Ex, It's Over! I've Found My Love

5

Skylar

"What would you do if a man walked in the door and asked you to marry him?" I scowl across the table at my friend Zoey. I opened The Fearless Kitten a year ago, and a few days later, Zoey flounced in. She loved the pastries, ooh’d and aah’d about their names, then bought a bunch to take back for her office colleagues. She kept coming back, and we formed a friendship. It’s thanks to her, I’m not completely alone in this town, especially after what had happened to Hugo. It’s because of her, I have a small friend circle.

It's also why I didn’t hesitate to close the shop early today, to accommodate the weekly meeting of the book club run by Zoey’s friend Penny. Besides, given traffic to the shop trails off after six p.m., it seemed like a good idea to me.

I probably shouldn’t keep it open until nine p.m. every day. I probably should also take Mondays off, but I need every penny I can make, and I’ve kept the shop open long hours in the hopes of bringing in more customers. The business that the viral media post brought in helped pay the bills for a few weeks, but the money ran out several weeks ago. Without another viral post, I have no choice but to agree to Nate’s proposition…

No. I cannot. How can I marry him when he doesn’t love me? Quite the opposite, in fact. It’s clear he hates me for having thrown myself at him. Honestly, during our meeting two days ago, I got the impression he was barely listening to what I was saying. He was too busy wondering if the names I’d given my desserts were a joke. Ha. He has no idea what works and doesn’t work to sell pastries. Not that I’ve had much success with it. No, correction, I have had success with it… on occasion. I haven’t found a way to keep the sales consistent, is all.

“Well? Would you marry him?"

“That depends." She surveys her nails.

“On what?

“The size of his bank balance. Then the size of his dong balance.”

I burst out laughing. “Dong balance?”

“Call it the Ding Dong Bell which I need for my p***y to be welI.”

I snort.

“Question is, does he have a lot of money?” Her eyes gleam.

“Enough to help me save my business from going bust, yes.”

“And how about his other asset?” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Does it match up?”

“I haven’t seen it, but from what I’ve perceived? More than.”

“So, what do you have to lose?” She eyes the array of goodies spread out on the table between us.

My heart, for one? Also, I don’t think Ben is going to be amused when I tell him about my pact with his best friend.

“I sense a hesitation, babe.” She gives me her full attention. “By which, I assume that wasn’t an academic question.”

“Probably not.”

She scans my features and her eyebrows knit. “Want to talk about it?”

“Not yet.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but I raise a hand.

“But I will. I promise. Once I’ve thought things through in my head.”

“It’s okay to share, Skylar. You don’t have to try to solve everything yourself. That’s what friends are for. You tell us your problems, and we try to find answers together. That’s how it works.”

Tears prick my eyes. I’m too damn independent. Probably comes from having to entertain myself on my own for hours once Ben joined the Marines. I’d never begrudge my brother his stellar career with the Marines, but it did mean I spent a lot of time in my head. I was never good at making friends in school, was always a bit of a loner. Then I discovered my love for baking in Home Economics and threw myself into learning everything I could about it. I practiced every recipe I found, the results of which I shared with my class. The boys, especially, would gladly eat up everything I made. But so would I.

I grew in all directions, and by the time I was eighteen, I was a size sixteen. Somehow, it consolidated my reputation as a baker. I fit the stereotype, after all—big girl who loves to make cakes and eat them. Which only isolated me further. Which meant, I gravitated toward food even more. Good thing is, it didn’t eat into my confidence—pun intended. I didn’t care much that the girls made fun of my size. The boys loved the food I created. They were kinder toward me. Treating me more like a pal. Not that it made any of them want to ask me out.

I went to the prom alone… and danced with myself on the dance floor. And you know what? I didn’t care. I already had a scholarship to the Master Baker Program. I was on my way to fulfilling my dream, while the rest of them were too busy following the call of their hormones and getting into each other’s pants. Everything was on track. After I graduated college, I worked at a well-known bakery while I saved money and searched for my own place. I was building momentum. Then, I started my own patisserie a year ago. And everything went downhill after that.

My heart squeezes in on itself. My pulse pounds at my temples. But I’m not going to give up. I can’t give up. “I promise, I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

To avoid looking at Zoey, I reach over, grab a C!itasaurus, and stuff the entire cupcake into my mouth. The chocolate sinks into my palate, and the gooey goodness of the cream in the icing instantly laces my blood. Endorphins fire in my brain. I feel that familiar flush of happiness invade my cells. A comforting feeling envelops me. It’s as if a soft blanket has been wrapped around my shoulders.

