The Stud Muffin and the Cupcake

3. A Helping Hand

The rest of the morning passed in much the same way as it began. Customers could tell she was not herself. They gave her pitying glances and spoke in gentle tones as they ordered their baked goods, as if she would shatter the second anyone spoke a loud word in her direction. She hated the way they all seemed to be handling her with kid gloves, but she appreciated it at the same time. Between customers, she leaned against the wall in the back just out of sight and cried until her eyes felt like they would bleed. When the bell rang to signal a customer, she would dry her red eyes and step back into the front of the store. She was getting nothing accomplished except mourning.

At noon, the ding of the bell brought with it a welcome sight – Zara. They were carrying sandwiches and walking with purpose, and Sierra knew she was about to get the emotional support she needed. She didn't want the lunch, but she accepted it and did her best to eat as much as she could.

“Jason said he has been trying to call you.” Sierra looked up as her friend spoke, forcing herself to swallow a bite of turkey and bread that tasted like ashes and felt like sand in her throat.

“I turned my cell phone off when I got here. He had called and texted all night.”

“I figured.” Zara took a bite of their own sandwich and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “I refrained from punching his stupid face, since he already looked like s**t, but I did give him a few choice words.”

“I'm sure you did.” Sierra paused. “Did he really look that bad?”

“Oh yeah, he looks like he hasn't slept in a year.” Zara looked at Sierra, who had lowered her sandwich and was deep in thought. “No. Sierra, don't even think about it!”

“What?”

“You have to be strong here. You can't take him back.”

“I don't think I even officially ended things. Shouldn't I talk to him?” Zara groaned and rolled her eyes.

“I think throwing your ring at his feet is a pretty solid end...but I also know you won't be able to let this go unless you talk to him. Please give it some time, though. I know how you get.”

Sierra couldn't deny her friend's assessment. She prided herself on being kind and forgiving, and she knew that if Jason was to cry or beg, she would easily find herself unable to hurt him by leaving.

“I can do that.”

She plucked her phone from her purse and turned it back on. Immediately upon booting up, messages began to flood in.

Sierra, please answer me.

I'm so sorry. It was a mistake.

I didn't mean to hurt you.

I wish I could take it back.

Please talk to me.

I can't sleep without you here.

Don't throw away what we have over a mistake.

Please forgive me.

Let's take a trip back to Vermont! You love the leaves.

I love you. I love you so much.

I'm so sorry.

Her heart clenched painfully at the texts, especially the reference to Vermont. Vermont in the fall was her favorite trip they ever took together for many reasons, not the least of which was the fact that Jason had proposed there amongst the gorgeous colors. On that beautiful fall day, with the sun's golden glow filtering through the reds, oranges, and yellows to glint off the diamond he had placed on her finger, she thought nothing could ever go wrong in her life again.

Shaking off the memories, she quickly fired off a text to Jason.

Stop messaging and calling me. Now. I will contact you when I am ready to talk.

She tucked her phone back into her purse. The trip down memory lane had taken away her already pretty non-existent appetite, so she pushed the sandwich away and put her head in her hands.

“Are you okay?” Zara finished their sandwich and looked at their friend with concern.

“Not really. I don't know how to feel.”

“I imagine that's normal.”

“I had so much I wanted to do today and I can't seem to keep myself focused.”

“Can I help?”

“You've already done so much and -” Zara cut her off with a shake of their head.

“Stop that. I'm going to stay and run the front for you for the afternoon. You bake for tomorrow.”

Sierra couldn't argue with her best friend, especially not when they were offering help she desperately needed. The next day's special was French macarons and they always sold very quickly. Her interesting flavor combinations for the light, crispy cookie sandwich brought a constant stream of customers into the shop each day she featured them.

“I appreciate that, Z.”

Six hours later, Sierra was staring at trays filled with French macarons. Zara stuck their head in the back.

“I just locked the door. Are you okay?” Sierra shook her head imperceptibly.

“Yeah, sorry. I'm just thinking.”

“Want to share?”

“Last night, I stood here just like this and looked down at the trays of cupcakes for today. I was so happy then. So much can change in 24 hours.” A sob escaped her throat. “It hurts so much, Z.”

“Are you sure I can't hurt him?” Zara moved to Sierra's side and wrapped their arms around her. “It might make you feel better.”

“It wouldn't. I still love him.” Another sob. “Why do I still love him?!” It was too much. Anguished cries ripped themselves from her throat and she wept as Zara held her.

“You two spent four years together. You were supposed to get married in less than six months. It makes sense.” Sierra said nothing in response. She just sobbed in her friend's arms.

When Sierra had gotten herself together enough, the two of them loaded the display cases with macarons and left for the night. She would be staying with Zara for the time being, and she was really looking forward to a real bed.

Zara had picked up as much of Sierra's stuff as they could and had already unpacked most of it into their guest room.

“Are you sure you want to sleep in here? We can have an old school sleepover in my room, if you want.”

“I love that idea, Z, but I just want to be alone right now.” Zara nodded in understanding.

“I'm right next door if you need me.” Sierra waited until the door was closed, and then stripped off the borrowed clothing and pulled on a tank top and sleep shorts. She laid down in the bed, expecting the tears to come again.

Instead, the second her head hit the pillow, she fell into a heavy, dreamless rest.