Chapter 20
Bishop had kissed me,and I was still feeling woozy, lightheaded. My boss was basking in the sweet victory of winning the baking contest, while I stood there outside the booth with him amid congratulatory pats on the back and high-fives.
I glanced at my handsome boss with a grin. Bishop’s expression was ablaze with a happiness that echoed the fluttering in my chest.
“Kenzi, you okay?” Bishop asked.
I yearned to draw him close again, to bask in his warmth and rediscover the taste of him. I had never felt quite so alive, so perfectly present in a single blissful moment.
“I’m fine. Just, uh, taking it all in.”
He nodded, his grin wide. “It has been a big day.”
And then, like a soufflé collapsing under its own weight, that knot of guilt settled in my gut. I had to come clean to Bishop about my deception, especially after that kiss.
A kiss that had changed everything.
As people dispersed from our booth, I knew I had to tell him about my fraudulence. The thought of possibly losing my job and Bishop’s affections deflated some of my happiness, but he deserved to know the truth at last.
“Bishop? Can I talk to you in private?”
We stepped away from the stall, Jordan, and the remaining guests. Bishop stopped under the shade of an oak tree, its leafy canopy providing shade from the sun and partly concealing us from the rest of the bake-off. At our stall, Jordan was playing tug-a-war with Mochi over an oven mitt.
“Okay, so this is going to sound really bad, but please let me finish before you freak out. The truth is…” I sucked in a deep breath, blowing it out. “When I first came to Doughy Desires, there was this really funny misunderstanding, and?—”
“Cousin.” Maxwell appeared out of nowhere with an unsettling smirk. “Please, don’t let me interrupt.”
My nerves frayed. This was the last thing I needed right now—Bishop’s nemesis swooping in as I was about to confess my secret.
“Maxwell,” Bishop said through clenched teeth. “What do you want?”
Maxwell folded his arms, glancing between me and Bishop. “I believe congratulations are in order for the bakery’s win, cousin.”
“Thank you.” Bishop nodded curtly, his body taut. “Was there anything else?”
Maxwell sneered, his eyes flashing. “Oh, yes. There’s something you should know about your girlfriend...”
I stared at Maxwell and all the blood rushed to my head. A sense of dread settled like an icy stone in my gut. Where was he going with this?
“Maxwell, I swear if this is another one of your ridiculous attempts to undermine me?—”
Maxwell raised a hand, silencing him. “Your bakery may have won the contest, but let’s be honest, Kenzi’s no professional baker. I bet she couldn’t even tell the difference between baking powder and sugar a few months ago.”
A cold panic gripped me. How in the world does he know?
“What makes you say that?” Bishop snapped, his voice as gruff as sandpaper against wood.
Maxwell chuckled, though the sound held no warmth. “Funny thing, I was out the other day and overheard Kenzi and her friend chatting about how Kenzi’s been lying to you about her baking experience. She’s been deceiving you for months. You see, they were so engrossed in their conversation, they didn’t notice me walking right behind them.”
I grimaced, remembering that exact conversation with Chantel the day she’d visited the bakery and we went for a walk. I distinctly remembered a loud gasp, but when I’d turned, the sidewalk was empty. Maxwell could’ve easily slipped into a nearby shop to hide.
His stare glinted with malicious satisfaction as he watched the play of emotions across Bishop’s face. “The woman betrayed you, and I thought you had a right to know, cousin,” Maxwell said, drawing out the last word with a mocking tone that suggested anything but familial affection. “She’s an imposter, who’s been playing you for the fool. And I couldn’t stand by and watch you be made a mockery of—not when it’s so clear how little she respects you or the art of baking. It’s pitiful, really, how easily you were duped by a pretty face.” Maxwell’s tone was cruel, calculated, and made my blood run cold.
Bishop stared at me, his breathing ragged. I opened my mouth to speak, yet no sound came out. Silence hung between us, taut and fragile, like a thread poised on the brink of snapping.
“Have a nice day.” Maxwell spun on his heel and strode away.
Bishop let out a shaky breath, cheeks flushing. “Kenzi, is this true? Did you lie to me?”
The world tilted as I swayed unsteadily. My mouth went dry and my hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, nails biting into my palms. “I-I was going to tell you, and I never meant to deceive you—I swear!”