“Mmm, this is soo good, if I do say so myself.”

“It is.” Zoey picks one of the A1phah0les, and bites into the doughnut. Powdered sugar coats her lips, and her eyes widen. She chews, swallows, then stuffs the rest of it into her mouth. She makes a sound of contentment, then jumps up from her chair, walks over to me and throws her arms about my shoulders. “You’re a genius, babe. When it comes to baking, that is. When it comes to men, not so much.”

“Umm—" I cough at the backhand compliment. "Should I say thanks.”

“No, really.” She straightens, then pretends to flick a tear from her eyes. “That A1phah0le almost made me orgasm with pleasure."

The bell over the doorway tinkles as it closes behind a pink-haired woman bundled up in a coat. She responds to Zoey’s comment by saying, "Isn’t that the main reason to put up with an alphahole? The orgasms?" She beams at me. "You must be Skylar. I’m Zoey’s friend, Summer."

I rise to my feet and hold out my hand, but she repeats Zoey’s performance from a few seconds ago and throws her arms about me. I confess, the last few months, I haven’t been feeling very sociable or wanting to hug people—or be hugged. For some reason, it often makes me feel like crying—I don’t know what that’s all about. Must be the stress of trying to save my bakery. But there’s another part of me that thinks it’s nice to be embraced by my friends and their friends. "The pleasure is all mine."

“I’m so happy you made it.” Zoey claps her hands in delight.

“So am I.” Her smile widens. “This is the one time in the week that’s all mine. My husband stays home with our son, and I’m here to hang out and remember what it was like to be single and have an evening out—without having to keep an eye on my child. Not that I’d change anything, but it’s nice to be on my own for a change.” She laughs.

“Where’s Penny?” Zoey peers past Summer. “Isn’t she making it?”

“Not today. Knight surprised her with a trip to Paris. Newlyweds.” She chuckles. “Mind you, my husband did that on Valentine’s Day. He even ensured the babysitter came along with us so she could take care of our son for the night, in a separate room, and we had an entire twelve hours to ourselves. Heaven.”

The bell tinkles again, and in walks my friend Grace, who’s wearing a bright yellow coat with feathers stuck to it. She’s teamed it with fluorescent-purple platform boots that come over her knees. It should look ridiculous, but she manages to pull it off. She always manages to look striking in the most bizarre of combinations.

“Skylar!" She rushes toward me. “I’m so sorry I’m late. There was so much traffic getting in, it took me twenty minutes to cover that last mile. If I hadn’t been wearing these heels, I might have gotten out and walked.”

“When was the last time you wore flats?" I laugh.

"Umm, never?" She hugs me, and this time, I hug her back without hesitation. I'm getting back in the swing of things, despite Nate’s offer hanging over my head like a looming thundercloud.

"I wanted to leave earlier, but there was a last-minute meeting with the production team on the highlights for tomorrow’s program."

"You look like you need this." Zoey approaches us holding two glasses of white wine.

"Bless you." She snatches the glass of wine from Zoey and proceeds to down half of it before she takes in our stares. "What? I’m thirsty. And it’s been a long day, and I have to be up at the crack of dawn again tomorrow.”

"You’re working long hours," I point out.

"It’s competitive. There are a hundred others waiting to take my place as the host of the Morning Show on the leading TV channel in the country. I need to be on top of my game and ready to work harder than all of them."

"You were good this morning." Zoey raises her glass.

"Only good?" Grace sniffs.

"You were brilliant. Very confident. And you broke the news of that disaster in Argentina without breaking rhythm," I concede.

"It was tricky, but I have to admit, I almost enjoyed it." There’s a glint in her eyes. Grace really does enjoy the challenge of hosting the leading news program in the country. She loves thinking on her feet and reporting.

"You wouldn’t catch me waking up at 4 a.m. every day, not to mention getting dolled up and constantly having to perform for the cameras. And then there’s you, Skylar.” She turns to me. “You not only wake up at 4 a.m. to bake, but you’re behind the counter selling until 9 p.m.. You two have one hell of a work ethic, and I admire it. But it’s not for me.” She shakes her head. “Give me my job as a book editor any day. I prefer to hide behind my computer screen and read manuscripts from the slush pile in my downtime." Zoey laughs.

"I love that all of you have such varied professions." Summer walks over carrying the tray of the goodies I set out earlier. "It makes for such interesting conversations."

A gleam comes into Zoey’s eyes. "Speaking of, there’s one more person who invited herself over."