Chapter 2
TWO
HOLLY
I’m not sure how long I’m like this, hiding in my office and riding out the pain, but it feels like a lifetime. My back against the wall, I’m back to breathing normally, although tears still slowly roll down my cheeks.
At this point, I’m not even thinking about Jake and our break-up; all I’m able to do is feel.
Feel my heart falling apart. Physically, I’m fine – there are no injuries.
Yet on the inside, I’m in such emotional anguish that I can hardly function.
Distress and suffering follow me like constant companions.
Work is usually my safe space; the business that I own, that’s mine and has nothing to do with him.
I enjoy baking and making things that bring joy to others.
But all it takes is one small reminder, and all of my progress falls apart.
It should make me angry, but I cannot take one more emotion to deal with when all of my energy is going into acting like a functional human.
I need to get back out into the bakery, back to the life I am carving for myself. My employees need to see me as stable and available to help if they need it. Not hiding away in my office crying like a baby.
A timid knock on the door makes me wince. I guess this is a sign I need to get off my ass and back out there, ready or not.
“Holly? Are you okay in there?” Alice’s quiet voice calls through to me. She’s new in town and joined the team a few weeks before the big break-up, so she’s not been around to understand the town’s reaction to Jake moving away and leaving me behind.
Coughing, I clear my throat. “Yes, I’m fine. I’ll be out in a moment.” My voice is too high to be convincing and I hear her hesitate for a moment, clearly wondering if she should stick around and make sure I really am okay. Thankfully, she decides against it and I hear her quiet steps moving away.
“Pull yourself together, Holly,” I mutter under my breath, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes.
I need to get a grip on this heartbreak.
Shaking my head as though it will physically shake off the pain, I climb from the floor, brushing myself down.
I need to keep busy and focus on my business; that is what will get me through this.
Walking over to the small bathroom connected to my office, I face the mirror on the wall and take in my appearance.
I look like I’ve been rolling on the ground.
Wincing I run my hands through my golden hair, re-tying it up into a bun and smoothing back the stray hairs.
There’s not much I can do about my red, blotchy face, but I splash some water on my cheeks in an attempt to cool them.
At least I’m no longer crying. Small victories.
Taking a deep breath, I push open the office door and step out into the bakery as though nothing’s happened. Smiling at Alice and the other bakers, I raise a hand in greeting and move back over to my workstation and my lopsided cake.
Hopefully they will leave me alone and let me get on.
They learnt early on that being nice to me and asking how I was only made the situation worse, and I would break down and be useless.
When I am fully focused on baking, I can lose myself in the creative process and it’s the only time I feel in control.
Thankfully, no one approaches me, leaving me to examine my cake and work out where I went wrong.
I have been trying new methods of baking, using techniques from patisseries in traditional cake-making.
Some of my experiments have been a huge success and are now sold in the bakery shop. Some of them, however, need work.
Tilting my head to one side, I consider ways I can improve the structure of the cake. Reaching for my ruler and dowels, I begin measuring. I’m lost in my task, my happy place, where, for a moment, the heartache dims.
A shadow falls over me, and I instantly know who it is. After all, there is only one person who would dare to interrupt me like this once I’m in the zone: my best friend, Ashley.
“You’ve been crying.” Her voice is accusatory, but I know her anger isn’t aimed at me. “Who do I need to kill? It was that old bird I saw tottering out of here, wasn’t it?”
Snorting quietly, I wipe at the skin beneath my eyes to make sure they’re dry and attempt to pull together the scraps of dignity that I have left.
There’s something wrong with the world if a day goes by without Ashley threatening to kill someone on my behalf.
Taking a deep breath, I wipe my hands on my apron and turn to face her, my fake smile in full force.
Standing at six-foot one, Ashley catches the eye.
Her gorgeous chestnut hair is so perfectly wavy that it constantly makes everyone jealous.
The humidity in the air here just makes everyone’s hair frizzy, but not her.
Glittering brown eyes, perfect skin and a body to die for, she’s everything I wish I could be.
We resented each other at school, until we realised that we got a lot more done when we teamed up. We’ve been inseparable since.
Clearing my throat, I wave her off with a vague gesture. “Someone was just being kind and asked about…” I trail off, not being able to say his name.
Ashley knows who I’m talking about and narrows her eyes, also seeing right through my pathetic attempt at a smile.
“They’re not being nice; they’re dragging up the past. You’re trying to heal and move on, but they come into your place of work and upset you.
