Page 171 of Never Let You Go

That relationships can’t be based on lies.

What he didn’t say, though, is what he thinks about me being Rita Douglas’s granddaughter.

Apart from the jab about her teaching me deception.

Does he think less of me because of the family I was born into? Or because of what I hid from him?

Does he actually think less of me?

That thought is unbearable, and I tuck it away.

“Thanks for not saying ‘Told you so,’ I tell Sarah the next day. We’re sitting in the hotel’s small dining room. They serve a breakfast buffet that looks delicious, but I have no appetite.

But since I decided I’m staying here, in Emerald Creek, and I won’t be even remotely associated with Red Barn Baking, I whip out my phone and take photos of their homemade granola and muffins, the cute china and silverware, the little bouquets on the round tables. I need to think about my next career.

“Whatcha doin’.”

“Warming a cold target,” I tell Sarah. I show her the touched-up photos of the inn I’ve already posted, and those of the breakfast, all with #emeraldcreekvt.

“You’re really doing it?”

“Yup.”

“M’kay. Maybe still take the exam. Just in case you change your mind down the road? This way, you could still go to the meeting and claim your shares.”

“I won’t change my mind.”

“That sounds a little impulsive to me. I mean, give him a moment to chill out. You two will talk it through after the show. Once he calms down, he’ll get over it. And you can still have Red Barn. If you don’t take that exam in a couple of days, you’re giving it up forever. Think of all the good you could do with that money.”

“Okay. I was impulsive. As I can sometimes be. But I can’t go back on my word. That would be the worst thing possible, after he broke up with me for lying.” I mean, seriously, does she not get it?

“You painted yourself in a corner.”

Yes, I did, I get that. “What else was I supposed to do?”

Sarah drops her spoon with a loud clank and throws her hands in the air. “Gee, I dunno! Tell him it was a shit move to start the discussion in front of what’s her face? Tell him he needs to cool off before making any decision? Ask him if this is his idea of a couple, breaking things off at the slightest misunderstanding? Tell him you’re actually going to need him a shit ton now that you’re supposed to run a baking empire and you have no clue what you’re doing but he does? And more importantly: Ask him if money is a turn off to him? Ask him if powerful women scare him?”

Her face is red when she finally stops to take a breath.

“Where were you when I needed you?” I ask.

She doesn’t answer that non-question.

“You do see my point about the exam, though, don’t you? Now that I told him I wouldn’t go.”

“Yeah, you messed up. If you really want Christopher, I have to say, as much as it pains me, after everything you’ve been through, if you want to save your relationship, that’s probably your last chance.”

I’m at peace with giving up Red Barn Baking, if that means I keep Christopher. It might be reckless, and impulsive, but that’s who I am.

The competition takes place over three days, and the show is live-streamed. Every home and every business in Emerald Creek is tuned into it. The movie theater suspended its regular projections, showing only the baking competition.

The first day, I take a first-row seat early in the morning next to Grace with Skye nudged between us. The whole bakery team is at the front, and the energy coming from them is electric. They whisper technical comments on which contestant is doing what right. When the camera zooms in on Christopher, you can almost feel the front row holding its breath while the back of the room claps and shouts encouragement.

Someone adds closed captioning after Kiara shouts to the back to Shut the fuck up. I silently thank her.

I want to hear his voice, hear his breathing, know how he’s doing.

It’s a real marathon for the contestants, who only get three to four hours of sleep every night.

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