9. Mariana
Mariana
T he weeks have been flying by as I prepare to re-open The Rolling Pin. I didn’t realize how much I needed to get done to get this place up and running again.
Each day blurs into the next, but it’s been a welcome distraction. Between the renovations and spending every free moment with my mom in the hospital, I haven’t had much time to sit, let alone think.
And, honestly, that’s been a relief. The constant movement and constant noise leave no room for doubt.
Admittedly, it’s been nice being on the go, lost in the hustle and bustle of opening my own place.
My. Own. Place. I still can’t believe I get to say that.
What a dream. How is this even my life? I’m equal parts excited and scared shitless.
I’ve been having so much fun these last few weeks, I forgot what it felt like. Testing out new recipes has been a dream, and Anna is more than happy to be my designated taste tester.
I want to keep The Rolling Pin mostly the same, amplify what already makes it special, while adding my own roots, my own culture.
I’ve been playing around with a coquito cupcake recipe, and I think I’m so close to perfecting it. Anna thinks I’m crazy, that the recipe is already great, but great isn't enough. It has to be perfect. I need everything to be perfect.
After hours of cleaning, I finally collapse onto the floor, which is a reminder that I still need tables and chairs, and let exhaustion seep into my bones.
The summer heat has settled in, thick and relentless, and I take a large gulp of ice-cold water. The condensation drips onto my fingers, and the cool contrast against my overheated skin feels too good.
I need to get the air conditioning running in here. Another thing to add to my never-ending to-do list. Every time I cross one thing off, five more things are added.
The bell chimes softly as the door swings open, and a wave of humid air rushes inside. Anna steps in first, and behind her….Oh. Oh, no. Sebastian.
I haven’t seen him since the school bake sale. He’s in uniform, and damn, he looks good. Broad shoulders, strong forearms, and looking way too damn sexy for me to handle.
My pulse jumps before I can stop it. I need to shut this down. Now. He looks… nice. Like an old friend. A regular old friend. Not someone who used to kiss me with more passion than I’ve ever felt in my entire life. Jeez, Mari. Get a grip.
“Um, friend, it’s looking great in here and all,” Anna says, fanning herself, “but it feels like a million degrees.”
“I’m aware.” I groan, rubbing my temples. “The air conditioner isn’t working, and I didn’t realize how bad it was until today. Now it’s impossible to ignore.”
“Ahem.”
I look up. Right. Sebastian. I still don’t know why he’s here.
“Seb, what are you doing here?” My voice comes out too sharp, my defenses rising fast. I really don’t want him to see me like this, sweaty, covered in dust, barely holding it together.
“Ahh, good to see you too, Mariana.” He smirks, but there’s something behind it, something careful.
“Sorry.” I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “I’m just hot… and tired… and there’s so much I still need to do.”
“Actually,” he says tentatively, “that’s why I’m here.”
I shoot up. “Oh, God. No. Whatever it is, I don’t wanna hear it.”
Sebastian hesitates, his lips pressing into a thin line. He runs a hand through his hair, and did I mention how good he looks in his uniform? Because, yeah. He looks really good.
“Fine,” I huff. “Just say whatever it is before I have a coronary over here.”
Seb nods. “The Rolling Pin needs to pass inspection before you’re allowed to reopen, and I can tell you right now, the place needs some major safety upgrades.”
My stomach plummets. I sit, then stand, then sit again. My vision tunnels, and my chest tightens. You’ve gotta be kidding me.
I was supposed to be done. I thought I just had to clean, refresh the menu, upgrade the furniture and open the doors.
But now…safety upgrades? More expenses? More delays?
How much? How long? I can’t breathe. The panic rushes in, fast and unforgiving.
My head spins as I press my hands to my knees, trying to ground myself.
Anna and Sebastian move at the same time. Anna’s hand lands on my shoulder, firm and steady. “Mari, we got you, girl. I know this is a setback, but it’s gonna be okay.”
Sebastian crouches beside me, his presence solid, anchoring. His hand moves in slow circles against my back, his voice low and steady. “Inhale, exhale, Mariana. Slow, deep breaths.”
I’m hyper-aware of everything. His hand. His voice. The scent of clean soap and smoke clinging to his uniform. The way he feels safe. I do what he says. Inhale. Exhale. My lungs stretch, the panic ebbing away as his touch stays firm, unwavering.
“Good girl,” he murmurs.
My stomach flips. I lift my head, meeting his eyes, and shit, I can’t look away.
“What am I going to do?” I whisper.
“I’m gonna help you,” Sebastian says.
I jerk back slightly, blinking. “Oh no, that’s not neces?—”
“That’s a great idea!” Anna cuts in, grinning.
I shoot her a what the hell look, then glance at Sebastian again. There’s something in his expression that makes me pause. Something real.
“I really want to help, Mariana.” His voice is softer now, insistent. His gaze locks onto mine, steady and sure.
My throat tightens. I stare at him for a beat, then let out a resigned sigh. “…Okay.”
After I agreed to let Seb help with the bakery upgrades, Anna gave me a quick hug and said she had to head out.
Seb explained that I apparently need a new fire suppression system—the current system is severely outdated, according to him.
