Page 76 of We Can Do
“It looks pretty damn successful to me. You get your ass down here each morning to bake bread, and then the whole city spills in here like a pack of hungry wolves. What could say ‘success’ more? I guarantee that if you bring your dad here, he’ll be impressed.”
“Yeah,” I admit. “Maybe.”
I take a deep breath. Could it be that my dad hasn’t been waiting for me to fail? That, instead, he’s just been looking out for me? I’ve been burning the candle at both ends for months, and I’d be worried about him too if the situation was reversed.
I need to call him. Apologize for being distant. Thank him for having my back. Invite him out here for a visit.
“Anything else?” Lawrence cocks his head.
My chest tightens. Yes. There’s Alexis. The greatest woman I’ve ever met, and my biggest fuckup to date.
But what am I supposed to do about that? Bitch and moan?
No. Only action will take care of that situation.
“No,” I say.
“Good.” He nods at my plate. “Now eat the calzone that I slaved over. You’re hurting my feelings.”
I choke out a laugh. “Thanks, man. This is exactly what I needed.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Alexis
“Hey, Alexis. Haven’t seen you in a while.”
I smile at Dave, whose last name I can never remember, a web developer at the co-working space in Portsmouth. “I was working at home a lot. It didn’t do much for my focus, though.”
“That’s why we’re all here, isn’t it?” Chuckling, he unlocks his little mailbox.
“Right.” I dip my head and search for my key ring in my bag. It’s been weeks since I spent a day at the office space that I pay for and it feels strange to be back.
After sending Noah the email resigning from editing his cookbook, I did a little soul searching. Thinking over the past several months what’s been working for me and what hasn’t, and how I wanted to move forward.
At the top of my list was going back to my workspace at the co-op. Surprisingly, it was an easier decision than I thought it would be. With Flick’s help, I moved the standing desk here and will no longer be writing from home. I’m going back to keeping work and personal life separate—a value I should have kept in mind before getting involved with Noah.
It’s all part of the new me, the stereotypical makeover after a breakup. Except this has nothing to do with my physical appearance and everything to do with my goals and values. My friends have been guiding lights through all of this, and even though I’ve only been pursuing more think pieces for a few days I already have a couple of bites.
The new leaf is good. For both my health and mental state. Plus, it keeps me from thinking about the old leaf, which contained Noah.
Finally locating the right key, I unlock the mailbox. It’s not often I get mail here, but since it’s been weeks I might as well check.
And there is something. A manila envelope stuffed into the box.
“What?” I whisper, pulling it out. At the sight of the return address, my heart does a flip. It’s from Noah.
What would he be sending me? And why? We haven’t spoken since he confirmed receipt of the email I sent telling him I was quitting his book.
Taking the folder to my desk, I set my stuff down and open it up. It’s multiple pages of Noah’s equipment section, with a sticky note on top saying “final rewrite.”
Disappointment hits hard. Even though I shouldn’t, I was really hoping it would be some kind of romantic gesture. A last-ditch attempt on his part to win me back. But, of course, it isn’t. Noah has made his feelings about me very, very clear.
I thought I was clear too in my final email. I quit editing his cookbook, even gave him a list of recommendations for editors. So why the hell is he sending me these pages? Is it some weird scheme to get under my skin?
Suddenly annoyed, I flip through the pages. Most of it is the same, except for the ending, where a final section called “Working with a Baking Partner” has been added.
Even more important than selecting your equipment is selecting your baking partner, someone who will be by your side through the highs and the lows. This is, perhaps, the most important choice you can make when it comes to venturing into this new land of sourdough.
