Chapter 13
TESSA
Idropped the menu back on the table, my brain whirling with every terrible possibility. “What is it?”
Gage exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck like he used to do when he was uncomfortable. “Susan made up the lasagna thing. She was trying to nudge me into asking you to lunch.”
My head jerked back as I blinked. “Oh.”
Three years ago, Gage wouldn’t have volunteered information that made him look a little foolish. His confession was the last thing I expected, but it was annoyingly impressive.
He watched me carefully. “If that changes how you feel about being here, we can get your carbonara to go. No hard feelings.”
He’d just handed me the perfect excuse to walk away. To put distance between us. And protect myself.
But he was being vulnerable in a way that didn’t feel like the Gage I used to know. Unvarnished honesty looked good on him.
“We’re already here.” I opened the menu again, trying to ignore the butterflies swirling in my belly. “Let’s just have lunch.”
The relief that flickered across his face was there and gone in the blink of an eye, but I hadn’t missed it. And I was scared to admit I felt it too.
Lunch passed faster than I expected. We didn’t dive into heavy territory again, but we didn’t dodge each other either. Our conversation was light and surprisingly easy.
Gage teased me about ordering the same thing I always had, while I quipped back that he might as well close his eyes and pick a dish at random since he always wanted to try something new.
We didn’t talk about the past, but pieces of who we’d been slipped through anyway.
Old rhythms resurfacing without permission.
A shared glance over the menu when we saw they still carried the bruschetta we used to split.
The comfortable silence that settled between us while we waited for our plates. A joke we both half-remembered.
It was disorientingly nice. And dangerous.
Because this version of Gage was stripped of the shields he used to hide behind. He felt familiar and foreign all at once. Like muscle memory mixed with something new. And hopeful.
Spending time with him was risky because enjoying his company made it too easy to forget the cost of loving him last time.
Halfway through our meal, my phone started buzzing so much that the vibrations slid it an inch across the table. The screen lit up with a flood of notifications, something that usually only happened when a celebrity customer accidentally pushed me into going viral again.
“Sorry.” I glanced up at Gage. “Do you mind if I check which video is blowing up?”
He waved off my concern. “Please do. From what Susan told me, your social media presence is a big part of what has made your bakery so successful.”
I appreciated how understanding he was and how easily he mentioned that he’d talked to his assistant about me. But I couldn’t explore those feelings right now, not while my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.
The notifications stacked so fast they blurred together, overflowing the screen in a constant waterfall of alerts. Picking up my phone, I clicked on one of them to see which video was being commented on. Except it didn’t lead me to my account. Instead, I had been tagged in a post.
The photo was a screenshot of my profile, which wasn’t that unusual. But the caption horrified me.
Tessa doesn’t deserve her success.
Unfollow her. Don’t buy her cakes.
Women like her make all of us look bad.
“What is happening?” My voice cracked at the end, and my hands shook so violently I almost dropped the phone.
I tried to scroll, but the posts multiplied faster than I could blink. One influencer’s callout had turned into a storm of negativity, quickly spreading through every corner of the algorithm.
My pulse whooshed in my ears, drowning out the restaurant noise.
“Tessa?” Gage’s voice finally pierced the fog. “Talk to me.”
I couldn’t. My throat was too tight. So I just shook my head while my thumb hovered uselessly over the screen. I needed to pin down the source of this, but the posts just kept coming. Each worse than the last.
“Tessa.” Gage reached across the table to rest his hand over mine. “Look at me.”
I couldn’t pull myself out of the spiral, not with the panic clawing up my chest. I was only vaguely aware of Gage flagging the server down.
When she hurried over, he didn’t waste a second. “Can we get everything boxed up, please? And a to-go order of lasagna and tiramisu. Put a rush on it. I’ll make it worth your time.”
He pulled out several large bills and dropped them in the middle of the table. The server blinked and practically sprinted toward the kitchen.
Then he turned back to me, and all that crisp businesslike efficiency softened in an instant. His green eyes filled with concern. “What can I do?”
“I don’t know.” My voice shook. “I don’t know why all these people are saying stuff like this. Calling me these horrible things.”
“You don’t need to convince me of anything, Tessa. I know exactly who you are.”
His confidence in me brought down more of my wall. The only other person in my life who had my back like this was my dad.
I scrolled again with trembling fingers, desperate to pin down the source. Every refresh made things worse. My stomach dropped as comment after comment called me a home-wrecker, a gold digger, or a liar.
And then I saw it.
A gossip account with nearly a million followers put up a post only thirty minutes ago. The photo was of me smiling in front of Hale & Honey on opening day.
The caption was awful.
Sources confirm Tessa of @haleandhoney is the reason Gage Langford’s marriage ended.
Looks like the “sweetheart baker” isn’t so sweet after all.
Hide your husband if she personally delivers your cake.
My mind went completely blank.
I forced myself to hold my phone out to Gage. I didn’t trust my voice, so I didn’t try to speak. I just pressed my phone into his palm.
The moment his eyes landed on the post, his lips pressed into a flat line. Then he lifted his gaze to mine, and something cold flickered in the green depths. “Vanessa is behind this.”
The certainty in his tone made my stomach churn. “But why?”
He dragged a hand through his dark hair. “The gossip mill at Langford Tech is brutal.”
“And swift,” I huffed.
“Exactly.” He tossed my phone gently onto the table, careful even in the middle of his anger. “She must’ve heard you were in the office today.”
I blinked at him, disbelief punching through my panic. “I only got there an hour ago. How could she have done this so fast?”
“She’s apparently very good at getting things done when she’s motivated by whatever twisted idea goes through her head.” His broad chest expanded on a deep sigh. “I should’ve learned my lesson when I found out all the bullshit she pulled three years ago.”
This time, I was the one who set my hand over his. “You couldn’t have known she’d do something like this.”
“Couldn’t I?” he asked, shaking his head. “She more than proved how far she was willing to go to get what she wants. Just because she hasn’t pulled any more shit since we divorced doesn’t mean that she’s okay with how things ended.”
His words struck a nerve. I hated that he’d married Vanessa. That he’d been her husband, even if he never loved her. “I didn’t have anything to do with that, though. If anyone has the right to be angry, it’s me. Not her.”
“Logic isn’t Vanessa’s strong suit.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. This woman had been behind the devastation I’d experienced three years ago, and now she was back to do it all again to the life I’d built from the wreckage.
“Unfortunately, that doesn’t help me at all.
” Proving a negative was impossible, so I didn’t know where to start to battle the lies she’d told about me.
And even if I came up with an idea, negative posts always spread fastest, so it’d been an uphill battle to get views.
“She probably just destroyed my entire business.”
Gage leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the table, his entire focus zeroed in on me. “I’m going to take care of this. There will be a retraction before the end of the day.”
I could only hope he was right…and that it would be enough to save my reputation and Hale & Honey.