I peel off the soaked apron and toss it in the laundry bin, then head to the bathroom to wash the oil off my arms and hands. My phone buzzes while I'm scrubbing and I dry one hand to check it. Now isn't the best time to take a call, and it's too early to be one of my vendors, but ignoring it would be bad for business if it's important. So I swipe to answer and press the speaker phone button, mumbling "Carolina Crumb" as I rinse my hands.
"Ms. Carter, this is Victor Langford. I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time."
My stomach drops and I shut the water off, scowling at the damn phone. "How did you get this number?"
"It's listed on your business registration. I wanted to follow up on the offer we sent over. Have you had a chance to review it?"
That son of a bitch. He's been snooping into my business filings and it pisses me off. Yes, it's public record, but it's not public so men like him can take my personal number and use it. "I reviewed it and I'm not interested."
"I understand your hesitation, but I'd like you to consider the full picture here. The development we're proposing would benefit the entire waterfront district, and frankly, the offer we've made is well above market value." He pauses, but I don't speak. I hear him slurp something from a cup or straw and then he goes on. "I'm also in a position to help ensure that any upcoming inspections go smoothly for you, given the transition period. Ihave relationships with the city that could be very useful to you right now."
I clench my hand around the phone and feel like breaking it in two. He all but admitted he's the one who sent that damn inspector my way. No one else knows about that warning other than my employees and my parents. He's such a fucking snake.
"Mr. Langford, I'm going to say this one time. I am not selling my bakery. Not to you, not to anyone. And if you're using your connections at city hall to pressure me into a sale, that's something I'm going to make sure people know about."
"Ms. Carter, I assure you?—"
I hang up and set the phone on the counter. My hands are shaking as I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I look exactly the way I feel, exhausted, scared, and angry at a world that won't stop coming at me from every direction. Langford wants my building. Jaxon wants the truth. And I'm just trying to hold my shit together with both hands trembling.
It's infuriating and terrifying. I shouldn’t have to deal with this on my own, but who am I going to talk to and ask for help? Everyone I would go to would ask the same questions Jaxon is asking, and I'm lucky he's not asking anyone but me yet. What happens if he asks my parents?
I pull on the spare apron from my office and walk back out through the kitchen into the front of the shop. Karen has the display cases half loaded and the coffee brewing. Everything seems perfectly normal until I hear someone clear their throat and I look through the pass-through and see my worst nightmare.
Jaxon is standing in the middle of my dining room in a Cole and Son's work shirt with his name stitched on the chest. He's got a tool belt on his hips and a clipboard in one hand, looking up at the ceiling, checking something near the ventilation duct.
"Morning, Em." He taps the clipboard against his thigh. "Mike sent me over to look at your ventilation hood and the back door frame. He said you need brought up to code?"
I stand there in my oil-stained shoes and my spare apron, staring at the father of my child.
I have absolutely no idea what to do.
13
JAXON
Ipull the last screw out of the exhaust panel and set it on the counter with the rest of my hardware. The repair list Mike gave me for this job runs about a page and a half, and I've been working through it steadily for two days now, but Emily has made it damn near impossible to have a conversation with her about anything that isn't related to the building.
She sends Karen out to check on my progress, stays locked in her office most of the day, and yesterday, she left at two o'clock without telling me she was going. I only found out when Karen mentioned it while I was packing up. It's so obvious that she's avoiding me, and it's starting to get annoying.
Today, she's doing it again. I can hear her in the back hallway gathering her things, and it's barely past one thirty. It makes me so mad that she won't just talk to me. We could have a civil conversation like two mature adults, but any time I approach her, she shuts down.
This time, she comes around the corner with her purse on her shoulder and her keys already in her hand, walking toward theback door. I step into the hallway and she almost runs into me, stopping short, and takes a half step back.
"I'm heading out. Karen can help you with anything you need." Her head dips as she moves forward as if she's expecting me to move aside, but I stay planted, watching her try to duck and run. She's not getting past me this time. Even if I have to lie as to the nature of my questions.
"I actually have a few questions about the work that Karen can't answer." I fidget with the bolt in my hand, screwing and unscrewing the nut as I watch her squirm. "Can you give me five minutes?"
"Jaxon, I've got somewhere I need to be."
"Five minutes, Emily. That's all I'm asking… Don't you want these repairs done?" I feel a stab of guilt for lying about this, but it's the only way to get her cornered into a conversation.
I've done a lot of thinking about this, and I've come to the conclusion that she is the one in the wrong for not talking to me about this. Sure, it's her life and her privacy, but if there's even a smidgen of a chance that little girl is my offspring, I deserve to know. If she tells me Mercy isn't my child, I'll walk away—hurt, of course, but I'll be gone.
She looks past me toward the back door, then toward the kitchen where Karen's running the mixer. Danny and Russ are in the dining room loading tools into their bags, and I can hear them talking over the noise. Emily shifts her weight and adjusts her purse strap, and I can tell she's calculating whether making a scene is worth the cost of getting away from me.
"Fine," she says quietly. "But make it fast."
She ducks back into her office and moves aside so I can step in, but she doesn't shut the door because I stand in the doorway filling it with my broad shoulders. If she tries to get out, I'll let her, but right now I'm pretty determined to get my answers.
