Chapter 30 Savannah
SAVANNAH
“You don’t have to make that face,” Aunt Bea says gently, not looking up from her mug of coffee as we sit at her kitchen counter. “I know what you’re thinking.” She has a familiar softness in her voice.
I exhale through my nose because I don’t believe that she does. Anger consumes me, and I still wilted into his open arms. Sometimes at night, I touch the pillow next to me, wishing he were there. But then I remember why he’s not.
“I shouldn’t have gotten involved with my boss. I probably blew up my career,” I quietly note.
“That’s not what is really bothering you.
” My throat is dry, and I save my words.
“Savannah.” She waits for my gaze, and when she receives it, the half-line on her mouth is comforting.
“It’s fate. The Riverbell, I’ll remember only great years, including you working there in the summers as a teenager and messing up many orders.
” She bubbles a laugh. “But maybe it’s time. ”
My chest tightens. “Julian didn’t let fate happen,” I say. “He tried to take the Riverbell away from you. The place with rave reviews because people love it.”
“I know it appears that way,” she says calmly. “And I also know it isn’t as black and white as that.”
The thought that she’s right scares me.
She reaches across the counter and covers my hand with hers, her grip grounding. “People make mistakes when they’re used to winning. Doesn’t mean they’re incapable of doing the right thing when it matters.”
I swallow. “You’re telling me to forgive him.” My voice rises in surprise.
“I’m telling you I don’t blame him,” she replies.
My eyes burn, with a tear forming because I can’t hold it in any longer. “You didn’t have to take me in,” I say quietly. “You could’ve said no.”
Her grip tightens a little. “But I didn’t.”
“And sometimes it feels like I owe you,” I admit as the words rush out. “Protecting this place. Protecting you. If I let Julian be part of my life—really part of it—it feels like I’m a traitor for being with someone connected to this all.”
Aunt Bea studies me for a long moment. “Oh, Savannah, I would never think that. I also believe that you’re afraid of loving someone new.” She sighs. “Perhaps you’re afraid that it will feel like you’re abandoning me. But do you know why that is?”
I shake my head in loss, and she squeezes my hand.
“You’re allowed to have more than one family.
Having a future with him, well, somewhere in the back of your mind, you are aware that you could be creating a small one with him.
With kids or no kids, but he would be your family if you two are serious. ”
The word family echoes in my chest, and for once, it’s terrifying.
Julian’s world has always been different.
Big, flashy, and a family background that many would consider cold and stale.
It’s not that I’m afraid of any of that.
It’s more, I’m scared he will break my heart when it already feels like I’m abandoning my aunt.
“Everything inside of me aches,” I admit.
“You just need to wrap your head around a few things.”
Sadly, I attempt to smile. “When I started working for him, he looked at me as though I was replaceable. No different from the others. Now? He looks at me like I’m irreplaceable.”
“That’s a perfect sign that his intentions are true.”
I nod slowly, holding onto her hand like an anchor, even as part of me knows I won’t always need her to be one because there is someone else who might fill the role.
Truthfully, I’m aware that my smile appears forced.
Still, I do my best to put on a brave face as I walk slowly along the tables of pie under the white tents.
The last place that I want to be is judging a pie competition with a crown on my head.
Alas, a commitment is a commitment, at least in this situation.
When it comes to relationships, I’m not sure where I stand.
Everything I imagined has come undone. You’re supposed to stay together through thick and thin, but here I am with a hollow heart that might break into a thousand pieces at any moment.
The lady of retirement age looks at me with bright eyes as I approach her table filled with lemon meringue pie.
“Not too tart or sweet,” she says and hands me a fork.
“Similar to people,” I say mundanely because it’s a reminder of Julian’s personality that drew me to him until I was so glued that I really did have to be ripped away when everything imploded. I shake my head to remind myself that now isn’t about my sorrows. “I mean, a good balance.”
Gladly, I accept the fork and dig into the piece that she cut.
It does feel awkward when everyone around me watches as I taste.
The instant zing that hits my taste buds is a pleasant kick that brings my focus to the moment.
“Mmm, that is good. The graham cracker crust is a nice complement to the taste. Better than a normal pie crust.”
