memories of my parents, I’d feel a lot more lonely without them.
“I don’t think many people see it that way.” Her eyes softened, the deep blue reminding me of Ben’s. “I’m glad you’re the one buying the house. It makes letting go of it a little easier knowing it’ll be in good hands.”
“I’ll take good care of it,” I promised.
“I know you will, dear. And I’d like to invite you to our party on the Fourth. That way you can see how well Ben has absorbed your teaching,” she chuckled.
I managed not to wince in mortification at the implications of said teaching, knowing she didn’t have any idea what had actually gone on last night. A family cookout sounded lovely, but it wasn’t my family.
“Isn’t it just your family?” I asked. “I don’t want to intrude.” I didn’t mention how weird it would be if I was the only plus one that showed, and I wasn’t even dating Ben.
“Nonsense.” She swatted away my protest with her good hand. “I’ve invited some family friends as well. Riley and her family will be there, and a few others that aren’t related. You’ll fit right in, and we’d love to have you.”
“In that case, I’d love to come. Should I bring anything?” I could tell when someone wasn’t going to accept “no” as an answer, and she was doing it to be sweet and inclusive.
“Making sure Ben doesn’t feel too overwhelmed is all I ask. He’s been known to take on more than he can handle and then drown without ever asking for a rescue. Gets that from his father,” she muttered, more to herself. She grabbed her cane, and I helped her to her feet, following her to the door just as I did Mrs. Beatty. “Oh, and I’ll take one of those muffins you mentioned,” she added with a wink before we reached the door.
I flashed her a wide grin. “You got it.”