Page 1 of Sweet Valentine

CHAPTER ONE

You know why I left, it’s not a secret you think the bakery is more important than our relationship. I hope you find someone who will accept playing second fiddle to your job, but that’s not me.

I take a deep breath and read the letter for the millionth time. It’s not like I don’t have it memorized, but seeing the words written in Chris’s handwriting cements things for me.

He’s gone.

For good.

It’s been eight months since I came home and found this letter, along with half my shit taken, never to be seen again. And it’s been six months since I decided to move and relocate—to get as far away from memories of him as I could. Did I want to uproot my bakery and risk everything I worked for? Not really. But being there, surrounded by slivers of what our life should have been, didn’t seem healthy. So, I packed up and went back home to Smithfalls.

“I brought wine!” Mandy yells before I hear the knock. I place the letter on the coffee table and chuckle as she jiggles the handle, thinking it’s unlocked. I weave through the living room and open the door. She hands me a grocery bag that weighs at least ten pounds as she pushes past me and heads down the hallway toward the kitchen. I follow, making sure the plastic doesn’t break on the way.

“Is this really necessary?” I ask, leaning against the doorway as she places a very large tote on the island and begins taking out bottle after bottle of my favorite wine. The cheap plastic of the bag in my arms starts to dig into my palms, but I stay where I am.

“Val Miller, get your ass in this kitchen and help me.” I roll my eyes as I set the package of mystery items on the island. “Don’t look at me like that, girls’ night means food. Lots of food. And not the healthy kind, either,” she says, pointing the wine opener in the direction of the bag. “Now, make yourself useful and grab us the biggest wine glasses you can find.”

Now that, I can do. I head to the other side of the kitchen and open my wine cabinet. Yes, I have one, and no, it’s not sad. Once I set the glasses beside her, Mandy looks at me, smirking.

“You want the good news or the bad news first?” I look at her for a second and wonder if she knows that there is only one right answer to that question.

“Obviously, the good news,” I mutter as she finally uncorks the wine and pours a generous amount into each glass.

“Good news is, I finally got the preview of the review for Val’s Sweet Treats going in this weekend’s paper.” My whole body locks. I’ve been waiting for this for days, and since Mel has connections at the paper, I knew she would get the inside scoop. “You okay?” she asks, holding out the glass for me to take.

I nod my head, taking a large sip and feeling the warmth cascade over my skin. “Yeah, I’m good.” Val’s Sweet Treats is my baby. The one constant, besides Mandy, that brings a sense of calm to my otherwise mess of a life. Owning your own bakery is tough, but moving said business from downtown to a small suburb with no assurances that it will succeed is hard, stressful, and maddening.

“You know it’s good, right? I’ve already read it,” she says, winking in my direction. God, I love her. She’s like my security blanket in human form. She’s been my best friend since we were kids and has seen me at my best and at my very worst.

“This is going to work, I promise,” she whispers, taking my arm and leading me into the living room.

“So, what’s the bad news?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

“Oh, shit!” she says, running back into the kitchen and rummaging through the plastic bag of food. I follow and laugh when I see her taking out a carton of ice cream and putting it in the freezer. “I think I saved it,” she mutters to herself. When she sees me standing there silently laughing, she gives me the finger. “And here I was, sad they had no mint chocolate chip…but now I know you deserve to only get cookie dough.”

I shrug my shoulders, leaving her alone in the kitchen. When she makes her way back into the living room, she notices the letter on the table.

“You still have it?” She picks it up, reading it as she shakes her head. “I can’t believe you wasted three years on that douche.” I don’t say anything because it’s true. I wasted so much time on he-who-shall-not-be-named, a guy who never truly believed I could open a successful bakery.

“Yeah, well, not anymore.” I take another large sip of wine as Mandy scans the letter once more.

“I can’t believe he told you your baking wasn’t that impressive. That’s just mean.” I absently nod, remembering exactly the part she’s talking about. I’m sick of you spending so much time in that stupid kitchen, making up recipes that aren’t even that great.

“He was just jealous of your success,” she says, clinking her glass to mine in a toast. I laugh because using the term success to describe what my bakery was back then is laughable.

“Success? Mandy, I barely stayed afloat when I was downtown. He’s not wrong when he said that some of my recipes weren’t good enough. They weren’t.” Mandy goes to say something, but I stop her. “I know some of my stuff is good—great, even—but I was so stuck in the idea of constantly innovating that I forgot why I became popular in the first place. Simple recipes. Simple concept.”

“That’s why it’s gonna work this time. No more frills. Just you.” I hope she’s right. Because if this doesn’t work, I have no idea what I’m going to do.

CHAPTER TWO

Val’s Sweet Treats has officially opened and is now one of the most sought-after bakeries in town. From the amazing crescent rolls, to the muffins and cupcakes, Val’s is sure to satisfy any craving you may have…just watch that waistline!

As I finish reading the article, I can’t help the smile that comes over my face. I know Mandy told me it was good, but I refused to read it until publication. I might be a glutton for punishment, but it was worth the wait. I make a mental note to email the reporter and thank her. Maybe I can send her a box of cupcakes, too, because this article will definitely help foot traffic. I stop and wonder if sending something like that would be considered a bribe, but decide quickly that I’m willing to risk it because it’s a great article and I want to thank her.

I look at my watch and head into the kitchen to start making treats for the morning rush. It’s just after five in the morning, and my body can tell. After last night, and the copious amount of wine that was consumed, my head is throbbing, and I vow never to drink that much again. As I turn on the oven and head over to the bake racks, my phone goes off in my back pocket.

Mandy: Did you read it yet? I bet you did. TOLD YOU!

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