Page 67 of Craving

Elton stared at him for a beat, then shrugged and got back to work. Marlon pushed his chair away from the desk and stalked through the office. His eyes were sore, like he needed a good, long sleep. But his body was wound up tight.

The thought of going home, of that house so silent and empty…

He dropped back into the seat next to Elton’s and got back to work. Changing tack, Marlon pulled up the public property records for The Sweetest Thing’s address. Maybe he could find out what Camilla was hiding without her telling him. He could figure out who was targeting her business. Wasn’t this his job? Wasn’t this what he did day in, day out?

He scoured online records, but he only found out that it had been sold to a new owner twenty years ago and leased ever since. The property wasn’t in her name, but she was the owner of the business based on state records. Was she not making enough money to cover her lease? What was going on?

Frustrated, Marlon stalked out of the room and went to splash some water on his face in the bathroom. As droplets gathered in his beard, he stared at himself in the mirror and felt utterly pathetic.

He was clinging onto this woman who was pushing him away. She said it plain as day: She didn’t need him to be her hero and ride to her rescue. Wouldn’t it be better for him to go home, get some sleep, and let her sort out her own problems like she so desperately wanted to?

That would be the smart thing to do, but once he’d dried his face, Marlon went back to the video footage and got back to work.

Panic was a devil sitting on Camilla’s shoulder, whispering doubts in her ear. Her hands flew as she baked her heart out, the deep, worn grooves of habit helping her move. She made the cakes in record time and set them to cool, then checked over her other desserts.

She only broke down in tears four times over the course of the evening, which felt like a win. All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sink into the earth’s molten core, but she’d blot her tears, take a deep breath, and keep going.

As she worked, Camilla told herself the situation was salvageable. Four of the sheet cakes were intact, which was fortunate. She only had to make the decorative tiered cake and two more sheet cakes. Most of the other desserts had been left alone, so the dessert table didn’t need her attention. She could do this, as long as she worked quickly.

Her phone rang as she set out the ingredients for the frosting, and she scrambled to wash her hands and pull it out of her apron pocket. It wasn’t Marlon, and Camilla refused to acknowledge the acrid disappointment gurgling in her gut.

“Hey, Scarlett.”

“You haven’t been answering any of your text messages. Are you okay? We heard from Cormac that someone broke into your bakery?”

“Yeah. The Goodhew cake was ruined, so I’m making it again.” The rest of her problems loomed like a monster in the shadows, but she didn’t have words for them. The cake needed to be her focus.

“We’re on our way,” Scarlett responded, and the line went dead.

Camilla huffed. She should turn them away and focus on what needed to be done, but when the knock came on the back door, she still opened up for her friends (after checking that it was them on the security cameras). Scarlett, Amelia, and Lucy took over her space like a friendly, overwhelming flock of birds. They demanded answers and perched on various seats as she shooed them away from her work surface so she could keep baking.

Their presence soothed her, and Camilla ignored how much she wished Marlon were here. Their relationship had been built on a shaky foundation; it would never have worked. She needed to take care of herself first of all.

“Where’s Marlon?”

Amelia’s question drew Camilla out of her own head. “He left a few hours ago,” she replied, not answering the question at all.

Amelia frowned. “That’s weird. He didn’t stay here? He left you alone?”

“Yeah,” Camilla answered, ducking into the storeroom to get away from their stares. When she came back out, all three women were watching her.

“Hmm.” Lucy narrowed her eyes.

“Yes,” Scarlett agreed. “Hmm.”

“What?” Camilla turned her back on her friends and started taking the cakes out of their pans. She’d pop them in the freezer to try to cool them down quickly; otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to start decorating until morning, and that was cutting it a bit too close.

“You pushed him away,” Lucy said.

“And I bet that killed him,” Amelia noted, “especially if he’s anything like Leo. He probably has a big mushy heart.”

Camilla’s own heart gave a sharp stab of pain. “It’s not that deep,” she lied. “I just have a lot of work to do, and I need to focus. I’m moving out of his place tomorrow.”

“Um,” Amelia said, “what?”

“It was always a temporary situation.”

“Where are you moving to?”

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