Chapter 18
EZRA
The sofa is drenched in golden afternoon sunlight, and I realize I’ve lost track of time. I sit up, setting Scarlett’s book aside, and scrub my hand down my face. I’m halfway finished with it, and I finally understand the warnings I was given by everyone.
The betrayal, mixed with the need to feel love, emotionally wrecks me. Would it have affected me the same if I didn’t know Scarlett?
I exhale. Probably.
Her words aren’t just gripping, they’re relentless.
Every page has pulled me in deeper, and I’m fully under her magnetic spell.
Heartbreak spills from ink to paper, leaving me raw and unsettled.
She wanted to have his children and dreamed of starting a family with him.
She forgave him when he chose her last at every opportunity.
Scarlett was willing to rearrange her entire life for a man who never loved her.
I stare at the wall for a minute too long, trying to ease this feeling, but it does no good. I don’t pity her, but I’m sad she wasn’t treated right, the way she deserves. Learning about this stings more than I thought possible.
It’s not jealousy that I’m feeling. It’s frustration. I hate knowing this man left her feeling unworthy and unwanted, even years after the fact.
My phone vibrates, breaking my train of thought. Millie’s photo pops up on the screen, and I answer, grateful for the interruption.
“Hey, Aunt Millie.”
“Ezra,” she sings, “I went to the shop to visit you today during my lunch break and heard you took two weeks off.”
I chuckle. “You suggested it last month.”
“You’re right, but I have a feeling it wasn’t my suggestion that changed your mind.” She pauses for a second, giving me enough time to share openly, but I don’t say a word. “So, what have you been up to today? Hanging out with Scarlett?”
“I guess you could say that. I’ve been lost in her book since breakfast.”
“Which one?” she asks.
“My Everything,” I say, glancing at the cover.
Millie sucks air in through her teeth. “And?”
“It’s wrecking me.”
“Told you,” she says. “That girl knows how to reach right into your chest and squeeze.”
“No kidding,” I mutter.
“Now, are you gonna come see me today? I baked you and Scarlett a pecan pie, like I promised,” she says.
I chuckle. “You know I can’t pass up pie.”
She hums thoughtfully. “And it’s still warm.”
“Okay, okay. I’m putting on my shoes. Do you need anything?”
“Nope, just bring yourself. And Scarlett, if you want,” she says.
“She’s under a deadline and isn’t doing anything but working. Can’t disturb her until she finishes it.”
“Oh, she’s working on Her Forever?”
I freeze in place. “Huh?”
“That’s the title for her next book. Her Forever,” Millie says.
A chill runs up my spine.
My aunt laughs. “Okay. Well. A few customers just walked in. I’ll see you, okay?”
“Yep,” I say, ending the call.
I text Scarlett.
Ezra
Your next book is titled Her Forever?
Scarlett
Yep. It sure is.
Ezra
Is forever a possibility?
Her three dots pop up and then disappear.
Scarlett
I want to find out.
Scarlett
As long as you do.
Her words make me smile, and it’s not the first time that’s happened today.
Ezra
Of course. Do you need anything? I’m going to visit my aunt in town.
Scarlett
I need six hundred and seventy-two words and a lot of coffee.
Even a simple text from her has me cheesing.
Ezra
I’ll start a pot for you. Help yourself. Unless you want to join me?
Scarlett
I can’t. I’m sorry!
Ezra
Don’t apologize. I understand how deadlines call!
Scarlett
Thank you!
Ezra
Welcome! Coffee will be ready in five-ish.
I slip my phone into my pocket and stretch, stiff after staying in one place too long. I move to the kitchen and make Scarlett a fresh pot of coffee, adding an extra scoop so it’s stronger. I’ll make sure she gets anything she asks for.
On the way to town, I tap my fingers on the steering wheel. School started last week, so traffic around the tourist area, where my aunt’s bakery is located, is less busy than usual. I park my truck right up front.
The familiar jingle above the bakery door greets me like a warm welcome as the scent of fresh-baked pastries and sugary warmth envelops me. That smell reminds me of my childhood, and it’s tied to almost every memory I have of Millie.
Behind the counter, my aunt glances up, and her brown eyes sparkle when she sees me. She wipes her flour-covered hands on her apron before coming around the counter.
“Well, it’s about time,” she teases, drawing me into her arms. We’re the only family either of us has left. I don’t take that for granted, and neither does she. “Almost thought you got lost.”
“I was lost, remember? Between some pages.” I chuckle, holding her for a moment before stepping back.
She studies me.
“You’re different,” she declares, returning behind the counter.
I ignore her, reaching for one of the pecan cookies cooling on the tray. “You’re imagining things.”
