10. Chapter 10
Jake
Iam halfway home when Ava calls. I answer on the first ring. “Did you forget something?”
“Come back.”
Her voice is flat. The warmth from the kitchen disappears before she says another word.
“What happened?”
“We need to talk.”
“I’m turning around.”
She ends the call without answering. Sweet Treats is dark except for the lights above the counter when I return. Ava stands behind it with both hands braced against the wood. The pink apron I wore earlier lies folded beside the register.
Her phone rests in front of her with the screen facing up. I see the email subject line before I reach her.
ELECTRICAL INSPECTION CONFIRMATION.
“You scheduled it,” she says.
There is no point pretending I don’t understand.
“Yes.”
“I told you after the event.”
“The inspection is Monday. That is after the event.”
Technically, I am right. The way Ava looks at me makes it clear that technical accuracy will not help.
“You asked whether I wanted you to look into the lights,” she says. “I said not yet.”
“I didn’t inspect anything.”
“You arranged for someone else to do it.”
“I reserved an appointment.”
“For my bakery.”
“The electrician is busy for the next two weeks. Monday was an opening.”
“You called an electrician about my building without asking me.”
“I wanted you to have the option.”
“I already had an option. I chose to wait.”
I take a breath and try to keep my voice calm. “The lights dimmed twice while the mixer was running. You have two ovens, refrigeration, commercial equipment, and an old panel. That isn’t something I’m willing to ignore.”
Her eyes flash. “You are not willing?”
“That came out wrong.”
“No, I think it came out exactly the way you meant it.”
I move closer to the counter, but Ava immediately straightens. The distance between us feels much greater than the few feet separating us.
“I didn’t authorize any work,” I say. “It’s only an inspection. If you don’t want it, I’ll cancel it.”
“The point is that you asked me what I wanted, and then you did what you wanted anyway.”
I look toward the ceiling lights. They are steady now, but that does not erase what I saw.
“I’m trying to keep you safe.”
“I did not ask you to keep me safe.”
The answer hits harder than it should.
“Someone has to pay attention to this.”
“I am paying attention.”
“Then why are you waiting?”
“Because tomorrow is the biggest event Sweet Treats has ever handled. Because my money is tied up in ingredients and supplies. Because I cannot emotionally or financially absorb another surprise tonight.”
“That doesn’t make the electrical problem disappear.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. Ava’s face changes. Not anger this time. Hurt. I know immediately that I have made the situation worse, but she speaks before I can correct it.
“You don’t think I understand what is happening inside my own business.”
“That isn’t what I said.”
“It is what you keep saying without using those exact words.”
“Ava …”
“You look at this building and see everything I’ve missed. You see a loose hinge, crooked molding, an old latch, flickering lights. Then you step in because you assume you know better.”
“I do know buildings.”
“And I know that.”
Her voice rises for the first time.
“I admire that about you, Jake. I admire almost everything about the way you work. But knowing more about wiring does not give you the right to make decisions for me.”
“I made one phone call.”
“You went behind my back.”
The accusation lands between us.
“I wasn’t hiding it.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
I do not have an answer that helps. I knew she might say no. But I believed the risk outweighed her refusal. Making the appointment felt easier than waiting while something remained unresolved. Ava reads enough of that in my silence.
“My ex did this,” she says quietly. “He would ask what I wanted, decide I was wrong, and handle it his way. Then he’d explain that he was only trying to help.”
“I’m not him.”
“I know you aren’t.”
“Then don’t compare me to him.”
“I’m comparing the way you made me feel.”
I take a step back because that hurts more. Ava’s eyes shine, but she does not look away.
“I kissed you tonight because you asked me what I wanted,” she says. “Because you stopped assuming. For a few hours, I thought you understood.”
“I’m trying to.”
“You only understand when my answer agrees with yours.”
“That isn’t fair.”
“No. It isn’t.”
The softness in her voice is worse than anger.
I look down at the phone on the counter. “I’ll cancel the inspection.”
“You should.”
“I still think the panel needs to be checked.”
“I know what you think.”
“And I’m not wrong about the risk, Ava.”
Her shoulders tighten. “You really can’t stop, can you?”
I should apologize. I should tell her the inspection was not mine to arrange, regardless of why I did it.
Instead, concern and frustration twist together until I hear myself say, “You don’t understand what can happen with wiring this old.”
Silence fills the bakery. Ava stares at me. The second the words are out, I want them back.
She nods once.
“Ava, I didn’t mean …”
“I think you should leave.”
“The event is tomorrow.”
“I’m aware.”
“I can still help with setup.”
“No.”
“The display …”
“I know how it comes apart.”
I look at the woman who kissed me less than an hour ago and realize I have managed to erase every bit of trust she offered.
“Ava.”
“I said leave.”
Her voice does not tremble.
Mine nearly does when I answer. “All right.”
I turn toward the door. The hinge squeaks when I open it. For the first time since walking into Sweet Treats, I do not look up.
Outside, the street is empty and quiet. I stand beside my truck with my keys in my hand, replaying the conversation.
I told myself I was protecting her. To me, the inspection is practical, harmless, and necessary. I never asked what it would cost her to discover that I had ignored her answer.
My phone buzzes before I climb into the truck. The electrician confirms my cancellation request. I stare through the bakery window.
Ava is still behind the counter, but she has turned away from me. I know how to restore things after they have been damaged. But maybe not this time. The worst part is that I’m the one who caused this.