She brings her hand to her heart, covered in an apron. “I do think so myself. And lemon meringue is by far better than an easy blueberry pie.” She scowls at the next stall and returns her gaze to me with a bright smile.
“We shall see.” I begin to stroll to the next and find myself in front of a neighbor from my street. Esme is a little older than Julian and is by no means a professional baker, but she hands out homemade pies on Everhope Road to everybody’s delight.
“A classic blueberry pie. Simple yet pronounced. Even picked the berries myself,” she proudly explains.
“I hope they’re not poisonous,” I joke, and she chuckles as she hands me a piece of her pie and a fork.
I’m not sure how much more I can do of this.
One bite of eight different pies is going to kill me on the sugar front.
Then again, it’s all comfort food, right?
The taste of her pie hits right. It would go perfectly with whipped cream, but the competition rules state that only the pie is allowed on the plate. “Yum. It’s fresh.”
“I did my best, considering I have whining children at home and a husband whom I could throttle daily.” She smiles while she holds her palm up. “Lovingly, of course.”
I inhale a deep breath and feel the fragility in me retaking the stage inside me. Bickering can be fun. Or was it always a sign?
“Still, you managed to make a pie.”
She’s in a good mood. I don’t think she’s taking the competition all too seriously, or rather, just having fun.
“Savannah.” Julian’s voice flips all of my feelings inside of me.
My focus is lost as I accept that he’s here.
But I don’t turn around; instead, I stand, staring at the pie, feeling motionless because my entire body is tight with tension.
I don’t even say a word. The air feels sucked out of my surroundings.
“Savannah, look at me,” he pleads.
Esme picks up her whole pie and aims. “Do I need to throw this at him?” she asks me and is dead serious. “Because I will do it.” Ah, fudge, everyone knows my misery lately is because of Julian. My lack of an answer actually causes her to raise the pie a little higher to prepare.
“Don’t do that. It’s a good pie,” I tell her weakly. My eyes pinch together, as though hiding in darkness could protect me, because I can feel him so near, and everything inside me is sinking to the floor, as I’m heavy.
“Please, hear me out.” There is desperation laced in his tone.
Everything around us goes silent, and I decide that I can’t remain like this forever.
Slowly, I open my eyes and turn to see Julian smoldering in dark blue jeans and a light blue shirt, the expensive watch a reminder that money does things to people.
A need for power, mostly. Still, his stubble is a few days old, and his eyes show he hasn’t slept, and there is one thing about them that has me feeling that magnet preventing me from running away.
They’re flooded with deep anguish because he honestly yearns.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I hiss. Briefly, I see my aunt and Elodie to the side. Both give me a sign to hear him out, purely with a reassuring look.
“No, I should. I’ve been waiting for you, and I will continue to do so. Except, you’re too far, and I need you closer. I’m dying here.” He steps forward, but there’s still distance between us, and if I’m honest with myself, I hate the distance. “I’ve been miserable.”
“Yeah, everyone at the office has noticed,” Elodie comments, causing Julian to shoot his gaze at her because we forgot we had an audience. She clears her throat. “I mean, so I’ve heard or something.” She tries to save herself before looking away.
He only gives her a quick blank glance. “Please,” he returns to begging me. “I swear, I will get on my knees and beg every day until you listen.”
That’s bold. And yet…
“Julian, I’ve said it already. I want zero connection to—”
He cuts me off. “Even if I fixed it? Because I have.”
I shake my head. “You can’t fix this.”
“Yes, I can. And I have.”
I stare at him, unwilling to speak but intrigued to listen. Stepping forward, I yank his arm in passing, towing him behind me and leading us away from the tents in a hurry to a place of quiet near the park’s gazebo. Dropping his arm, I create space again.
“Savannah, I meant it when I said I didn’t know about the Riverbell. You believe me, I see it that you do. If I could go back to not being an idiot and missing the fine details, I would, but I can’t. I’ve given all of my shares up. I want zero connection to Davenport.”
It piques my interest and creases my forehead because his connection to his grandmother matters to him, he has held onto it, always. It’s the closest thing that resembles family to him in his world. “You cherish your grandmother, and holding onto a piece of her empire is important to you.”