Page 7 of No Going Back
“No way.” Griffin stepped back as the emotion of the moment came a little closer than he wanted. He raked one hand through his greying hair. “I already look the part. Might as well embrace it.”
Amelie’s eyes fixed on his face, a thin line of tears edging her lids. “I’m so happy to hear you say that.”
His jaw clenched tight. Amelie had told him bits and pieces about her parents and the way they’d treated her and Muriel over the years. It wouldn’t surprise him if their reaction to this news had been less than stellar. “I’m happy that you’re happy.”
It was all he wanted. For the people he loved to be happy. Happiness was easy to navigate and simple to handle.
But it was clear Amelie wasn’t completely content. Not entirely. Her parents let her down. Again. It was something she probably wanted to talk about, but he would leave that conversation to someone better equipped than him.
Griffin pulled out a chair, handling Amelie’s upset the only way he knew how. Redirection. “We should probably start eating. You’ve got a whole baby to grow.”
THREE
DIANNA
THE MUSCLES OF her arm were on fire and the extended limb was beginning to twitch, but come hell or high water this was happening.
Snickerdoodle, the biggest of the squirrels that frequented her backyard, stood three feet away from the peanut pinched between her fingers, eyeing her warily.
“You know you want it.” Dianna tried to keep her voice soft and soothing. “We could be best friends. I have so many peanuts I would give you.”
She’d spent nearly every morning since the weather warmed sitting on her back porch, luring the herd of fuzzy beggars that loitered around closer and closer each day. It was a ridiculous quest, but one she was determined to pursue.
Her old therapist probably would have chalked it up to her need for acceptance and validation, but she was pretty sure it was just because she wanted to pet a fucking squirrel.
Tik-Tok made it look so easy. Everyone and their brother seemed to have a raccoon or squirrel or even a fucking fox living in their house as pets.
She didn’t even want the damn things in her house. She just wanted to be friends.
Snickerdoodle’s little squirrel nose twitched as he took a tiny step closer, eyes locked on the nugget of goodness she offered.
“Stop being an asshole and just take the damn nut.” Even though she said them in a sing-songy tone, her words were still sharp and demanding. Demanding enough that Snickerdoodle straightened up on his hind legs, gave her an indignant look, and bounced off to the far end of her tiny yard.
Because of course he did.
Dianna sighed, standing up and tossing the nut into the grass where Snickerdoodle, or one of his many cohorts, would likely come and retrieve it after she left for the day. She dusted off her leggings and adjusted the hem of her T-shirt, smoothing over The Baking Rack logo emblazoned down the front as she hurried inside. She’d spent way too much time trying to seduce Snickerdoodle, and now she was late.
The cowboys would already be lined up outside when she unlocked the door, ready for coffee and the sweet offerings she had for the day. Today was scheduled to be cinnamon rolls and cherry danishes, along with lemon bars and the dozens of cookies she baked every night, plus a few special-order cakes that were being picked up.
That meant being late this particular morning was extra terrible. Cinnamon rolls were one of her biggest sellers, and everybody showed up bright and early to make sure they got one of the cream cheese frosting topped buns.
Dianna snagged her keys from the counter, grabbed her bag and headed out into the tiny garage her small car barely fit inside. After carefully backing out, she headed towards town. Her shop was barely a mile away—close enough that she frequently chose to walk, using the quiet morning stroll to mentally gear herself up for the day.
But today there was no time for that. Today she had to rush, which meant she would already feel a little frazzled when she walked in, so the chances of her being overwhelmed before lunch were substantial.
“You will be fine.” Dianna sucked in a deep breath and blew it back out. “You can do this. You are not dumb. You are not lazy. You are not always going to be a failure.”
It was an edited version of the mantra the therapist she went to after her divorce recommended, but currently the best one she could manage.
It turned out it was more difficult to recover from years of emotional abuse than she expected. Apparently something like that affected you deeply enough that even three years later you still believed all the words that had been slung at you.
At least a little bit.
But the sun was brightening the small town she’d chosen as her home. And as she closed in on it, the sight of the quaint buildings of downtown relaxed a little of the tension tightening her shoulders. Today really would be fine. She’d see the same people she always did. The ones who came back time and time again because they liked what she made and thought what she offered was worth spending their hard-earned money on.
And at some point that needed to start counting for something.
Maybe today would be that point.
