Let’s Be Forever (Taking Risks #2)

1

ANNA

“Hurry up and get your sweet ass over here. I really want to kiss you.”

That pulls a smile from me. “I’m locking up. Give me a second.”

I flip over the We’re Closed sign and trudge to the small back room of the bakery.

“Happy three months, babe.” Clementine holds two pink-colored glasses my way, handing one to me as she plants a smacking kiss on my cheek. “This has been the best three months of my life.”

We clink glasses and take a drink.

“Apple juice. Nice.”

“You know me. I like the hard stuff.” She tosses her copper hair over her shoulder. “Oh and it’s organic. Only the best for my niece.”

Our attention gravitates to my two—almost three—year-old daughter, Rosie, who sits in a miniature bean bag chair.

She’s holding a pretend play cellphone in one hand and in the other, a pink princess tumbler cup.

Rosie pays us no attention as she dials numbers, holds the phone to her ear, and takes sips.

“You’re the best. Happy three months, Em. Here’s to many more.”

We met two years ago while working in a bar and clicked instantaneously.

She not only loves baking, but she reminds me a lot of Jenny, with her eclectic personality.

Her hair never stays a consistent color, her fashion sense is always changing, she’s often on the go, she’s willing to try anything, and her hobbies frequently switch up.

Though, when we first talked about the bakery, I was unsure about working together.

As much as I loved her, a lot of money would be going into this business, and my daughter and I needed consistency in our lives.

I wasn’t financially struggling per se—I had a little in my savings, though most of it went toward the bakery—but my ultimate goal was to stop living paycheck to paycheck.

She promised she wouldn’t let me down and so far, she hasn’t.

Since we opened up three months ago, money has been coming in slowly, but it is coming in, and I’m able to do what I love and work with someone who is just as committed.

The only thing I didn’t count on was my sitter moving away. That’s why Rosie is here with us and will continue to be. Unless I find someone I trust and who is as cheap as Yara.

“We need to find you a sitter.” Em sets her glass on the counter and hops up on it.

“Tonight would have been perfect for going out and getting drunk. And I just know you’d be getting hit on so much.

What’s the point of looking like that”—she waves a hand over my body—“and not flaunting it. Anna, if I looked like you, I’d be walking around naked all the time. You’re young. You need to let loose.”

I lean against the same counter, arching a brow up at her and suppressing my smile. “Young? I’m twenty-seven and a mom. I can’t—”

Her lips pinch in a grimace, and her eyes sweep over me in judgment.

“Are you forgetting we’re the same age? And you could have twenty kids and that still wouldn’t mean anything.

You’re allowed to have fun,” she says in that reproachful tone she loves to use in times like this.

“I think it’s time you started putting yourself out there. ”

I swish my drink around. “I did and it was bad, remember?”

When we were working at the bar, there was a guy who came in a lot.

He had asked me out a few times and even though I rejected him, he persisted.

I caved only to find out on our first date that he had a girlfriend.

She showed up and thankfully didn’t take out her anger on me, but I told myself I was done dating after that.

She blows a raspberry. “I know, but they’re not all like that. There are some good men out there. They’re not easy to find, but I’m sure if we look hard enough, we’ll manage.”

I mull over it, taking a drink.

No matter what happens, I’m always going to be here. No matter what life throws at us, we’re going to do it together. I promise. Okay?

“Anna?” Em singsongs, waving her hand in front of my face.

I blink a few times, the memory fleeting. “Sorry, I was just thinking about the shitshow that date was,” I lie.

I’d rather talk about anything and anyone other than Sylas and his family. Em doesn’t know about them, and she never will. Some things are meant to stay in the past, and that’s definitely where they’ll be staying if I have anything to do with it.

“Okay, forget dating. Maybe getting laid once in a while would do you some good.”

I scoff in mock affront. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss sex, but telling her that would only encourage her. “I don’t need to sleep with anyone. I’m fine.”

She gives me a judging side-eye. “Sweets, you need it. You’d be less cranky in the mornings if you got some.”

I flip her off. “I told you I’m not a morning person.”

“Or a day person or an evening person?”

“Now you’re just exaggerating. I’m nice.”

“To everyone but me sometimes. You hurt my feelings when you’re mean. I’m going to have to report you to human resources.”

I roll my eyes at her dramatics. “We are HR.”

She chugs the last of her drink. “If you want to leave Rosie with me one of these nights, you know I won’t mind. I’m more than happy to watch her so you can—”

“No,” I cut her off. “My vibrator works just fine.”

“And when was the last time you used that?”

“Ah…” I peruse through my mental files and come up short. Has it really been that long? She gives me a knowing smile. “Shut up. Either way, I’m busy. We have a bakery to run, and I have a kid who doesn’t ever sit still. Remember?”

Granted, she’s staying put now, but it’s been a long day and I know she’s exhausted; otherwise, she’d be running all over the place.

She shrugs. “I’m busy too and I still find the time to take care of myself.”

I push away from the counter, collect her empty glass, and go to the sink to wash up. “And I’m happy for you, but I’m good. I swear.”

She stands next to me, folding her arms against her chest. “If you tell me who he is, I’ll find him and kill him.”

While I’ve never brought him up, Jenny accidentally did once. We all got together after our grand opening and had a few celebratory drinks. She slipped and told Em that he was a piece of shit, among other things.

Em asked about him afterward, but I made it clear I didn’t want to talk about it.

“I promise he’s not worth it. Anyway, I don’t care about him anymore,” I reply evenly despite how my heart shrivels. “I stopped caring a long time ago.”

I’m begrudging myself for not cleaning up before leaving this morning. I gave Rosie a yogurt pouch while I got her breakfast ready, and it was my fault for trusting her. She got a little too quiet and by the time I realized it, it was too late. She’d already gotten the yogurt everywhere.

I knew I’d regret it, but I was already running late.

I can barely keep my eyes open, but the kitchen is sparkling. Rosie and I have already showered and she’s in her crib, asleep. All I need to do is get in bed, but I only have the energy to lie in the living room and stare at the ceiling.

Groaning, I close my eyes as the soles of my feet achingly pulse. Exhaustion aside, I’m okay. I’m not working two jobs anymore, and I get to see Rosie more, unlike before.

This is better than before, I tell myself.

Sure, the apartment is shitty, as is my car, but I’m not depending on anyone.

I make my own money, and while it’s not a lot, it’s better than having none at all.

And I’m not alone. I have Em, and Jenny still lives in New York; she’s just a train ride away. Moving to Boston was good for me.

The worst is over, I remind myself, because some days my brain likes to set alarms off, as if it were telling me that the danger isn’t over.

Forcing myself to stand, I trudge to my bedroom but stop halfway when I hear a knock. I freeze, letting my glasses slide down the bridge of my nose as the knocking persists.

I tiptoe to the door and grab the bat propped next to it, pushing my glasses up. I take a hesitant peek through the peephole. My breath gets caught and my heart staggers, the bat almost slipping from my sweaty palm.

I draw away from the door, blinking a few times, then lean in again, making sure I’m not seeing things. I take a few steps back, unsure what to do. This can’t be real. There’s no way.

I accidentally knock the bat against the door and wince. I have no other option but to open it now.

Exhaling a breath in preparation for the worst, I swing open the door. On the other side, my sister Maya stands with a large duffle bag hanging on her shoulder.

“Surprise!” She holds out a gift bag, a tentative smile gracing her face. “Congrats on the bakery and the baby.”