“Oh. Wow. That’s so generous.” He was always giving toward me when we were together, but that was a lifetime ago. We might’ve been a couple for two years, but your wants and needs are so different when you’re a teen versus now as we deal with adulthood. I’m glad Tucker is taking care of his family.
Yet I can’t help but remember how he took care of me too…
“You won’t meet with him? Go to dinner with him?” Stella asks hopefully.
I laugh. “How much is he paying you to ask me this?”
“Nothing, I swear! I just—I know he feels bad about how he ended things with you,” Stella explains.
“He should feel bad. He broke my heart.” That I can say it so casually makes me feel like I am totally over what he did to me. I’m not holding a grudge.
Okay, maybe I’m holding the tiniest grudge, but seriously. Dinner? With Tucker? Mak
e myself crazy staring at him from across a table while he sweet talks me the entire evening?
I don’t know if I’d have the willpower to resist him. He could probably snap his fingers and have me any way he wants me. Maybe.
I’m not sure.
And for that reason alone, I have to pass. To save myself.
“He was young and stupid,” Stella says.
“We were all young and stupid. It’s what happens when you’re in high school.” I sigh, my gaze going to the window. I should take a walk. Burn some calories while I stew over Tucker and his ridiculous requests. “Tell him thank you from me. I really do appreciate it. But…I’m not interested.”
The moment I say those words, I have regret.
I’m not interested sounds like a lie. Maybe because…
It is a lie. Despite everything, I’m still interested. And curious.
So curious.
We talk a few more minutes, idle chitchat about nothing much, and then finally…
The conversation is over.
And hopefully I won’t have to deal with Tucker McCloud invading my life ever again.
* * * *
I enter Cake Nation at two-fifty-two, breathless and harried, flicking on lights, running back to my tiny office to grab my appointment book and a notepad. I might be a modern businesswoman of the twenty-first century, but I still like to handwrite my client notes, and I keep track of appointments in my planner. Something about writing everything down that helps stick information in my brain, I guess.
I’m still in my office, shuffling through the stack of mail I forgot to look at over the weekend, when I hear the overhead bell ring, indicating someone has entered the building.
“Just a minute,” I call before I head back out into the main reception area of Cake Nation.
The building I’ve leased is small, but it’s all mine, and it’s right next to my sister’s flower shop, which is handy when we meet potential wedding clients. I have an industrial kitchen that takes up most of the space, allowing for all the baking I need to do, and the lobby/meeting area of Cake Nation is very small, yet cozy. I don’t sell baked goods to the public on a daily basis. Mine is more a caterer-type bakery, and it works for me.
The ultimate dream is to have an actual bakery with a glass case displaying the various cakes, cookies, and pies I create, along with breakfast pastries. Maybe I could offer up coffee, too. Keep it open through lunchtime and have sandwiches, paninis…
Dreams. I have lots of them.
“Hey, Maise.”
I come to an abrupt stop when I see who’s standing in the middle of my tiny, cozy spot.
Freaking Tucker.