Chapter 3
The rental cottage by the lake was beautiful. Quiet. Simple. Calm.
At least one thing had gone right that day.
I took a slow walk through the space, even though there was not much to explore. A few pieces of furniture. A cozy country style kitchen. A narrow bed tucked neatly against the wall. Everything was clean and untouched, as if it had been waiting for someone like me.
It had been an exhausting day. Hours of driving. Running into my ex and my former best friend at the same time. Nothing about that had been part of my plan.
I tried to make sense of it all. How had Ashton and Lynda ended up together? It did not fit. They had never been close. Lynda had openly said she hated him, mostly because he was born rich. She always kept her distance whenever he was around me.
Had I missed something back then?
I dropped my backpack onto the bed and pulled my phone from my pocket.
Several messages from Sissy lit up the screen, each one checking if I had arrived safely, reminding me not to worry about Tristan.
A soft smile tugged at my lips. Thinking of the people who loved me steadied something inside my chest.
I tapped her name and called.
“Bailey! I’ve been worried sick about you,” she answered after only two rings, her voice nearly shouting through the speaker. “I was just about to call you!”
The exhaustion hit me all at once.
“Relax, Sissy,” I sighed. “I’m fine. I just checked into the cottage. But you are not going to believe what happened today.”
I sank onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. Everything that had happened earlier felt like it had wrung me dry. I told myself I had moved on but today proved just how fragile that lie really was. Running away had always been my shield.
“Is Tristan there?” I asked quietly. “Can I talk to him?”
After the chaos of the day, all I wanted was to hear my son’s voice.
“You just missed him,” Sissy said gently. “Adam took him to football practice.”
Adam. Her husband. Still glowing from their honeymoon phase. They had gotten married three months ago after dating for over two years.
“Now do not change the subject,” she added. “Tell me what happened. I can hear it in your voice. It is cracking.”
I swallowed hard.
“Oh, Sissy. I saw him today.”
I told her everything. About the bakery. About Eva. About the moment Ashton walked in and looked at me like I did not belong there anymore. I told her how I ran the second Lynda appeared, how my legs carried me away before my heart could catch up.
“I’m starting to think coming back here was a huge mistake,” I whispered. “I just want it over so I can leave.”
“I’m so sorry you had to face all of that,” she said softly. “And you know I would hug you right now if I could. But Bailey, sooner or later you are going to have to face him. Who cares if they are together? You have Tristan. That is what matters.”
She was right.
“What am I doing, still pining over that bastard?” I scoffed bitterly. “He does not deserve my heartache. They can rot together.”
“That’s my Bailey,” she said warmly. “You are stronger than you think.”
A knock echoed through the cottage.
“Hey, Sis, can I call you back?” I asked, already standing.
“Of course,” she replied. “I will tell Tristan you called.”
When the line disconnected, I walked toward the door. Exhaustion weighed heavily in my bones, yet curiosity pushed me forward. I opened the door, and Eva stood there, smiling brightly, as if the day had not weighed on her at all.
“I hope I am not interrupting,” she said cheerfully. “You left so quickly earlier, so I thought I would bring this to you.”
She lifted a basket covered with a red and white checkered napkin. The warm, buttery scent told me exactly what was inside.
“How did you know where I was staying?” I asked, genuinely confused. “I mentioned renting a cottage, but I did not say which one.”
She stepped inside as if she belonged there, setting the basket on the table. She pulled plates from the cabinet and arranged them neatly.
“I asked around,” she said lightly. “You are the only outsider renting a cottage this month. We do not get many visitors.”
She sat and looked at me expectantly.
Too tired to argue, I joined her. My attention was immediately drawn to the pies.
“Try this one,” Eva said. “It is my own recipe. Marie loved it. One of our best sellers.”
“Eva,” I began carefully, “you know I have to let go of the bakery. That is why I came back.”
She sighed and straightened, bracing herself.
“I was hoping you would reconsider,” she said. “There was a reason Marie wanted you to have it.”
“I don’t understand,” I replied quietly. “She knew why I left. I never wanted to come back here. There is nothing for me in this town.”
“I do not know her reasons,” Eva admitted. “But please think about it. Besides, you would not want a poor, lonely old woman like me losing her job, would you?”
She smiled playfully and stood.
“If the bakery meant so much to you,” I asked, “why did she not give it to you?”
“It is not that simple,” she said. “And I would not know how to manage a bakery on my own.”
She paused at the door and turned back.
“Bailey, I know being here is hard. But try looking at it another way. Maybe this is your chance to come back for a reason. To mend what was broken. To finish what was left undone.”
“No,” I said quickly. “Ashton and I ended things years ago. There is nothing left between us. Nothing to fix.”
She stepped closer and gently took my hands.
“I was not talking about him,” Eva said softly. “When you left this town, you left someone else behind too, did you not? Forgiveness is what you need to truly move on. Family is always worth fighting for.”
Her words landed hard.
“Get some rest,” she added gently. “I will see you tomorrow.”
I watched her walk to her car and drive away, giving a small wave before disappearing down the road.
When I closed the door, my chest tightened painfully.
I knew exactly who she meant.
How could I forget the one person who raised me with so much love, only to disappear from my life without explanation? Did I really want to see him again? To ask why he walked away when I needed him most?
I did not know if I was ready to forgive him after all these years of surviving on my own.
And that uncertainty hurt more than anything else.
.