Chapter 25
Drop the gloves – engage in a fight with someone no matter how much you don’t actually want to talk to said someone
Rowan
Bryan enters the bakery kitchen and stops dead in his tracks when he sees me. His gaze roams over me as he appraises me. “Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”
I grunt.
He wags a finger at me. “Nuh-uh. I’m not your girl, Ashlyn. I can’t interpret your grunts.”
She’s not my girl. Damn. I wish she were, but she can’t be. I can’t make a woman happy, and Ash deserves to be happy and have all her wishes come true.
“I’m fine,” I tell him instead of explaining all the thoughts rattling around my brain.
He huffs. “You are not fine. You’re doing it again.”
“What? Baking?” I pretend I don’t know what he’s talking about.
He ignores my response. I can’t blame him. It was pretty asinine. “You’ve got the whole ‘I don’t deserve a woman’ appearance on your face. Me big man. Me caveman.” He pounds his chest with his fists, but I’m not finding any humor in his drama act this morning.
“It’s true,” I admit to the buttercream frosting I’m using to decorate a tray of cupcakes.
“P-lease. You can’t judge your worthiness based on a marriage to Sandra the Queen Bee of the bitch squad.”
“I’m not.”
He crosses his arms over his chest and taps his toe. “You’re not?” Tap. Tap. Tap. Goes his toe. “Your ex-wife is literally the only woman you’ve been in a long-term relationship with. If she’s not the cause of your ludicrous ideas about your self worth, what else could it possibly be?”
I glance up from the cupcakes to frown at him. “Sometimes I wonder why I befriended you in college.”
He pops his hip out and flicks a hand next to his ear. “Because I’m awesome. Duh.”
“Or I’m a sucker for a person being bullied.”
His lips purse. “I hate bullies.”
The only people who don’t hate bullies are bullies.
“No one deserves to be mistreated because of their sexual orientation. You didn’t choose to be gay.”
“No.” He flips his hair. “But I did choose to be fabulous.”
The corners of my lips tip up in a smile.
“Since we’ve now established I’m fabulous, can we move on to what you’re going to do to win Ashlyn back?”
I’m not winning Ash back. I need to set her free to find her happiness.
The kitchen timer goes off to indicate my bread is ready to be taken out of the oven, which means it’s opening time. “Time to get to work, Mr. Fabulous.”
He sighs. “This conversation is not over.”
Yeah, it is.
He flounces off while I remove the bread from the oven. I arrange the various buns and loaves on a tray before entering the bakery with them.
The line is out the door, so once I’m finished replenishing the display, I join Bryan to help with the customers.