Page 4 of Beautiful Mess

“I’mnothis girlfriend anymore,” I bark, heart pounding from the growing irritation filling me up. “But I already told you that. Guess Cole inherited your poor listening skills, then, too?”

I don’t know where this newfound boldness in me is coming from. Normally I lean more on the side of meek and people pleaser. Probably the fact that I feel about two feet tall and pathetic.

“Fine.” He heaves a sigh, holding up a hand, like he’s attempting to placate me. Like I’m a child. What the hell does he have to be so displeased about? “Even so, you’ve been drinking, Grace, and I’m far too old for you. It’s not happening, end of discussion.”

I huff out a dry laugh as a smile slides into place that, I’m sure, looks maniacal. “Oh, end of discussion?” I retort, my hand trembling as I salute him mockingly. “Oh okay,Dad. Whatever you say.”

Pressure builds behind my eyes as I sit in Conway’s truck, listening to him reject me. Of course, a man like him wouldn’t be into somebody like me. I can’t even get a man my age to be faithful. Why would somebody more sophisticated and established want me? What a fucking joke I am. God, I’m so fucking dumb.

And he’s an asshole, just like his son.

In a hurry, I reach for the handle on the door, and as soon as it’s open, I climb out… Or at least I try to. It’s not until now I realize I’m still buckled in.Stupid fucking seatbelt.And, of course, as I try to unlock it, it jams.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I mumble, nearly groaning to myself. All I want is to get as far away from Conway as possible, and I can’t even get out of the damn truck!

Conway heaves a sigh. “Let me help.”

As soon as he reaches for it, I snap, ripping my hand away. “Fuck off!” I shriek. “I don’t need your help! I’m more than capable of undoing my own seatbelt. A seatbelt I didn’t even want to fucking wear!”

Not listening, he curses under his breath before freeing the buckle and sitting back in his seat. “Didn’t look like you had it,” he grumbles. “It gets stuck sometimes. Grace, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I snort as my feet land on the pavement. “As if you could.”

“Grace…”

“Just leave me alone,” I snap, my vision blurring. The last five minutes have been embarrassing enough; I willnotcry in front of him too. I’ve wasted enough tears on one Levine man this week to last a lifetime, so over my dead body will I shed more on another one. “Be sure to pat your son on the back when you see him. You’ve sure taught him right. Thanks for the ride, asshole.”

I slam the door harder than I probably should, but I don’t care.

First, I get cheated on by the guy I’ve been with for years, the one I lost my virginity to, and now I getrejectedby his dad?

Fuck them both.

The minute I’m in the confines of my childhood bedroom, I rest my back against the door, sliding down until my butt hits the floor, and I finally allow myself to cry. Just one more time. Then never again.

Never again will a Levine man cause me tears.

One

Grace, Present Day, Age 34

“Crap!”

Brushing a rogue strand of hair out of my face with the back of my hand, my eyes find the clock on the wall, realizing how late I’m running. A fact only confirmed when Sara Beth, one of my employees, rounds the corner.

“Girl, if you don’t leave in like”—she checks the time on her smart watch—“right freaking now, you’re going to be late.”

She grabs her apron from the hook on the wall, tying it around her waist as I groan and tug the trash bag out of the bin in the corner. “I know, I know. I lost track of time, but I’m leaving as soon as I take this to the dumpster. Don’t worry.”

The truth is, it’s been a hectic day. A hectic day that is whollymyfault. Two separate orders came in this morning, both rushes that needed to be donetoday. Apparently, one forgot it was her grandma’s 80th birthday, and the other “swore”she placed the order with me online, but didn’t.

Spoiler alert: I don’t have online ordering, and I never have.

She was lying, but it was for her boss’s retirement party, and I couldn’t say no. Especially when her boss is Richard Meyers, our town’s beloved fire chief. But honestly, fire chief or not, I can never say no; it’s how I always find myself in these predicaments. So, in addition to all the regular baking I do on a daily basis to keep the bakery stocked and the other orders I already had on the books, I had to squeeze in a twelve-inch round cakewithfondant decorations and three dozen red velvet cupcakes.

In my mind, it was doable. I was going to get it all done with time to spare so I wouldn’t be late to the first PTA meeting of the year at my kids’ school. This will be my third year on the PTA, and I’m notoriously late to these meetings. I swear, Maggie Ulrich, the bitchy, obnoxiously perfect, and always on time PTA president is going to have my head if I follow the pattern of the previous years. I can’t even count how many times that woman has given me a sterntalking toin the last two years.

Sure, I’d find it a hell of a lot easier to be on time if I was a stay-at-home mom with all school-age kids. Not that being a stay-at-home mom doesn’t have its own set of challenges, but it’s easy for her, a married housewife with enough money to hire maids and landscapers, to judge me, a single mom and business owner, when she’s never walked even a step in my shoes.

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