Chapter Seventeen
I don’t remember the last time I slept long enough to be woken by sunlight streaming in through a window, and I can’t decide if I love it or hate it. It’s so bright, and I feel like I should be halfway through my day already instead of just opening my eyes. I do love waking up in King’s arms, which is going to be a problem if he’s not okay with this arrangement turning into an every night kind of thing.
He’s still asleep behind me, his breaths coming in slow and deep. I wish I could see his face, but I’m not about to move and risk waking him up. I hope he looks happy and at peace. He seems like the kind of guy who worries about things even when asleep, and I hope last night eased some of his tension in the same way surfing does.
Granted, I would have loved to ease his tension another way last night, but I think he was right to set some boundaries.
We went into this marriage with one goal in mind, but I think that goal has changed for both of us. It would be smart to figure out exactly what that means before we take a step in any direction.
King’s phone buzzes on the end table, either with a call or an alarm, and he starts to move as he wakes to the sound. His arms tighten around me, pulling me closer, and he starts nuzzling his nose into my neck with no sign of letting go. I could definitely get used to waking up like this.
“Five more hours,” he moans softly.
“Do you mean minutes?” I ask with a laugh.
“I said what I said.”
The phone stops vibrating, but a second later it starts up again.
He groans.
“Maybe it’s something important,” I say, tensing up a little when I think about my phone all the way out in the pool house. “Maybe you should check, just in case.”
Sighing, he pulls himself free and rolls over to pick up the phone. “It’s Emily,” he says with another groan. “Is it bad that I want to make Meg handle whatever is happening?”
As a ribbon of unease threads through my gut, I snatch the phone out of his hand and answer it. “Emily? What’s wrong?”
“Oh good, you’re alive! I got worried when you didn’t answer your phone because you always answer your phone but King tends to accidentally leave his at home sometimes so I wasn’t sure if—”
“Emily!”
“Right. Um, someone is here at the bakery, and he says he won’t go away until he talks to you.”
I flip the phone to speaker even though King is close enough that he can probably hear everything she’s saying anyway. “Who is he?”
“He won’t say, but there’s a guy with a camera here with him.”
I sigh. That could be good or bad, but it sounds like I need to head to the bakery either way. More than likely it’s related to Home Baked, whether it’s someone from the show itself or a reporter who somehow figured out where I disappeared to.
“I’ll be there soon, Emily. Thanks for letting me know.” I hang up and then exhale all at once, flopping my arm back onto the bed while still hanging on to King’s phone. “Is it bad that the only reason I think I should go to the bakery is because I don’t want to leave whatever it is up to Meg? I still worry she’s going to try sabotage at some point.”
When King doesn’t answer, I turn my head to look at him and find him gazing at me with hungry eyes. Apparently his reservations of last night aren’t nearly as strong as they were before. His expression is enough to catch the sheets on fire.
I can’t stop the smile that curls up my lips. I’m very much enjoying that look in his eyes, but I’m also enjoying the sight of his muscled body limned in soft sunlight as he lies stretched out beside me. “You’re trouble, you know that?”
He brushes the back of his finger across my cheek. “You’re beautiful.”
“I’m probably a mess.”
“I’ve always loved you more when you’re a mess.”
I clamp my mouth shut as a rush of excitement runs through me. King seems to know exactly what he just said, and there’s no embarrassment or hesitation in his eyes. “That’s a big word,” I mutter. And it’s one I haven’t heard him say in almost a decade.
He nods. “I know.”
I need to say something in return—he’s clearly waiting and hoping for it—but all of my words catch in my throat. Yesterday, it was easy to think I could be happy here for the rest of my life, but in the light of a new day, all of my old fears come creeping back in.
I press my palm to his cheek. “Let’s see what’s going on at the bakery, and then we can talk. Okay?”
He nods again, but I don’t miss the disappointment in his eyes before he sits up.
