Page 58 of The Sweetest Ingredient

His eyes, dark and heavy, lingered on mine for a moment as he clutched the letter. “This was sweet of you, but I still need time to think this all through, to sort through my feelings. I need space, Kenzi.”

I smiled stiffly. “Got it. I can perfect the art of giving space...with a side of pie, in case you change your mind.”

He nodded, then retreated into his house, leaving the pie untouched, and closing the door behind him. The sound of the latch clicking into place echoed through me, like the final nail in the coffin of our relationship.

With my shoulders slumped, I shuffled to the porch and retrieved the pie. I crossed the lawn to my bike, with my head hanging low. Tears pricked my eyes, and the ache in my chest grew with each step, a dull thud that reverberated through my entire being.

I bit my lip in frustration. “He didn’t even try my apology pie.”

The creak of a spigot made me turn. I spotted an older woman with a sympathetic smile standing in her garden next door, watering her flowers.

“Rough day, dear?”

“Yeah.” I handed her the container. “Here, take this pie. I baked it myself.”

She looked at me quizzically, then took it from my hands. “Are you sure?”

I nodded. “Positive. Enjoy it on behalf of my bruised ego.”

“Thank you, dear.” She ambled away, cradling the pie.

My legs wobbled as I hopped onto my bike and pedaled home. As the sun slowly sank below the horizon, I felt a pang of sadness realizing that happy-endings were only for heroines in books…and not for me.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Hours after trying to apologize to Bishop with a homemade pie and failing spectacularly, I sat on my couch, with a bowl of ice cream balanced precariously on my lap. Mochi relaxed beside me, her attention focused on my melting dessert. We were watching the BBC’s Pride and Prejudice, but even the mini-series couldn’t lift my spirits as it usually did.

“Lizzie, you’re so lucky.” I shoved another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth. “At least your Mr. Darcy realized he loved you before it was too late.”

Mochi let out a soft whimper, placing her paw on my leg.

“Kenzi, dearest,” Lizzie replied from the screen, her tone laced with wit and empathy. “You must give him time. Love is not conquered in a day.”

I blinked. Might be time to switch to low-fat ice cream.

“Ugh, I think I’ve officially hit the deep end of my pity pool.” I stroked my dog’s silky fur. “If I hadn’t lied to Bishop, then I wouldn’t be sitting here in my pajamas imagining Elizabeth Bennet talking to me.”

While I was contemplating whether to drown my sorrows in another pint of rocky road, a knock startled me out of my melancholic stupor. Mochi barked and scampered toward the door.

Pulling myself up from the couch, I pushed the ‘pause’ button on the remote and set my bowl aside.

When I opened the door, I was greeted by the last person I expected to see standing before me—Bishop. The sight of him, broad-shouldered, gorgeous, and intense, made my heart skip a beat, then pound furiously against my ribcage.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low, raspy. “Can I come in, please?”

For about three seconds, my mind wouldn’t turn over. I stared at him blankly, before suddenly remembering I was wearing my flannel dog print sleepwear and combed my fingers through my tangled hair.

“Uh, sure.” I pushed the door wider.

Bishop stepped inside, and Mochi yapped and wagged her tail. He bent over to scratch her behind the ears, then straightened.

I closed the door and smoothed my wrinkled pajama top. “Look, I’m not going to bother you anymore?—”

“I know I haven’t been fair to you and I’m sorry.”

“For what? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I shouldn’t have shut you out like that. I should’ve come to you sooner…the truth is, I missed you. A lot,” he said, the quirk of his mouth accentuating the crease beneath his lower lip. “I was hurt and angry, but that doesn’t excuse how I treated you. You deserve better. Your letter really got to me, tearing down the walls I put up to keep myself safe.”

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