Chapter 38 Piper
Istopped going to the pool.
The truth was I couldn't face him.
His first text came the day after his birthday.
Hey. You okay? Haven't seen you at the pool today.
I stared at it for twenty minutes before responding.
Yeah, just busy. Bakery stuff.
Short. Distant. Safe.
Everything alright?
Fine. Just a lot going on.
The lies came easier than I expected.
He tried calling on Thursday. I let it go to voicemail, then listened to it three times in my car outside the bakery, hating myself a little more with each replay.
"Hey, it's me. Just... wanted to check in. Feel like I haven't seen you in a while. Text me back when you get a chance, okay? I’m just… just worried."
His voice sounded concerned. Like he actually gave a shit.
I deleted the voicemail and went inside to frost cupcakes until my hands stopped shaking.
Friday morning, he showed up at the bakery.
I saw him through the front window—that particular slant of shoulders I'd recognize anywhere—and immediately retreated to the kitchen.
"Megan," I called out, probably too loud. "Can you handle the front for a bit?"
"Sure." She gave me a curious look but didn't ask questions. Good kid.
I busied myself with inventory in the back, counting flour bags I'd already counted twice, listening to the muffled sound of voices from the front. His deep rumble and Megan's cheerful response. The espresso machine hissing.
After what felt like an eternity, the bell chimed, and then… silence.
I waited another five minutes before emerging.
"He seemed worried about you," Megan said, wiping down the counter. "Asked if you were okay."
"I'm fine."
"That's what I told him." She paused. "He didn't look convinced."
I grabbed a rag and started scrubbing the already-clean counter. "Did he order anything?"
"Just a coffee, black. Didn't stay."
Of course he didn't. Because he'd come here for me, not the coffee. And I'd hidden in the back like a coward.
The cake I’d baked for him was still in my fridge at home. I couldn't bring myself to throw it away, but I couldn't look at it either. It sat there on the middle shelf, a constant reminder of my stupidity, perfectly frosted and utterly useless.
Saturday. Sunday. Monday.
I changed my grocery store, started running at night instead of swimming in the morning, and took a different route to work that didn't pass Station 47.
Maya showed up at my apartment on Tuesday night with Thai food and a look that meant I was in trouble.
"Spill."
"Hello to you too."
"Don't 'hello' me. You've been dodging my calls, you missed our standing Sunday brunch, and Mom said you looked 'pale and withdrawn' when she stopped by the bakery yesterday.
" She dumped the takeout on my counter. "So either you're dying or this is about You-Know-Who.
And since you're clearly not dying, start talking. "
I grabbed plates from the cabinet. "I'm fine."
"Piper Elizabeth Hayes.” She used the full name. Shit. "I have known you for literally your entire life. I was there when you were born. I've seen you through chicken pox, your emo phase, and that truly unfortunate high-school boyfriend who wore fedoras unironically. I know when you're spiraling."
"I'm not spiraling."
"You went to that sketchy grocery store on Fifth. Not once, but twice. You hate that place, remember? You once said the meat section smells like salmonella."
"I needed paper towels."
"There are seven other stores between your apartment and that one. Try again."
I stabbed my pad thai with more force than necessary. "I saw him with someone."
Maya went very still. "With someone… someone?"
"A woman. It was his birthday. You know, when I went to drop off the cake."
"That motherfucker—"
"Maya—"
"No. Nope. Absolutely not." She was up and pacing now, practically vibrating with rage. "I swear to God, if he's doing this again, if he's playing you while he’s… I will burn his truck down. I will do it. I'll go to jail. I don't care."
"You can't burn his truck down."
"Watch me. I'll make it look like an accident. Faulty wiring. Happens all the time."
That was Maya, loyal and feral.
"You don't know anything about wiring."
"YouTube exists, Piper. I'll learn." She stopped pacing, turned to face me. "Tell me everything. Every detail."
So I did. I told her about the woman on the parking lot, and the gift bag. I told her about the way they stood close, the arm touch, him smiling.
By the end, Maya looked like she was planning a murder.
"Okay. Okay." She took a deep breath. "I'm going to ask you one question, and I need you to really think about the answer."
"Okay."
"Did you actually see anything happen? Like, did they kiss? Hold hands? Anything definitively romantic?"
I thought about it. "No. They just... talked. She touched his arm once. That’s… that’s it."
"So for all you know, that could've been his cousin. His real estate agent. His fucking dentist."
"She wasn't his dentist."
“Piper… You don't know that! Maybe he has a really hot dentist!
" She ran her hands through her hair. "Look, I'm Team Piper forever.
You know that. If he's actually seeing someone, I will help you slash his tires and egg his apartment and whatever else you need.
But…" She sat down next to me. "But babe.
You're assuming the worst because you're scared.
And I get it. I do. After what he did, you have every right to protect yourself. "
"So what am I supposed to do?"
"Ask him. Straight up. 'Who was that woman? Are you seeing someone?' And if he is—" Her eyes hardened. "—then we burn it all down and never speak to him again. But if he's not, if there's some other explanation... don't you want to know?"
"What if I don't like the answer?"
"Then at least you'll know. And you can actually move on instead of hiding at the sketchy grocery store and avoiding civilization like a fugitive."
My phone buzzed on the coffee table.
It was Liam.
Can we talk? Please?
Maya looked at the screen, then at me. "You can't avoid him forever. Riverside's too small. Eventually you're gonna run into him at the hardware store or the post office or—God forbid—the pool, and then it'll be even more awkward."
"I'm aware."
"So talk to him. Get an answer. And if he breaks your heart again…” She squeezed my hand hard enough to hurt. "I'll be right here. With Thai food and a plan for arson."
"That's illegal."
"That's sisterhood, baby."
I stared at my phone for the better part of an hour.
The apartment was too quiet. Too still. Just me and the hum of the refrigerator and the chocolate-espresso cake I still couldn't bring myself to throw away.
7:43 PM. Late enough that texting felt deliberate, but early enough that it wouldn't seem desperate.
Maybe.
My thumb hovered over his name in my contacts. I'd typed and deleted four different messages.
Can we talk?
Too vague.
Who was that woman?
Too accusatory.
I'm sorry I've been avoiding you.
Too much like admitting I cared.
I saw you on your birthday with someone and I need to know if you're seeing her because I baked you a cake and almost let you kiss me and I think I'm falling for you again and I'm terrified.
Way, way too honest.
I set the phone down, then picked it up again. Stared at the blank text thread like it would magically solve all my problems.
Maya's voice echoed in my head: Ask him. Get an answer.
But what if the answer was the one I didn't want to hear?
The buzzer rang, the sound of it shrill and urgent. I jumped, nearly dropping my phone.
Maya had probably forgot something, or came back to make sure I wasn't spiraling alone with my phone and bad decisions.
I padded to the door in socks and sweatpants, yanking it open without checking the peephole.
"I'm fine, I don't need—"
Liam stood in my doorway.
"Hi," he said.
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Just stood there like an idiot with my hand still on the doorknob.
"You wouldn't answer my texts," he continued. "Or my calls. And when I came by the bakery, you hid." He shifted his weight. "So I'm here. Because we need to talk, and I'm not leaving until we do."