“Tim?” she asks, concern lacing her voice. The car switches off so naturally the phone jumps out of her car and immediately into her headphones, which I assume are at the bottom of her handbag. Sometimes I wish I had never tried to pull her into the technological age.
“Shit, sorry, Reilly. Did you say it was Tim?” She sounds out of breath. She’s got to slow down. Still working those hours at her age is ridiculous.
“No, thank god! He’s been quiet recently.” Mum hums in response, she never clicked with him. Another red flag I stupidly ignored at the time. “I’m just having a day.” The front door opens on her end and Chip barks, most likely while running around under her feet. She curses and shoos him away. She moans about Chip, but she loves him.
She fell in love as hard as I did the day I brought him home from the shelter. At first she was insistent it was too muchresponsibility, but the second he came bounding in and jumped on her lap she was smitten. She’ll never admit it, though. Mum’s as stubborn as she is kind. I get that from her, upgrading the fights we had while I was dealing with my teenage years, I thought I knew everything. I still haven’t grown out of that particular trait.
“Wait, did you already get home? Where did you drive from?” Mum prefers to walk everywhere, better for the environment.
“I was dropping the blue chair to the woman down the street – the one who always drops treats in for Chip.” I hum in agreement. “Well, your day has sucked,” she continues. “But it’s nearly done. Tomorrow is a new day, and it will probably suck as much as this one.” Music comes on in the background as I listen to Mum pottering around the house, absent-mindedly filling me in on her day. The idea of being home later already warms me.
Putting the new cupcakes in the oven, I send a silent prayer to the baking goddess to not mess these ones up. The oven light flickers, a little hit to the side keeps it back working again.
I can’t wait to get out of this place and set up on my own. I’ve got it all planned out. The kitchen is going to be top of the line with sleek stainless steel work benches and every decoration spatula and piping nozzle there is to own. The front will have display cases as long as the wall, showing off every bake I can dream of. With a cupcake section organised by colours of the rainbow. The room is going to be sickly sweet, an Instagrammers dream. Filled with fluffy lampshades shaped like clouds and a massive rainbow painted on the back wall. Pure dream-world decor.
“Will you walk this blooming dog when you get in?” Even cross, Mum still has a soft gentle tone. I smile knowing I’ll get home to find them cuddled on the sofa probably worn out from a long walk on the beach.
My pride took a hit when I moved back in with Mum. I needed to save money and this was the smartest way to do it, plus it’s nice for Mum to have me back. We’ve got past the mother/daughter arguments and now happily coexist. Tim resented my relationship with my mum, it was the one thing he couldn’t control and he let the resentment show. After I found out he had blocked her access into our building, I packed my bags. Only after walking away did I finally see him for who he really was: a weak man who thrived off snide comments and demands I could never keep up with.
“Oh, grab Dorothy on your way home, love,” she reminds me as she sends kisses down the phone and hangs up. Dorothy only lives next door but refuses to walk without an escort. We don’t live in the nicest part of Bournemouth, but it’s not a warzone. Still, I can’t help but appease her. She has been a big part of my life since we moved next door to her when I was five.
I feel lighter after talking to Mum. My lovely, strong, inspirational mum. She did it all by herself, no man in sight. After my father refused to take responsibility for me and practically denied my existence, she was all I had growing up. All I needed. Working two jobs to keep food on the table and still there to help with homework and mend any angsty teenage feelings. If she can do that alone, I can do anything. I can’t forget the lessons she learned on my behalf.
I have everything I need in life. A loving mum, a doting surrogate grandmother, the best two friends anyone could want and one scruffy three-legged dog. I just need my own bakery, which I am well on the way to getting.
What I don’t need is Elton Fox.
SEVEN
Reilly
Rejected. Again.
The hits keep on coming. Another business loan rejection email. I might make a collage out of them and put them on a vision board of ways that Reilly fails. And right in the middle will be the credit card bill I slowly chip away at each month.
Safe to say my ex was one of the biggest financial setbacks of my life. I spent too much money trying to keep up with him and his friends. The pressure I felt to wear the right clothes and be seen the right way. Tim made it seem like he was helping me out and often reminded me how lucky I was to be out at the places I was at. Yet I was always picking up my portion of the bill more than I could afford to. I know, I know. I am an independent woman and I don’t need a man to pay my way. But surely the disparity in our incomes meant it should have been his treat more often than not. Especially when it was his idea.My credit card took a big hit, probably a bigger hit than my heart did in the end.
This is what happens when you get yourself too big for your boots. It was careless of me, but that feeling of inadequacy crept in and took root. I won’t allow it to happen again.
I’ve always made an hourly minimum wage, which is embarrassing enough for a thirty-four-year-old woman. But needs must, and if I want to do what I love, I must sacrifice my pride. It wasn’t a problem before, before I let someone judge me and I let myself take that to heart. It set me back; I’m now stuck paying off debt and further away from my dreams.
Some days, that dream feels too out of reach, even though I try so hard to stay positive.
Today is one of those days. My car is flashing at me, Chip had his latest vaccinations, and Mum needs to be working less. She’s offered to help out when I start up Reilly’s Bakes, but I want to look after her. She should be heading towards retirement, not helping me start a new business.
It’s four p.m., and it’s been a hell of a day, despite all the appliances working and my cakes coming out perfectly. Customers have been pushing me and I’ve struggled to hold on to the smile. The doors are now closed and I’m slogging through the last of the cleaning up before closing up and going home.
As I’m hanging up my apron, the phone decides to start ringing. I’m tempted to ignore it, I’ve had my fill of demanding customers. Unfortunately, the customer service skills drilled into me from countless hospitality jobs won’t allow me to.
I answer with my best upbeatI swear I’ve not had it up to herevoice. “Sunshine Cakes, how can I help?” I sound sickly sweet, my jaw aching from my fake smile plastered on all day.
“Reilly?”
A beat of silence. I know that voice. Silky smooth, deep and masculine. That voice spent a night commanding me, charming me, coaxing orgasm after orgasm from my body.
“Reilly? Are you there? It’s Elton.” The confirmation makes my stomach drop.
“I know who it is.” I give my best void-of-emotion voice, despite my heart beating right out of my chest.