Every line on his face hardened, the betrayal etching itself into his features as if carved by an invisible hand. Around us, the festive noises of the bake-off—the cheerful chatter, the clinking of utensils, the gentle sound of the leaves rustling—faded away.
“We’ve been working together for months and you never said a damn word.” Bishop’s eyes squeezed shut, and when they opened, they were a sheltered, dark hue. “I knew you weren’t a particularly adept baker—but not that you had zero experience.”
“Every day I wanted to reveal my secret, and every day I chickened out,” I said, my voice brittle as I twisted my fingers anxiously. “But it wasn’t all a lie, Bishop. I really do enjoy baking, and I’ve learned so much from you. I’m just not a professional baker—but an unemployed graphic designer who really needed a job.”
His expression shifted from shock to profound hurt, each change like a slow twist of a knife in my heart. And in that moment, the space between us grew as wide as the town square itself, an emotional chasm that I had carved with my own half-truths.
“You...you lied to me.” His voice was low, rough.
Over his shoulder, I caught sight of Jordan beside the booth, staring at us. Then he started packing up the supplies. Mochi trotted over to me and sat on the grass.
“I’m so sorry, Bishop. I didn’t intend to mislead you.” My vision blurred, distorting the image of the man I had grown to care for deeply. “I didn’t want to lose my job, and I hoped that if I could learn fast enough and help rebrand the bakery, it wouldn’t matter anymore.”
“But it does matter,” he whispered, his eyes flinty. “You can’t build anything real on dishonesty. My cousin’s right, you made a fool out of me. How can I ever trust you again?”
It was as if a wall had been erected between us, and I couldn’t find a way to scale it.
Mochi barked, and I leaned down to swoop her up. “Please believe me, Bishop, my feelings for you are real.” My voice trembled, the words barely escaping my lips. “When we first met, I just wanted to pay off my debts, but as I got to know you, everything changed…” I held my dog against my chest, swallowing hard. “You showed me what it means to be passionate about my work, and I had the chance to combine my two favorite interests, baking with graphic design?—”
“Are you saying, you used me to peddle your pet treats?” His face remained cold and distant, like an ice sculpture.
“No. You misunderstand?—”
“I can’t believe this. You lied…to me.” Bishop raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t even know who you are now.”
Tears spilled down my cheeks, dripping off my chin. “Bishop, I’m still the same person—the one who loves Jane Austen, who likes to tease you, and tries to make you smile. I may not be a certified baker, but I care about you.”
Bishop let out a shaky breath. The dense silence that descended was suffocating, causing my nerves to spark. Mochi licked my cheek.
“Care? Ha!” He scoffed, his shoulders rigid. “You. Lied. To. Me,” he said quietly, his words clipped. “You’re fired. I’ll mail you your final paycheck.”
Bishop headed to his parked car, leaving me rooted to the spot. He drove off, and I sank to the ground, clutching Mochi tightly against me.
My heart shattered like dropped china, the shards slicing through my insides. Mochi whimpered in my arms as I cried for the love I had found and lost within the span of a heartbeat. It was as if the friendship we had shared was suddenly sucked out of the air, replaced by an icy void that seemed impossible to fill.
“Kenzi,” Jordan said in a soft voice from behind me. “Are you okay?”
“No,” I whispered, a sob catching in my throat. Mochi nuzzled her head against my shoulder. “I lost so much more than a job today…it was stupid to think he could care for someone so dishonest.” I blinked back hot tears. “How could I expect him to trust me again after this?” My voice broke, and I shook my head, unwilling to utter the painful truth that I had screwed up any chance at a real relationship with Bishop. My secret had cost me the man who had come to mean everything to me.
“Maybe he’ll come around,” Jordan said.
I didn’t reply. He handed me a tissue from his pocket, then wandered back to the booth and started dismantling the stall.
I stared at the historic clock tower in the center of the plaza, not really seeing it. Losing Bishop forever was unbearable, like being forced to read a novel without any romance.
With a heavy heart, I stood up. “Come on, Mochi.”
As I staggered away from the bake-off, it felt as though I was standing on the edge of a cliff, teetering at the ledge, with nothing but the empty chasm of loss below me.