Page 33 of You Cake My Breath Away

Questions batter my brain, and of course it takes the worst road possible. Archer must be disgusted by what happened too.

Damn it, Tilly.

We were just starting to get along. Almost.

I ball my hands into fists, frustrated at the conflicting feelings bouncing around my chest. Archer hasn’t given me any indication there are unresolved feelings on his side, so it’s ridiculous to feel rejected over something so small.

Trying to take my mind off the fact that Archer left me here, I slide a roll of nails in the nail gun and begin the wood paneling. An hour passes, then two, and still no sign of Archer. Part of me wants to call him to check in, but I won’t.

Chapter eighteen

Tilly

Grandma Tilda, my namesake, used to tell me hate was like drinkin’ poison and expecting the other person to die, but I beg to differ.

Hate is indifference.

It’s the ability to look at someone and no longer feel weighed down by the expectations that come with love, or in my case, attraction.

Her words used to soothe me when I was a child, but as I sit on my back porch, pondering what could’ve transpired between me and Archer yesterday, they’re no longer a balm but a spiked cord wrapping around my heart.

Sunday dinner is today, and I’m not sure I can muster up the energy to go. I spent the last two days working at the bakery and scrolling through dating websites, trying to keep my mind off Archer while simultaneously hoping he’d walk through the door with his crooked smile and tight shirt. I used to think what happened between us was normal third wheel tension, but add that in with the shade I overheard him throwing about my cake at his sister’s wedding, and I’m not sure why I even tried keeping him as a friend in my life.

It’s been years since Claire’s wedding, but I can still hear him saying those same words to a group of friends talking about my baking.Tilly’s only successful because she has supportive parents, that’s it. I bet she’s never had a bad review,he’d uttered while refusing to eat my dessert. Next came the little jabs from his friends,I can’t believe your parents paid forthis, you’re right, her cake isn’t all that good,andshe’s about to get her first bad review.

It almost felt like he’d asked his parents to hire me so he could prove to others that my baking wasn’t that good. It wasn’t enough that he didn’t eat my desserts anymore, he wanted to ruin my reputation with everyone else.

I couldn’t stand to listen to them bash me any longer, so I left. No bad reviews were posted, but Jessie said he dealt with it, and Archer still had a black eye a week later when I passed him in the grocery store. It was what I needed to forget any lingering attraction I had to him when Jessie and I first started dating.

After being the one to constantly try to rebuild the bridge that was broken between us all those years ago, I’m not going to be the one to reach out now. I’m thankful for all the work he’s completed in the bakery, but it’s time to find someone else to help me finish, even if the thought of working with someone else to bring my vision to life gives me indigestion. I rub at the ache in my chest and focus on cleaning my kitchen.

My phone vibrates on the table, and I sigh when I see it’s Shantel.

“Hey Seester.”

“Where are you?” she asks. “You usually beat me to Mom’s.”

Chewing on my lips, I try to come up with an excuse. “I’m not feeling good.”

“Are you sick? Need some soup?”

“No, it’s just my period.” The minute I say it I realize the mistake I’ve made. There are many benefits to being close with my sister-in-law but having synced up cycles is not one of them.

“What’s going on, Til? You don’t get your period for another two weeks.”

“Nothing.” I sigh.

“What did he do?”

“Who?” I ask, knowing damn well who she’s talking about.

“Archer.” Nora’s voice sounds in the background, and I wonder, is he there? Is he listening in on this conversation and wondering how I could be so stupid to think he was attracted to me?

“Nothing,” I repeat.

“If neither of you are going to tell me what happened I’m going to assume the worst.”

A million questions speed through my mind.

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