When we get to the bakery half an hour later, there’s quite a crowd gathered around the doors. Whoever is inside, he’s drawn a lot of attention, and I really hope it’s something good and not some kind of impending disaster. The knot in my stomach seems to think I’m not going to like what’s inside.
Holding King’s hand a little tighter, I start working my way through the crowd. Some of them are locals, and they’re quick to make room when they see us, but the tourists are more interested in the man inside than the two people trying to get past them.
I’m ready to start shouting by the time I reach the doors—I could still be in bed with my husband, but I’m stuck squeezing past sweaty Northerners because I wasn’t smart enough to use the back door. Even if this mystery person is someone good, I’m not going to be happy about him disrupting my morning.
I finally stumble inside, King right behind me. Through the mass of people in the lobby, I see the cameraman first, and the knot doubles in size because I recognize him. I recognize the man next to him even more.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I breathe. “Lane?”
Lane jumps to his feet when he sees me over the heads of the crowd. “Georgie!”
Ned, one of the cameramen from Home Baked, quickly lifts his camera to his shoulder and starts filming.
“The idiot ex?” King asks quietly as Lane starts making his way across the lobby. “How do you want to handle this?”
I can’t decide if he’s asking what methods I want to use to throw my ex out of the bakery or if he’s really wondering if I might still harbor some feelings for the jerk, so I do my best to be as clear as possible with the limited time I have before Lane reaches us.
“I’m probably going to need you to hold me back from punching him in the nose. But I’ll see what he has to say before we kick him out.”
“‘We,’” King repeats with a grin.
“Follow my lead?”
“Always.”
“Georgie, I’m so glad I finally found you!” Lane wraps his arms around me, ripping my hand out of King’s as he turns us to give the camera a better angle. “I’ve been worried sick about you ever since I heard you left New York.”
I’ve been in Willow Cove for almost two weeks now. It’s been nearly a month since we last talked. “My phone number hasn’t changed,” I say, squirming out of his almost suffocating hold.
Lane puts his hands on my shoulders. “I’m lucky Cecily told me where you went.”
“Didn’t do that,” Cecily says. For some reason, she’s behind the counter with Emily, the pair of them scowling at Lane. Meg, on the other hand, seems to be enjoying this little show as she leans against the door frame of the swinging door. “I want it on the record that I specifically told you that you can stick your so-called apology up your—”
“You came to apologize?” If I sound shocked, it’s because I am. I don’t think Lane has ever apologized to me. Not in so many words, anyway. He has a knack for saying things that sound like an apology but ultimately put the blame anywhere but on himself.
Lane nods almost theatrically. “The way things went down, I couldn’t… I didn’t want to break up with you, Georgie.”
I fold my arms and take a step back so his hands fall from my shoulders. “Okay. So when you said we were going in different directions and that you couldn’t keep letting me hold you back, that was…not a breakup?”
“That was me being an idiot.”
“I agree with you there.”
“Georgie.” He glances at the camera and then steps in close, dropping his voice to a low murmur. I would believe he really means for what he says to be private if not for the microphone pinned to his collar. “I didn’t want to break up with you. It was the network. They thought we were too perfect of a couple and that maybe a little drama would spice things up again. It was never supposed to be permanent.”
I lift an eyebrow. While I can’t see King behind me, I can practically feel the anger rolling off him in waves. I really hope Ned is keeping King in the frame because this is going to make television gold if Lane keeps being the idiot that he is. “Okay,” I say again, pretending to understand his logic. “And how was kicking me off the show supposed to get us back together?”
Lane’s mask slips for a second, like he didn’t expect me to question his reasoning. “Oh. Well, obviously it was going to be a victorious comeback. Make our viewers miss you before you return as the triumphant hero.”
“I don’t see what’s triumphant about being dumped on live television.”
Frustration sparks to life in his eyes. It’s a familiar sight, and suddenly I’m wondering why I ever thought it was worth trying to make things work with him. He’s never looked at me the way King does, like just having me nearby makes his life better. Lane has only ever cared about himself.
