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“Are you not dead on your feet?”

“I am, but I want to check on everyone.”

“Are you going back later?”

“Probably.” I shrug. “Grant mentioned going back to his place for a little while, then taking over dinner or something.”

“I imagine that Lena has that covered.”

I laugh. “I’m sure she does. Anyway, go to sleep. I’ll keep you posted.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice. Be safe,” she says, turning and heading through the kitchen to the back stairwell that leads to our apartment.

I finish wiping down the counters and grab my purse and phone. Realizing I forgot to bring the sign in from the sidewalk out front, I place my things on the counter and snatch the keys. Unlocking and pushing open the door, I grab the sign.

“Hello, Aurora.” A voice I never wanted to hear again greets me.

I close my eyes, wishing and willing for me to be wrong before slowly turning to face him. “Elijah.”

“I heard you had a nice little place downtown. I see you’ve continued to ignore my request to give up this hobby that’s obviously not good for you,” he says, skimming his eyes over my body.

“What are you doing here?” I spit out the question. The disgust at seeing him again is clear in my tone of voice. I grip the sign in front of me, using it as a barrier between us. I never thought I would see him again, and now that he’s standing here in front of me, I hold my breath, waiting for all the self-loathing to return with a vengeance.

Nothing happens.

I’m a stronger person. I’ve changed. Images of Grant pop into my head. It’s incredible what the love of a good man can do for you.

“Can I not come and visit my fiancée?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I hiss. “I am not your fiancée. You left me. On our wedding day,” I add, just in case his delusional ass needed a reminder.

“Aurora,” he tsks. “Did you really think that I would marry you?” He laughs maniacally.

I think he’s lost his damn mind. “Leave.” He’s always been cruel, but this manic, harried man standing before me is something new. Something foreign that I want no part of. He is my past, and that’s where I’d like for him to stay.

“This is a public sidewalk.” He waves his arms around. “Besides, we need to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you.” I’m not even mad at him. I’m just… indifferent, I guess. Sure, I hate the way he treated me, but I let it happen. I stood by and took the proverbial hits. I stayed. It’s not all on him.

“You owe me,” he seethes, taking a step closer.

“You’re fucking crazy. I don’t owe you a damn thing.”

“You’re wrong. I let you live with me for over a year.”

“I paid my share of the bills, and I bought all the food that you claimed I was the only one who ate it!” I say, my voice raising an octave.

“You owe me,” he says, spittle flying from his mouth. His eyes are dark, and he legit looks as if he’s not slept in days.

“Leave.” My voice is loud. Firm. Decisive.

“Ma’am, are you all right?” An older gentleman approaches us slowly.

“He was just leaving.” I point to Elijah.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I need cash, and I need it now.”

“I owe you nothing. I haven’t seen you in almost two years. You show up out of the blue demanding money after you left me on our wedding day. I don’t think so. Get lost before I call the cops.”

“You’re going to regret this, you fat bitch!” he roars.

“Hey, that’s enough of that. You best be moving on.” The older man steps in.

“This isn’t over.” Elijah points at me before turning and stalking off.

“Are you okay?” the man asks.

“Yes.” I stand taller, pushing my shoulders back. I am okay. I’m stronger without him. “Thank you,” I tell him, offering him my hand to shake.

“We should call the police,” he offers.

“Nah. He’s all bark and no bite. He’s a bully from my past.”

“He’s wrong, you know,” he says, watching me closely. “You’re not fat, and I don’t know you, but I can tell from our brief interaction, and how you’re handling yourself, you’re not a bitch either. Don’t let his hate darken your good.”

Tears prick my eyes. “Thank you. I appreciate you stepping in. Come on in, and I’ll give you some treats to take home.”

“That’s not necessary, but my wife, my Susie, she’d love this place,” he says, peering in the windows. “I think I’ll stop back by sometime when she’s with me.”

“Well, it’s on the house…” I say, not knowing his name.

“George. Name’s George. And you are?”

“Aurora. Aurora Steele.”

“I’ll be seeing you, Miss Aurora.” With that, he leaves me standing in front of my bakery. I watch him walk away until I can no longer see him. Lifting the sign, I head back inside and lock the door. I’m quick to type in the code, just in case Elijah does have some bark in him after all.

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