“No way,” she replies bluntly, swatting playfully at my hand as I steal another cookie. “You’re wearing that look, the one you have when you’re in love.”
I glance away, biting into the cookie. “Oh, come on.”
Her mouth falls open. “I can’t believe it. You have a crush on Scarlett Collins.”
“I’m not admitting anything,” I say, leaning against the counter, cookie crumbs sticking to my fingertips. “It’s complicated.”
She waves a dismissive hand, returning to kneading dough. “Doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.”
Her helper walks up front, carrying a tray of bear claws. She sets them on the cooling rack and returns to the back to finish prepping.
“Don’t spread rumors,” I tell her.
Millie chuckles. “I’m not. I’m just listening to what everyone else has to say.”
I playfully roll my eyes. “Between you and me, I do like her. But she lives in New York and will be returning.”
“Distance doesn’t matter,” Mille says, still working the bread. Eventually, she cuts it into squares.
“I’ve never met anyone quite like her.”
“You know why, though?” Millie dusts her fingers and the counter with flour.
I shake my head.
“It’s because you weren’t ready for her yet. Still had some life lessons to learn. You know what they say? Timing is—”
“Everything.” It’s something she and my mama always said. The thought makes me grin. “I think you’re right. Had I met Scarlett years ago, I’m not sure I would’ve been—”
The bell on the door chimes, interrupting our conversation. I glance over, and the blood drains from my face.
Sara.
My ex-fiancée stands near the doorway, looking as beautiful as always. Her dark hair is perfectly styled, and her eyes are fixed on me. My gut clenches, not from attraction, but from the unpleasant reminder of the pain she caused me. I straighten my stance.
“Sara,” I mutter. “What a surprise.”
“Ezra,” she says, “I was hoping to run into you.”
“Are you just visiting?” I reply.
“I’ve moved back,” she says. “I missed a lot of things about Charleston.”
I haven’t seen her in over a year; it had been the last time she was in town. She was looking for a hookup, or testing me, maybe. Regardless, she didn’t get what she wanted.
“Well, honey, welcome back,” Millie says in her saccharine sweet tone. “How’s your mama doin’?”
“Mama’s doing good. She told me I needed to stop by and grab a few of those cinnabuns you make.”
Millie grins, grabs a pink bag, and slides two inside. She hands them over to Sara. “On the house.”
I lean against the counter, watching the exchange go down.
“Thanks, Millie,” Sara says, then moves toward the door. “Actually,” she says, turning back to me. “Can we talk? Privately?”
Millie glances between us, and concern flashes across her features. My aunt doesn’t like Sara, for good reason.
“Sure,” I answer, motioning outside. We step in front of the bakery, standing by the large windows. From my peripheral, I can see Millie watching us. I’m sure she’ll read our lips; she’s a pro at it.
Tension tightens my shoulders.
Sara stands in front of me, tucking one hand into a pocket of the tight jeans she’s wearing. Her perfume drifts forward, familiar but no longer inviting. It used to be one of the things I loved about her—the way the scent lingered long after she’d left a room. Now, it feels intrusive.
“How have you been, Ezra?” she asks.
“I’ve been good,” I reply, keeping my distance both emotionally and physically. “Busy.”
She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear—a nervous habit I’ve seen her do countless times. “I went to the shop. Was told you were on vacation.”
“I am,” I confirm, not giving her any more information than what’s necessary.
The conversation grows awkward, but my posture is relaxed. “What did you want to discuss?”
I see vulnerability breaking through her composed facade. “I owe you an apology. For everything. The way things ended between us. I realize now that I was being selfish.”
I study her, seeing sincerity in her eyes that was missing years ago. “I appreciate you saying that, but I’ve made peace with it, Sara.”
Her expression softens. “I know I hurt you. I hurt myself, too. I should’ve never made you choose.”
“I couldn’t give you the attention you need,” I tell her, feeling nothing but a strange sort of calm. “It’s in the past. I don’t live there anymore.”
She smiles. “I know. I don’t either, but I was hoping we could have dinner. I’d love to talk and hang out. See if there’s anything left between us.”
It’s not like Sara to be so direct.
“Uh.” I run my fingers through my hair, not sure what to say, but I know with undeniable certainty that what we had is long gone.
“I’m sorry,” I say gently but firmly. “You know I don’t look backward. I promised you that when things ended, it would be over forever. I meant that.”
“What if you’re wrong?” Her voice trembles. “I’m still in love with you, Ezra. I know it’s been years, but I’ve looked for you in every man I’ve dated since we broke up.”
The admission hangs between us.
I meet her gaze. “I’m seeing someone, Sara.”