Page 19 of Faking It with my Small Town Billionaire

“Which was also obviously Orson’s fault, right? Even though he hadn’t even been born yet.”

Jasmine stifled a chuckle, and Cindy moved her glaring eyes from me to her.

“Well, I see you’ve changed your tune, Lily,” she spat, clearly not able to defend her argument.

“Nope. My tune remains the same now as it always was, Cindy. Anyway, it was good to see you. Have a great day.”

After Cindy had stormed out in a huff, Jasmine let out the roar of laughter she had struggled to contain. I’m sure Cindy heard it outside, but neither Jasmine nor I cared.

“Good for you, Lily,” Jasmine said through her laughter. “The arrogance of that woman astounds me.”

“It doesn’t me,” I admitted. “But then, I’ve known her all my life.”

That evening, I sat Jasmine down and told her the news about the bakery. The woman had tears in her eyes, but her tears were not for herself.

“I am so sorry, honey. I’ve watched you fight with all your might to keep the lights on in this place. Will the proposal from Donovan Enterprises not help you at all?”

“It might,” I said sadly. “But it also might be too late. These things take time, and if I’m honest, Jasmine, I don’t know how much time we have.”

“Maybe we can reduce the prices again,” she offered.

I shook my head. “If we take them any lower, the price won’t cover our costs. The price of our supplies has gone up. Flour, wheat, sugar, everything.”

Jasmine looked as gutted as I felt, and there was a desire in me to try and reassure her, even though I knew it was pointless.

“I’m going to stay open for as long as I can. Okay?”

“Don’t you worry about me, honey,” she said, resting a gentle hand on my arm. “It’s you I worry about.”

“Well, there’s no point. Dad always said things happen for a reason. Even though I can’t begin to imagine how my business closing can be a good thing.”

Jasmine smiled sadly. “Have a little faith.” She raised her eyes heavenwards. “He works in mysterious ways.”

“I’m sure he does. I just wish he’d let me in on his plan.”

Yesterday evening, Orson texted me saying he wanted to come see me, so after another long day of work, I’m now sitting at one of my small tables, waiting for him to arrive.

My mind wasn’t really on the job today, even though Jasmine tried to cheer me up with her divine humming. I wish I had her faith. I wish I could believe that the man upstairs had a great plan for me. The truth is, this bakery has been my life for so long that without it, I don’t really know who I am.

The little bell tinkles as the door opens, and I lift my gaze to see Orson walking in.

“Hey,” he says, and without me having to ask, he locks it behind him.

Once I’ve made us coffee, I sit down again. Orson’s sitting across the table from me, looking troubled, and my mind automatically goes to the meeting at the gym.

“Are you all right? Has something happened?”

“I’m fine,” he says, but his tone lacks the confidence it usually holds. “I needed to see you because…” He trails off. Then he laughs mirthlessly. “Hmm. It occurs to me that I have no idea how to approach this.”

“Approach what? Has the proposal fallen through?” I press, getting more anxious by the second.

He shakes his head. “I’m not here about the proposal.” His words make me frown. “I’m here to talk about something entirely different. It is a proposal of its own, I suppose.”

“For goodness' sake, Orson, will you just spit it out? The suspense is killing me.”

“All right. All right.” He raises his palms at me. Then he takes a deep breath. “I’m here to ask you to marry me.”

If he had slapped me across the face, I wouldn’t have been more shocked; my mouth falls open, nearly hitting the table I’m leaning on.

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