Page 45 of Never Let You Go

“She is my apprentice. That’s why I didn’t ask her to babysit Skye.” Though I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t mind. She’s been here all of a week, and she and Skye are thick as thieves.

“Huh,” she says again.

“What.”

“Emma.”

“What.”

“You know what.”

“That’s history, Grace.” There was a time when Emma was coming onto me pretty clearly. She even put it bluntly, once. “We make sense together,” she’d said.

“Ya think she’s one-nighter material?” I’d asked Justin after too many drinks, the desperation of my horniness getting to me.

“Sure thing,” he answered. “One time’s all you need. She’ll have your balls on her mantlepiece. One and done.”

Thank god for sober bartenders. That was the end of that messed-up plan to get me some action.

“She got the message,” I say to Grace. “She’s not stupid.”

“No, she’s not. She’s just… lonesome.”

“Nothing I can do for her there,” I answer.

“Oh, I know,” she says playfully. “Especially now.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

I grab her in a playful headlock and rub my knuckles on her skull.

“Ow! It hurts!”

“I know it does. Trying to drill into that silly skull of yours that there. Is. Nothing. Going. On.”

“For now,” she mumbles under my arm. “I have a lot of money on you. Don’t disappoint me.”

I let go of her. “Seriously? Gracie bear. You, of all people. I am disappointed in you.”

I wrap a galette for her parents and hand it to her. “A week from tomorrow.”

She pecks me on the cheek. “I’m happy for you, cousin,” she says as she leaves.

This betting thing, it’s annoying and it’s nice at the same time. I know everyone here just wants what’s best for me. But Alexandra is a big city girl with a fancy career. She doesn’t want a baker.

I got burned once believing I could be enough. I’m not repeating that mistake.

twelve

Alexandra

The following Thursday, I bounce into the bakery bright and early in the new running shoes I bought at the General Store. It’s not six in the morning, yet here I am, ready to take this day on.

Norwood, a.k.a. Voldemort on my phone, stopped trying to call. He sent emails—same thing. Offering me money to come back to Red Barn.

But I’m right where I need to be. I won’t let him ruin my days. Until I’m back in New York, I’ll focus on the little things. The rest will take care of itself.

The first couple of hours go like a charm.

“You’re on a roll,” Christopher says to me, to which Isaac responds, “Working on your dad jokes?”

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