“I told you,” he says. “It wasn’t a real breakup.”
“Maybe you should have told me that before you dumped me.”
“But then it wouldn’t have been authentic.”
“Why are you here, Lane?”
He huffs a quick sigh, looking around the bakery as if seeing it for the first time. He was probably too busy enjoying the attention of his fans to really take in the space I’ve been spending all my time, but he’s seeing it now. And he clearly doesn’t like what he sees. “I’m here to get you out of this dump, obviously. Home Baked isn’t the same without you.”
I laugh, though I don’t feel especially amused. “I know. That’s because the only reason our show did well is because I was on it. Let me guess—you’ve been doing old recipes since I left? Rehashing the few things you actually know how to make?”
Color splotches in his face as a murmur spreads through the lobby and out the door. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I grin as an actual sense of triumph and vindication bursts to life inside me. “You’re not even filming new episodes, are you?” I guess. “They’re just doing reruns.”
“Georgie.” He’s starting to sound a little desperate. “I need you back in New York, babe. No one can do what you do, believe me.”
I gasp when I realize what he’s really saying. “You tried to replace me, didn’t you?”
He pales, glancing at the camera again. This time in fear. “I didn’t—that’s not what I…”
“Did you find her before or after you dumped me?”
“Georgie.”
“And were you just replacing me as your baking partner, or…” I quickly realize I don’t need an answer to that question, and I shake my head. If Lane cheated on me, it’s all the better that I’m free of him. “Honestly, Lane, I’m glad you did what you did because I am way happier here than I ever was with you.”
He scoffs. “In a piece of junk bakery in Nowhereville? This dump is falling apart and looks like it’s one health inspection shy of getting shut down anyway.”
“This dump is my most favorite place in the world,” I snap back at him. “It always has been. And if you had ever pulled your head out of your butt once in a while, you would have known that about me. I talked about Kingston’s all the time. Even on the show!”
“You did?” King’s warm voice cuts through my tirade, knocking my anger down to a simmer rather than threatening to boil over.
I turn to face him, my smile hesitant. He is an exact opposite of Lane, both in appearance and personality, and I can’t believe I ever thought anyone else could take his place in my life. “Of course I talked about Kingston’s. I’ve never been shy about where I learned it all. I like being true to my roots.”
“Georgie,” Lane says sharply, and it’s clear his patience is gone. “I know you’re all ‘hometown quaint’ and ‘average is beautiful’ and all that, but you really need to leave behind the quirks at some point and grow up. You’re not hot enough to sell the cutesy crap for much longer, and no one will take you seriously if you don’t move on.”
Wow.
I put a hand on King’s chest at the same time he takes a step forward with fury. This man’s mama raised him to respect women, a lesson Lane clearly didn’t get in his life. But I don’t need King to fight this battle for me. Though King is clenching his jaw too hard to speak, I can read his thoughts in his eyes clear enough. If I asked him to, he would pummel my ex-boyfriend in perfect view of the rolling camera, and he would do it with a smile.
“Hey,” I whisper, still pressing my hand to his chest. “I’m fine. Lane is just covering his embarrassment with anger. He’s not hurting me.”
There are so many emotions in King’s eyes as he studies my face, most of them warm and comforting as his focus turns fully to me. He’s not a violent person, and it’s obvious he would rather end this conversation and move on to the one we need to have with each other. “Lane is an idiot.”
“Yeah, he is.”
“Georgie,” Lane says, trying to get my attention again. I look at him, but he’s too busy glaring at King as if he’s only just realizing there’s a man standing behind me. “Hey, buddy, that’s my girlfriend you’re undressing with your eyes. Only I get to do that.”
King doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even look away from me. “That’s my wife you’re demeaning, and you don’t get to do anything. I’m going to have to ask you to leave before you insult her any further.”
Lane scoffs. “She’s not your wife.”