Great. Just another thing to add to the never-ending list of expenses.
He also said he knows an HVAC guy who can fix my air conditioner, which is a lifesaver because I cannot decorate cakes in this heat.
Frosting would turn into a puddle faster than you can say cupcake, and no one is going to be lining up for something that looks like it barely survived a meltdown, no matter how much they love me or this place.
Seb works three-day shifts at the firehouse, and he helps Analyse with Maya, but he told me he’ll be at the shop on his days off. He even said he could ask the guys to pitch in with Maya. I told him he didn’t have to do this.
I know he already has a lot on his plate, and the last thing I want is to take time away from him and Maya.
But he shut that down fast. Said it wouldn’t be a problem, and he wants to help.
According to him, Andres and Mateo love spending time with Maya anyway, so they’ll be stoked to have more time with her.
That made me smile. The way all these guys jumped in to help Analyse, the way they made sure Maya never felt the absence of the man who was supposed to be there for her—it’s beautiful.
I don’t know all the details about what happened with Maya’s dad, but I know enough. Enough to know that he’s a complete dickhead for walking out on his baby girl and the woman who carried her. At least they have Seb. And Andres. And Mateo. Seb and Analyse’s parents help out when they can, too.
It really does take a village. The thought lingers longer than I expect, settling deep in my chest. Seb never hesitates when it comes to taking care of people. It’s just…who he is.
And maybe that’s why it doesn’t surprise me when, as my brain spirals into panic over the cost of all these upgrades, Seb cuts it off at the root. Don’t worry about the labor. He and the guys will do all of it for free. He can get the parts for next to nothing.
When I get home, the house is dark. Quiet. I glance at the clock. 7:00 p.m. It amazes me how much can change in a year.
Just last year, I was in Seattle, married, trying to convince myself I was happy. And now…now I’m a widow, back in my hometown, coming home to an empty house every night.
And on top of it all, my mom is sick. Every part of my life looks different than it did a year ago, and I don’t know if I’m mourning what I lost or trying to make peace with what I never really had.
Andrew wasn’t a good man. My brain knows that. He did horrific things to me…things I still can’t say out loud. He put me through so much emotional and physical trauma, and I’m better now. I know I am; I’m better without him. I survived him.
But damn sometimes, I feel…lonely.
Sometimes, I want to come home and have someone waiting for me. A partner. A home filled with the sounds of laughter, little feet pattering across the floor, but that’s not my life. It may never be my life, and I need to accept that.
I move into the kitchen, pour myself a glass of red wine, and throw a bag of popcorn in the microwave.
I take a long sip, tilting my head back, fingers pressing into the tension in my neck.
Exhaustion seeps into my bones. I pop a few handfuls of popcorn into my mouth, but the appeal fades fast. What I really need is a hot bath.
One of my favorite parts of this house is the deep, clawfoot bathtub. It’s so deep that when I sink in, the water covers both my knees and my breasts, wrapping me in heat.
I start the water, as hot as my body can handle, and light candles around the bathroom. The flickering glow casts a soft, golden light over the walls, shadows dancing with each slow breath of air.
Undressing, I twist my hair up and clip it. The second my toes dip into the water, a deep sigh escapes me. It’s luxurious.
The heat rushes over my skin, a slow burn that unwinds the tension in my body, inch by inch.
I sink in deeper, letting the water cover me, leaning back until my head rests against the cool edge of the tub.
Steam curls around me. The citrus scent from the candles mingles with it, clinging to my skin, filling my lungs with something warm, something soft.
I'm struggling to find peace within my chaotic mind, endlessly cycling through my relentless to-do list and my obsessive need for perfection. I feel like a tightly wound spring ready to snap.
Closing my eyes, I attempt to calm myself, my hand gently wrapping around my neck, savoring the warmth of my skin as my fingers glide slowly down to my breasts. I begin to circle the nipple on my left breast with a feather-light touch, lingering there, while my other hand cradles my right breast.
My thoughts drift, and suddenly, images of Seb flood my mind—his sculpted biceps, that irresistible dimple when he smiles, and those deep, captivating brown eyes.
Heat surges through my body at the thought of him, and my hand traces a path down my breasts, past my stomach, to the untouched place that craves attention. I gasp as my hand makes contact with those sensitive nerves, my breath catching in my throat.
My fingers move in tight, circular motions against my sex—pleasure mounting, heart racing—as thoughts of Seb dominate my mind. With the first signs of an impending orgasm, my mouth opens in a long, loud moan, my hand moving faster on its own accord, desperate for release.
I spread my legs wider, slipping a finger inside myself; the intense sensation exactly what I needed to push me over the edge. An explosion of ecstasy courses through my body, and I pant heavily, Seb's name escaping my lips in a fervent moan.
I withdraw my finger, my body twitching with the remnants of my orgasm. Breathing deeply, I am both surprised and bewildered by what just happened.
I shoot up so fast I nearly launch myself out of the bath. Oh, hell no. I did not just do that.
My hand flies to my face, covering my eyes as if that’ll somehow erase what I just did. My heart is racing. My skin is warm—too warm.
It didn’t mean anything. It was just stress! Sleep deprivation! The heat! I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, and vow to never think about it again.