Page 70 of The Lone Wolf Café
“O-okay,” I replied, my lips feeling like they were frozen.Don’t stutter. Be professional. Stop letting your feelings get in the way.“I’ll get started on some scones, then. May I use the blueberries from the bushes outside?”
“They’re not doing so well, since it’s so cold outside,” Rowena replied dryly. She didn’t sound upset or angry, but the warmth and affection that usually laced her voice was gone.
I questioned her statement, since Rowena had previously stated her chloromancer powers kept everything perpetually in season. Couldn’t she heal the blueberry bushes if they were damaged by the frost? Couldn’t she just grow new ones? I’d watched her conjure full-size pumpkins in a matter of minutes a few days earlier.
But it didn’t matter. Even if she was lying to me, I shouldn’t be so concerned about it.
“Alright,” I replied, mirroring her professional indifference. “I’ll use up the last of the chocolate chips instead.”
Rowena didn’t reply. She simply nodded, grabbed the container of cream off the counter, and strolled through the kitchen door. Watching it swing behind her as she left felt like a punch to the chest.
But I didn’t have time to mourn my feelings. They were what had gotten me into this mess in the first place.
I needed to focus on the real reason I was working at The Lone Wolf Café: making money by utilizing the one useful talent I had.
Aria still didn’t know what was going on, but as always, she was eager to help. She’d already lowered the bag of chocolate chips from the cupboards with her air magic, helping herself to a single chocolate chip through a tiny tear in the bag.
“You silly little mouse,” I sighed, patting her on top of the head.
We spent the rest of the early morning baking the chocolate-chip scones, working until the sun peeked over the horizon and Rowena flipped the CLOSED sign around to OPEN.
And the entire time, I kept my mind completely focused on my work.
I didn’t think about Hollenboro.
I didn’t think about my feelings for Rowena.
I didn’t even think about how much I’d rather be making blueberry scones instead of chocolate chip.
I just worked, floating through the day like a ghost, awaiting my inevitable and heartbreaking departure.
My heart hammered in my chest, making my blood run hot through my body and giving me heartburn, in the minutes leading up to 3 o’clock.
But when the clock rang three times and Rowena appeared in the kitchen doorway, I swore my heart stopped beating entirely.
I froze, my fingers coiled around a damp cleaning cloth. I’d been wiping down the kitchen counters for nearly thirty minutes, scrubbing the same stubborn stains over and over again. I knew there was no getting them out – this kitchen was at least several generations old. But it kept me busy. And more importantly, it kept me out of sight of Rowena.
We hadn’t said a word to each other all day. Even when she needed help during the morning rush, I kept my head down, fetching cups and plates just as quickly as the customers placed orders. That way, Rowena wouldn’t have to talk to me.
Because I feared if she did, I’d crack like an eggshell. My composure was so brittle that a simple glance of affection from Rowena could cause me to break down and confess everything.
But I’d held it together. Even when the residents of Wisteria Grove found out I was leaving. Even when nearly a dozen of them said how much they’d miss me and my baked goods. Even when Adrian, Juniper, and Mabel asked for me to stop by their cottages before I left.
The last one nearly broke me. Because I couldn’t linger in Wisteria Grove. There would be no official goodbyes, no fancy send-offs, other than my pained smile and halfhearted wave from behind the counter.
I felt like a fraud. As much as I loved Wisteria Grove, my time spent there had been nothing but lie upon lie, stacked precariously on top of each other, with the danger of them all toppling over growing with each new addition.
And now, with the café about to close and Rowena gazing at me through the doorway, I feared the tower might finally collapse. Burying me and my broken heart beneath the rubble.
“Your paycheck,” Rowena stated briskly, pulling an envelope from her dress pocket. She placed it in her left hand, with her palm up, and extended her arm. She didn’t step forward. I would need to approach her to collect the money.
I walked slowly, trying to hide my fear, wondering if this was some sort of trap. But I was able to take the envelope from Rowena’s hand without incident.
In the process, our palms brushed. My whole body trembled at how soft her skin was. I’d never ached to throw my arms around her more than in that moment.
“I wish you the best.” Rowena’s tone was still flat. Dull. Her face was hard, and her lips were pressed in a thin line. But her eyes deceived her. They quivered and sparkled in the soft light of the kitchen, appearing watery even though there were no tears pooling in the corners.
I knew that look. It silently, defiantly begged:Please. Say something. Anything.