” Arms crossed over her chest, she glances over her shoulder, looking for her target.
“Tell me which one of them it was, and I’ll have a word with them. ”
I know without a doubt that Ashley’s idea of ‘talking’ to someone is very different to mine and involves a lot of cursing.
Poor Mrs Lemond would get the shock of her life when she opened the door.
“I’m not telling you. Besides, are you here to look at my cake or just stand around and plot the murder of my customers? ”
“Can we not do both?”
I shoot her a look and she pouts, blowing out a breath of mock disappointment. Turning to my workstation, her eyes lock on my cake. It seems to have deflated even more since I last looked: the centre of the cake is drooping and cracks are appearing on one side, making it lean all the more.
“Oh, wow.” She trails off, her eyes wide as she takes in my disaster of a cake. “Hol, that looks so… interesting.”
Sighing, I brace myself for her blunt feedback. “You can tell me the truth, Ash.”
Scrunching her face up, she shrugs and lets me have it. “It looks like someone sat on it.”
I knew it. Picking up the tray, I stalk over towards the bin, prepared to throw the whole thing away and start again.
“No, no, no, wait!” Stealing the tray from my hands, my best friend scowls at me and scurries back over to my workstation.
Tilting her head to one side, she examines it again, clearly trying to find some redeemable feature of the failed project.
“With the right icing…” Waving her hands aimlessly in the air above it as though it will magically appear whole, Ashley frowns once more.
A laugh bubbles up in my chest as I watch her. This is why I love her so much. She’s blunt and honest to a fault, but she is also deeply caring and, despite knowing next to nothing about baking, she’s still trying to help.
“You’re going to give yourself a headache thinking that hard,” I chuckle, wrapping my arm around her in a side hug. Huffing, we both look at the sinking cake. “I need to go back to basics. I got too carried away with the idea and tried everything at once.”
Hugging me back, Ashley squeezes me tightly. “You’ll figure it out, Hol, you always do.”
Years ago I had trained to be a patisserie chef, but I cancelled my opportunity to fly to Paris and learn from the masters when Jake convinced me to stay.
He was doing well in his training and a band had picked him up.
This was supposed to be his big break, and as such, we would travel the world together.
Branded as a musical genius, he’s able to play five different instruments and had been working towards a record deal for years.
Guitar and piano are the ones he’s most gifted with and he soon caught the eye of a talent scout.
He was my whole life, so of course I turned down my training in Paris to be here with him.
Only, that’s not how it played out and now I’m here in Hampton Grove, alone, and he’s… somewhere, living his whole new life without me.
“Stop thinking about him,” Ash orders, releasing me from her hug and turning me to face her. “This was the best thing that ever happened to you. He was dragging you down. If he had asked you, you would have gone with him and that would’ve been your biggest mistake.”
Ashley has a sixth sense about these things and somehow knows when I’m sinking into my hole of misery. Raising her brow, she challenges me to object, to tell her she’s wrong. I should know by now that this is a pointless exercise, she’s always right, but I’m hurting and need this.
“How? I could have found work in London.” Cringing as I speak, I already know her response. Realistically I know it would’ve been a bad thing to go with him. At the end of the day, that wasn’t a problem, though, as he didn’t even ask me to.
“Hol, you hate big cities. Plus, you’d have to sell the bakery.
That would kill you.” Gesturing wildly, she starts to pace the kitchen, riling herself up.
“That bastard drained everything from you. If he had asked, you would end up following the band around like a puppy and lose everything about you that makes you amazing.” Growling and balling her hands into fists she faces me again.
“I know it doesn’t feel like it now, Hol, but this is a good thing.
Look how successful the bakery is. You don’t need him. ”
She’s right. This bakery has been in my family’s possession for decades.
The Holly and Ivy Bakery now belongs to myself and my sister.
While Ivy, my older sister, doesn’t have much to do with the business other than being a partner, I put my whole heart and soul into it.
Long shifts and hard work don’t both me, and with each cake or loaf of bread I create, I know that this is where I’m supposed to be.
Jake was always jealous of the time I put into the bakery, but it was the one thing I wouldn’t let him take from me. Over time he managed to dictate what I did, wore and ate, but my bakery always stayed my main priority.
My eyes sting at her words and I bite down hard on my lip to stop the tears falling. I’ve shed enough tears. It’s time to toughen up, even if it feels like my heart is falling apart at the seams.
“Right, then,” I clap my hands together, clearing my throat. “What are we going to do about this cake?”