14. Daisy
***Daisy***
Icouldn’t look at Flynn the next morning.
I tried to play it off and I might’ve pulled it off if the kids weren’t especially observant and blunt in the morning.
They’d called me out for being weird and my gaze had clashed with Flynn’s before I could stammer out that I wasn’t being weird.
With bright red cheeks clashing with the perfect blue-red shade of my lipstick, I’d dropped a plate of cookies that Hank attacked and tripped over my own feet.
Max had caught me with one strong arm around my waist, making my body overheat even more.
I was a wreck. To avoid needing to speak normally to the kids all day I took them into the village and waited in line with them at the tiny amusement park that was overrun with tourist families eager to capture picture-perfect memories.
The kids had a blast while I tried to stay out of pictures and fielded more than a few questions about my style.
Everyone around us was dressed in normal tourist attire, with shorts and t-shirts, sunglasses and vacation flip flops that would be lost in the back of the closet once they got back home.
They had matching sunburns and matching moms trying to keep everything and everyone together while also attempting to enjoy themselves.
So, when they saw me, in my vintage dress that flared out around my hips and my perfectly placed rockabilly curls, they couldn’t help but stare.
Because of the thoughts playing squash in my mind I couldn’t help feeling self-conscious.
Paranoia made me wonder if there was something on my face that they could see that told them that I was a pervert.
It wasn’t until one of the moms quietly approached me that I realized I was being stupid.
No one knew I was hot for three brothers at the same time or that they all happened to be my ex-boyfriend’s brothers.
The mom who broke my self-hate loop silently and delicately sidled up next to me as we watched our kids screaming happily on the old wooden rollercoaster that I never would’ve ridden in a million years. I felt her gaze flick to me a time or two before she whispered at me.
“You’re her, aren’t you?” Her voice was excited but controlled. “I saw you on TV and when we took our annual family vacation to the beach last year, I made my husband stop in Atlanta so we could visit your bakery.”
A different kind of blush touched my skin then.
I shot her the smile I’d perfected for strangers who felt like they knew me from the television spots I’d done since opening the bakery.
I held out my hand to shake hers to let her know she was right and that she was just as worth meeting as I was. “Daisy. It’s nice to meet you, …”
She shook my hand quickly and let her smile widen. “Samantha. Sam. We’re from Baltimore. If we lived closer to Atlanta I’d be as big as a house by now. Your baking is heavenly.”
My wide smile was real. Even after years of hearing things like that about my bakery, it still made me giddy. “What was your favorite thing? Oh, here. Let me give you something.”
She watched as I pulled a little pouch shaped like a cat from the pocket in my dress.
“I was in love with everything. The croissants were so good that I ate three and then had to stay in bed from how full I was. My husband ordered six of your Mississippi Mud cupcakes and devoured them. We both went back home five pounds heavier.”
I found the card I was looking for and handed it to her. Stuck in my pouch with my license and credit card, it was one of the special gift cards I liked to carry in case I ever ran into a fan or just a serious sweets lover. “It’s enough to make you sick again.”
She took it happily and clutched it to her chest. “You’re so sweet! Thank you so much. Is there somewhere I can tag you online so I can tell people just how kind you are? And brag that I met a celebrity!”
I snorted. “I’m hardly a celebrity. Before you, I was just thinking that everyone here was looking at me like I’d escaped the circus. I don’t hardly use social media. Just an Instagram for the bakery I hired my sister to run.”
As I said that, a small chill ran down my spine.
Brooke had been in charge of it, after she’d insisted on starting a page.
My bakery’s only social media account was being run by the woman sick enough to steal her sister’s boyfriend.
That wasn’t good. I could think of nothing else the rest of the time we were away from the estate.
The moment we got back home I put on a movie for the kids, which they were enthusiastic about, and then sat at the kitchen island with my phone.
I opened my phone and reinstalled the app Wes told me to delete and searched for the bakery's page.
The moment my phone got to where I needed it to get the breath froze in my lungs.
The latest post from the bakery’s page was from just two days earlier.
It was a picture of Brooke and Tyler in Paris with the Eiffel Tower behind them.
Both cheaters were tagged in the photo. They were kissing in romantic mood lighting, her pretty white dress highlighting her tan skin and thin body.
Tyler was in dress pants with his black, button-down shirt casually unbuttoned to his chest. I was pretty sure he’d gotten a spray tan and his hair looked weird, like it was twisting in different directions in the pixels.
Realizing that Brooke had photoshopped the photo would’ve made me feel slightly better if the caption said literally anything but what it did. I couldn’t help reading it aloud, needing to hear it to even begin to appreciate the audacity of my little sister.
“My baby sister, Brooke Harper, is traveling through Europe with her amazing boyfriend, Tyler Calloway. Isn’t she gorgeous? I keep waiting for the day they announce the engagement! Obviously, I’m going to make the cake! Show her some love and watch their journey unfold!”
I had so many thoughts but the one that was screaming the loudest was that I’d never use so many exclamation marks in a post. I wasn’t a cheerleader.
I’d never been that peppy in my life. Brooke was the peppy one.
Brooke was the one obsessed with being an influencer, enough so that she started clinging to me as soon as she realized the bakery was becoming famous.
I scrolled down and saw that she’d turned the bakery’s account into a Brooke and Tyler page.
She was promoting herself constantly and hadn’t mentioned the bakery in weeks.
Fury and embarrassment warred for first position as I thought about people like the woman from earlier that day going onto the Oopsie Daisy Bakery page and seeing nothing but a repetitive, pathetic, begging attempt to grow Brooke’s own social media accounts.
She was probably damaging the bakery’s online reputation with her peddling.
I didn’t need a second to think about what I had to do. I typed out an email to my lawyer, a badass woman named Nancy Michaels. I told her about the account, what I wanted, and when I wanted it. Then I opened my text thread with my sister and typed out a message that had been long overdue.
Daisy: Brooke, I need you to turn over access to the bakery’s Instagram.
I need you to stop using my hard work, my company to build up your fake influencer life while simultaneously fucking my boyfriend behind my back.
Ex-boyfriend now, obviously. You have always been a self-centered, greedy little gremlin but I told myself that you were young and still learning how to be a decent human being.
Well, turns out it’s just who you are. I hope you enjoy life with Tyler.
While you two are finding your way across Europe, maybe he’ll find a woman’s clit for the first time.
This is the end. I want nothing to do with you anymore, Brooke.
I’ve taken all the nastiness you’ve handed me over the years but I’m done.
My lawyer will be in touch if you don’t send over the login information for the account.
I hit send and then stood up and paced away from the phone.
I’d never cut ties with anyone in my life, even when they more than deserved it.
It was a personality flaw, the way I’d continue to accept absolute shit from everyone in my life, and it didn’t escape my notice that the person I ended my lifelong pattern with was my own sister.
Maybe it was the only way. After all, our parents, and later her, had built that exact flaw in me.
Walking back to my phone, I turned it over so I wouldn’t see the screen if it lit up and then I did what I did best. I started baking.