King and I hold up our ring fingers in unison, which makes me snort out a laugh. “I was so tempted to hold up the other finger,” I say to King.
He grins. “I’m still tempted.” And then he covers my mouth with his own in a kiss that feels like it’s as much a demonstration of possession as it is a declaration of his feelings for me. Now is not the time for this, given the crowd and the camera and the…okay, I don’t care. I want to kiss this man as much as he clearly wants to kiss me.
I’m about to wrap my arms around his neck when a hand grabs mine and tugs with enough force that my wrist pops painfully.
“Georgie,” Lane says almost frantically, “what are you—”
King moves so fast that I almost miss it. He releases me and then grabs Lane by the collar, tugging him forward and spinning him around. He shoves Lane into the wall hard enough that his head leaves a small dent in the drywall. “I asked nicely,” he says in a low growl. “And now you’ve manhandled a woman without her permission, so I have no qualms about forcefully removing you from our property.”
And he does so, ignoring the gaping stares of our audience as he drags my pathetic ex out to the boardwalk, followed closely by Ned the cameraman.
Cecily is at my side in an instant. “Holy mama, that was attractive.”
I fan my face, though it won’t do much to quell the heat pulsing through me. “Tell me about it.”
“You didn’t answer your phone this morning.”
“I…” There are no ways to explain without her reading too much into things. “I wasn’t by my phone.”
She gasps far more dramatically than the situation warrants. “Then where were you, Georgiana?” My blush must give her the answer because she literally cheers, pulling everyone’s attention back to us instead of whatever King is doing outside. Thankfully, she’s smart enough to drop her voice. “I knew my marriage counseling would do the trick!”
It’s my turn to gasp. “Wait, you wanted us to get together? We didn’t do anything, by the way. The pool house flooded last night, so he let me—”
“Why in the world wouldn’t you do anything when you’ve got a gorgeous husband who would obviously enjoy all the benefits of this marriage?”
I roll my eyes, not bothering to remind her how this marriage started in the first place.
She sighs. “At least my sessions made you finally see the light and figure out what everyone else already knows: you and King are forever goals!”
“But forever means living here in Willow Cove,” I warn her, and for once the idea doesn’t frighten me at all. “I know you’d rather have me back in New York.”
“Of course I would, but most of all I want you to be happy, Georgie. King makes you happy.”
The front door jingles, bringing King back inside. He looks slightly ruffled, his T-shirt wrinkled and stretched, but he’s uninjured, which is all I care about. Plus, he’s heading straight for me, so I can’t complain.
When he gets near enough to hear me, I ask, “What happened to Lane?”
“I’m fine, by the way.”
“I can see that, which is why I asked about Lane.”
Shaking his head, he steps in close and picks up the hand Lane tugged. He presses a long kiss to the soft skin of my inner wrist. “Did he hurt you?”
A little bit, but I’m worried what my husband might do if I say yes. “I’m fine.”
He seems to know I’m lying—he’s reading my mind, like always—but he lets the subject drop and instead kisses my forehead next. We’re still being watched, and I spot several phones recording us, but I’m not about to ruin this tender moment.
“I’m sorry about what he said to you,” he says gently. “None of it is true.”
“I know.” I really mean that, even if King seems to doubt it. “But seriously, what did you—”
“I talked to him.” King smiles a little and then presses a kiss to my jaw. It’s like he can’t stop finding new places to touch with his lips, and he’s going to get us into trouble if he’s not careful. We don’t need to give the internet a different kind of show. “That’s it. And I want nothing more than to talk to you now. Before this thing goes on any longer.”
There is nothing that could stop me from having a conversation with this man right now.
As he threads his fingers through mine, King lets his eyes wander to the brand-new dent in the wall. “Well,” he says slowly, “it’s looking like a new coat of paint is going to be the first order of business when you start the renovations. How do you feel about an off-white?”
I snort a laugh and wrap my arms around him, holding him tight. I think I’m going to like this conversation.