Page 160 of Never Let You Go

The next few weeks, I mull over what Lynn said. And I know she’s right.

As I walk into the den after closing down the bakery, my insides go soft and fuzzy at the sight of Skye cuddled on Alexandra’s lap. Instead of occupying the couch, they’re huddled together in one of the armchairs, and they look like the poster for happiness. Alexandra lets Skye play with her phone, and she strokes her hair gently, as if she’s been doing that forever. I’ve never been caught in quicksand, but I can bet this is how it feels. Fearing that any move would put me deeper in trouble.

This thing that comes from Alexandra, it’s tenderness, and it looks a lot like love to me. And, fuck, it’s powerful.

I take it all in.

They both look up at me at the same time, flooring me even more.

Skye flashes a gap-toothed grin at me, and I smile back at the two of them, until Alexandra’s soft, piercing gaze is too much for me to handle, and I break it.

As I reach to grab my jar of Maple butter from Skye—I don’t know why we still bother putting our name on the lids—Alexandra slides off the armchair and goes into the bakeshop.

“Alek-zandra, what are you doing?” Skye shrieks in my ear, making me jump.

“I have to transcribe some notes from today’s work.”

“Oooooh, nooooo,” Skye said, rolling her eyes.

Alexandra’s craftsmanship might be wobbly at best, but her theoretical knowledge is impeccable. And I’m not pushing her to master the practical side of baking, because despite my grandiose speech to her the night of her arrival, I know she’ll never be a baker, and that’s all right.

In a few days, she’ll take her baking exam, administered by a French baker currently working in Montpelier. The way the exam is structured, with a grade close to perfect on theory and a decent grade in practice, she’ll pass. That’s all we need. Her and me both.

For reasons that don’t make fucking sense.

“How about you and I go to Justin’s, let Alexandra finish her work, huh?” I say to Skye.

Skye pretends to huff. “I guess,” she says.

“What’s the matter? You don’t want to go to Justin’s, now?”

“Only if Alek-zandra comes, too.”

“I’ll meet you there!” Alexandra says from the bakehouse. “I just need an hour.”

We slide into Skye’s favorite booth, the one at the front where she has easy access to Moose—who is relegated to the very entrance of the pub—and a prime view of the front door, the kitchen door, and the bar. She likes to wave to people, and she keeps tabs on everyone’s comings and goings.

My daughter is turning into the next gen gossip, but somehow, I find that adorable.

“Grilled cheese?” Justin asks her, though there’s no reason to. I don’t think she’s ever had anything else here.

Skye nods with a big smile. “And—”

“And French fries, of course. How about you, man?”

“I’ll have a Sip Of Sunshine while I wait for Alexandra. Are you going to join me?”

“Of course.”

I look out the window to my bakery, where Alexandra is working.

I wonder what will happen to her if she doesn’t pass her exam. Which I don’t think there’s a chance she doesn’t. But still.

Would she lose her job?

Would she still want to go back to New York? She would. There’s no way it’s only work keeping her there.

I’d have to pay off the grant I received within a year. It would be hard, financially. Still doable. But it’s not in my hands anymore.

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