Page 66 of Cupcake
“Shh,” I whispered, nose-to-nose with her now. “I wish you had just come and talked to me, baby. In the future, don’t run, unless you’re running to me. Promise me.”
She nodded, her chin trembling with fear, anguish, relief, and fatigue. “I promise. I might need you to remind me for another thirty years or so, though.”
“Only thirty?” I teased, kissing her lips carefully since she still had the oxygen tube in her nose. “I was thinking at least fifty or sixty.” I stroked her cheek, her eyelids drooping the longer I did. “Sleep now. When you wake up, I might be at the bakery, but Amber will be here. Don’t get scared because I didn’t leave you. I’m just going to protect our business the same way I’ll always protect you, with all my love and devotion.”
Her lips pulled up in a smile as her eyes closed all the way, and finally, she slept.
Twenty-Five
Iglanced down at thesix-inch gash on my shoulder after I took the bandage off. There was no redness or signs of infection, so I finished cleaning it and covered it with the special bandage the hospital had sent home with me yesterday. At least I managed to get out of the hospital for my thirtieth birthday.
Last night was not exactly the party I was hoping for, and tonight wouldn’t be either, but that was okay. I was just grateful to be alive. Being attacked by Darla had brought into focus what was important in this life. That red X on my calendar came to mind again, and I chuckled as I shut the light off in the bathroom and walked into the kitchen for my phone. I tapped the calendar, still missing the July page, and tisked my tongue. “You don’t own me anymore.”
It didn’t own me. Brady Pearson owned me, and I was completely okay with it. We owned each other’s hearts and never had I understood how much than over the last couple of days. His devotion to me at the hospital was palpable, and his dedication to my business when he only left my bedside to make sure it stayed running, told me he would always be my better half.
It was almost three in the afternoon, and Brady had been up to check on me several times during the day. He refused to let me go down to the bakery and do anything, so I had to cool my heels up here most of the day. That was okay. My head still bothered me if I did too much, so it was wiser to give it a few more days before I had to work around dangerous equipment again. After so much lazing around, I needed to stretch out my arm, so when Brady called to say he needed me in the bakery for some help with the ordering, I jumped at the chance. It gave me an excuse to check on everything without looking like a worrywart, too. I know Brady and Amber have everything in hand, but it would make it easier to relax if I got to check things out for myself.
I checked my phone, and there was another email from another committee member apologizing for the Darla fiasco, as people had taken to calling it. Truth be told, the fiasco was no one’s fault but hers. I felt bad that others felt like they needed to apologize for her. She could do her own apologizing in court. The district attorney had to decide on charges, but from what I’d been told, she was going to be swimming in hot water for a long time to come.
Once the police took her into custody, after finding her passed out on the floor in her living room, they had to put her in the drunk tank overnight just to get her conscious enough to talk. The knife she stabbed me with was found in her bathtub, which was a very strange place to put a weapon you committed a crime with if you ask me, but that’s Darla.
I suspected she was going to claim a psychotic break or try to blame this on me, but for now, I was safe from her while she remained in jail until bail was set. After that, she wouldn’t be allowed near me, or she’d risk going straight to jail without passing go. Did I doubt she’d try? No, but for her sake, I hoped she kept her distance. Not just because the law wouldn’t be lenient, but because Brady wouldn’t be.
I heard his footfalls on the stairs, and I opened the door, smiling when he stood at the top, his hair freshly washed and styled. He was dressed to the nines in khaki shorts and a button-down shirt.
“Well, hello, birthday girl,” he said, kissing my lips lightly. “You look gorgeous. You’re like a birthday cupcake that’s good enough to eat.”
“You’ve said that every time you’ve checked on me today.”
“And I meant it every time,” he agreed, a smile on his face.
I tugged at the front of his shirt gently. “You’re a little dressed up to do bakery work,” I said, confused.
“True, but the bakery work won’t take long, and then I was hoping to celebrate your birthday. As long as you’re feeling up to it, of course.”
“I would love to,” I assured him, pulling the door closed behind us. “I need to stretch out and move around a little. My arm doesn’t bother me much now, and the incision looked good when I changed the bandage. I’ll just have to be careful of my head. I wish I were able to make your anniversary cupcakes.”
