My deception.
“Thought I’d find you back here,” Jameson says as he walks through the back door and drops down on the bench across from me. He pulls out a cigarette and lights it, only to offer me the pack before he puts it away. I take one, even though I’m not a smoker, not since my younger, dumber college days.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask, lighting the cigarette with the offered flame.
“I drew the short straw,” he announces, taking a deep inhale and looking much cooler than I do.
I snort out a laugh. “Pity for you.”
He leans back, extending his long legs out in front of him. “It is. No one wanted to be the one to come out here and deal with your bullshit.”
“Tell me how you really feel,” I grumble.
“You don’t want to know how I really feel, Jasp.”
I sigh and close my eyes. “You know what, maybe I do. Let me have it. It can’t be anything I haven’t already thought myself these last few weeks.”
When he doesn’t reply right away, I open my eyes and meet his gaze. “You’re scared.”
Okay. That’s not what I thought he’d say.
“What?”
“You’re scared, because she made you feel things you’ve never felt before and it was easier to run from them than to face them head-on.”
“I’m not scared,” I argue, even though it’s fruitless. I am.
“Bullshit. You may have done that newspaper thing accidentally, but in the last couple of weeks, you’ve had every opportunity in the world to fix it. But you haven’t. You know why?”
I stare at him with a blank expression. “Because I’m scared?” I ask, deadpan.
“Exactly.”
“So, tell me, oh wise one, why am I scared exactly?”
He just smiles. “Because you love her, and you think you’re no good for her.”
I blink, trying to wrap my head around his surprisingly astute assessment. “I don’t love her,” I whisper, but the words sound hollow, even to my own ears.
“You do, and that scares you. But the truth is, you two are better together than apart. She brought out this whole new side of you, and you didn’t know what to do with it. It’s like you were sitting back, waiting for the other shoe to drop so you could turn tail and run at the first opportunity.
“Well, you did that, and look what happened. You’re miserable and so fucking grumpy no one wants to be around you. Your staff is on the verge of quitting, but you’re too stubborn and stuck in your own head to see it.
“But do you know what’s worse? She loves you too, and you’re too wrapped up in your own head to even see it.” He takes a long drag from his cigarette and stares at me.
I close my eyes and picture her standing in the kitchen of her bakery. “I told her I loved her. It was selfish, because I was walking out of her life, but I had to say it. For myself. Not to hurt her, even though I’m sure it did. Because I’m a prick. A fucking dick who had to say the one thing I should have said before everything blew up in his face. A coward.”
He nods slowly in understanding, but also in agreement. “You’re right.” I can’t help but laugh, smiling for the first time in forever. “You’re a dick. Always have been. But you’re also the first guy to jump in and help if one of us needs something. When all that shit happened last fall with Walker and Mal? You were right there, despite having a job to do. You’re a good friend, Jasper. You don’t give yourself enough credit.
“You made a mistake. Out of frustration or anger or whatever that was. We know you didn’t mean to send that bullshit to the newspaper, and deep down she knows it too. You’d never willingly hurt someone you love. That includes us. And her.”
He takes another long drag. “So, now the question is, what are you going to do about it? Let her go, to live her life? You gonna be content to see her come and go across the street without saying hello? What happens when she starts to date, and they come into the restaurant for dinner? That okay with you?”
I pull at the collar of my polo, even though it’s not tight. Suddenly, I can’t seem to get enough oxygen into my lungs.
“That’s what I thought. Listen, Jasp, if you don’t love her or don’t want to see her again, fine. I won’t say another fucking word. But you still owe her an apology. You did her wrong, and that’s not okay. Fix that because it’s the right thing to do. She’s not our competition and doesn’t deserve what’s happening to her.”
My chest aches. “What’s happening to her?” I ask, even though I don’t think I want to know the answer.
He sighs and puts out his cigarette, only to retrieve a second one. “Business sucks. Dustin said she lost all her cake orders and had to donate a bunch of product to the hospital and nursing home.”
Again, I close my eyes and try to hide from the humiliation and shame. “What if I do love her?” I whisper, putting my cigarette out.
He smiles and stands up. “Then, don’t stop until she forgives you.”
I watch as one of my best friends walks away, leaving me outside in the cold. But this time, I’m left with something else too. Hope. The truth is I’m probably all wrong for her, but Jameson’s right. I’d rather be with her, spending my life proving to her I’m worthy, than spending it without her.
Now, I just have to figure out how to apologize.
The right way this time.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Lyndee
“Are those cakes packaged and ready to go?” I ask my brother, who’s carefully stacking mini chocolate lava cakes onto a large tray for easier delivery.
“Almost done,” he says, placing the final few small boxes onto the pile and giving me a satisfactory grin. “There. Perfect.”
I return his smile before it drops away with apprehension. “Do you think the chocolate is a good choice? Too much?”
He pats my hand, reassuring. “It’s perfect, Lyn. Really. Nothing says Happy Valentine’s Day like warm, gooey lava fudge cake.”
I exhale deeply and nod. “Okay. Good. I’m going to get these loaded up. You’ll be good here while I’m gone?” I ask, slipping on my coat and grabbing my purse.
“I’ll be fine,” he insists. “Besides, you’ll be back soon.”
I glance around, making sure I have everything, and lift the heavy tray in my arms.
“Let me get the door,” Dustin hollers, stepping outside and making sure there’s enough room for me to slip out without fumbling the tray stacked with mini cakes.
Once they’re loaded in the back seat, I tell him goodbye and throw him a wave. It only takes me a few minutes to get to the restaurant across town. Jordan’s is a great little family-owned place that serves a wide variety of entrées. I pull up to the back door and prepare to unload my goodies for this weekend’s big Valentine’s Day promotion.
“Hey, Lyndee, good to see you!” Dwayne says, meeting me outside.
“You too. I have four dozen lava cakes for you,” I tell him, carefully pulling the tray out of the car.
“That’s perfect! These are going to be a hit,” he insists, helping me carry the tray into his kitchen.