Page 33 of Rewrite Our Story

And risk seeing Cade alone?No thank you. I’m not emotionally ready for him to pretend like we didn’t share a moment last night. If I learned anything as a teenager, it’s that Cade Jennings is good at pretending I don’t exist, even if he was crawling into my bed at night. My heart isn’t calloused the way it used to be at him ignoring me but I’m not ready to face him.

I can’t even be mad at him if he does end up acting like nothing happened. How can I be mad at him when his mom just died? The answer is I can’t.

So instead, I’ll avoid being alone with him at all costs. And if that means following Pippa to the conjoined bakery and coffee shop she owns, then so be it.

I fly off the bed and head toward my open suitcase, searching for something to wear. “I want to go with you. Plus, I’ve never seen the shop. It’s time we change that.”

Pippa rolls over on the bed, her feet kicking the air. “I invited you to the opening. You didn’t show.”

A twinge of guilt rattles through me. There were so many things I missed out on because I was too chicken to face Cade—my best friend opening her dream bakery and coffee shop being one of them. I strip out of my pajamas and slide a pair of worn jeans up my legs. “Shittiest best friend award goes to me,” I say, only half-joking.

She purses her lips. “You were busy becoming famous and all. Me opening the shop wasn’t as cool.”

I smack her butt with my sweatshirt before pulling it onto my body. “Shut up. I’m hardly famous. You’re known more around here than I am thanks to your kickass cupcakes.”

Pippa rolls her eyes at me. “You were on like five morning talk shows because your book was sold out everywhere. Admit it, Mare, you’re famous.”

I go back to finishing my makeup, coating my lashes in mascara before we go out in public.

“You were on the news, too. Your mom sent me the link to watch it,” I counter.

Pippa crawls off the bed once she realizes that I’m almost ready for the day. All I need to do is make sure I have my notebook, laptop, and charger to take to the cafe.

“Thelocalnews,” she corrects.

“The video online had tons of views.”

Her dark eyebrows raise on her forehead. “Only because with a name likeWake and Bake Cafe, people thought we were selling weed.”

I laugh. “Hey, if you ever want to dive into that area, you’ve got the name for it.”

She rolls her eyes. “The wake is the caffeine, the bake for, you know—the bakes. There’s no weed to be seen there. At least that I know of,” she adds at the last minute.

We continue to laugh about all the attention she got when she opened—due to the name of her shop—as we make our way downstairs. I stop dead in my tracks when I find Cade sitting at the counter, an open computer in front of him as he holds a mug of coffee to his lips.

Pippa stops at the counter in front of him. She grabs the mug right from his hands, taking a drink of his coffee without even asking.

He gives her an annoyed look, carefully pulling the steaming cup from her grasp. “Pippa,” he argues. “Get your own coffee.”

Pippa gives him an unbothered smile. She shrugs. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t being a traitor and drinking any other blend than Wake and Bake’s.”

He refuses to look over at me, despite me stopping in the kitchen to join them. “I think you’ve thrown away all evidence of any other coffee beans in the house except the ones that have come from you.”

“As it should be,” she says proudly. Pippa focuses on me, turning her back to her brother. “Are you fine with waiting on coffee until we get to the cafe? I’ve got an idea I want you to try.”

I look away from Cade, willing him to look at me instead so I can get an idea of how it’s going to be between us. I meet Pippa’s eyes. “That’s perfect for me. I’m ready when you are.”

Pippa grabs her keys from the bowl on the island, focusing on her brother once again. “We’ll be at Wake and Bake if you need us.”

“Goodbye Pip,” he says, taking another sip of his coffee.

I’m shocked by him flat out ignoring me after us spending all night together, but I still follow closely behind Pippa. I’m barely out of earshot when I hear him say. “Bye, Marigold.”

The use of my full name—and the icy tone in his voice—tells me two things. He isn’t going to flat out ignore me. He’s just going to act cold all over again.

Having him look at me with something other than anger was nice while it lasted.

18

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