Page 7 of Faking It with My Bossy Ex

Eight years ago, I convinced myself breaking up with her was the right thing to do. But watching the sadness in her eyes, I don't know if I did more harm than good.

Chapter 3

Amy

I stumble into the bakery, my brain still reeling from Dylan's offensive attempts at being charming. Seriously, who gave him the right to be that handsome after all these years?

It's like he’s been bathing in the fountain of youth while I've been stress-eating my way through art school. And calling me beautiful? Please. I'm wearing more layers than an onion and if I really was as beautiful as he says, he wouldn't have left me for someone else.

Real smooth, Dylan.

Leaving my suitcase by the wall, I head toward the counter. Time to find Laura and hopefully scrub my mind clean of all things Dylan-related. Maybe she has a special pastry for that. “Dylan-Be-Gone Donuts”, has a nice ring to it.

If Dylan has even a smidgen of decency left in that unfairly attractive body of his, he'll keep his distance while we’re both in town. He broke my heart and probably my ability to believe in love. Does he even remember?

Stop thinking about Dylan. Just stop.

Laura is behind the counter, taking care of the customer in front of me. She hasn't changed a bit since the last time I saw her. The whole place sends a wave of homesickness through me. My time in Europe was what pulled me from Snowfall Springs. Dylan was the reason I didn’t come back.

Great, so much for not thinking about him.

The emails and texts from Laura were my anchor to home, but it’s different seeing her in person, being back in her bakery.

Laura's auburn hair falls in loose curls around her shoulders, and her brown eyes twinkle as she pushes a packed box of donuts across the counter to a total gentleman. Nowshe’sbeautiful.

“There you go. Have a wonderful day.”

I scoot forward, anticipating her look of shock. I’m going for the surprise element, hence not telling her I’d be showing up.

“Do you think there are some of those donuts left?” I giggle as her eyes widen and her head snaps up from what she isdoing. The donuts make my stomach grumble and the lingering resolution to cut out sugar and protect my teeth after listening to health podcasts during the drive here goes out the window.

A huge smile spreads across her face.

“Amy! You're here. You should have told me when you were getting here. Ahhh, I'm so excited!” She runs around the counter, her arms already extended for a hug.

We collide, and I laugh as I get a mouthful of her hair as she embraces me. Laura’s my sister, in spirit anyway.

“My goodness, it's good to see you.” Being around Laura is like a calming balm to my swirling feelings about Dylan.

“Did I see a Porsche pull up a couple of seconds ago? Who gave you a ride?” She waggles her eyebrows.

“You'll never guess.” Dylan’s smug face pops back into mind. The crisp scent of his cologne and the warm feeling of being in his car.

“Can you believe that Dylan is back in town for the fundraiser too?” Why do I feel a butterfly or two in my stomach at the thought?

“The Dylan? As in Dylan Carter? And you got in the same car with him?” Laura shakes her head. “What happened toour pact?” Her expression is deadly serious, and she grabs my shoulders, driving home her point.

Yes, we made a pact. I was that desperate to never forget what he did to me.

“I’ve failed. Please forgive me.” I exaggerate my delivery as if I’m a princess from the Dark Ages pleading for my life.

We burst into a fit of giggles.

“How did you get a ride from hot Dylan? Did you conveniently forget your car?”

“Please don’t call him that.” I groan. “He’s not hot and my car broke down, no way around it. I was stranded on the side of the road.”

Laura stares me dead in the eyes. “You might hate him, but don’t lie to yourself. That man is as hot as they come. Don’t tell me you were cold on the way here?”

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