Page 6 of Ardently Yours

He says it as if I am nothing special. Like I am just someone who works here and not someone who was supposed to own their own bakery in this town before everything got messed up. I could glare at him, but he’s not even worth sparing a second glance.

“Lizzie, do you need anything?” I ask, ignoring the man.

“Um,” she says, turning to look at me slowly, as if she had forgotten I was there.

I’ve never seen her like this. Never really seen her speechless. I can’t believe this guy, who walked in here like he is the big man on campus, is the one to make her stand there like this with nothing to say. It’s so unlike her.

“Do you want us to go?” Nic asks, shrugging the man’s arm off her. She looks at Lizzie pointedly. “Or do you want us here for this?”

“Um,” Lizzie says again, blinking at the man and then looking at her friends. “I think I will catch up with you two later. I can handle this.”

“Okay, well, Jay is working with me at the bookstore today. If you need me to come back for any reason, you know where to find me.” Nic speaks to Lizzie, but eyes the man suspiciously. She picks up the bag of muffins and lattes for herself and Jay.

Jane grabs a drink and muffin for herself, and says, “And I’m next door at the antique shop if you need me.” Jane locks eyes with Lizzie before stepping away from the man and his awkward hug. She and Nic head out of the door.

“Lizzie?” I ask.

Chatter from a few customers sitting around enjoying their caffeine and sweets fills the cafe. It’s almost time for Wolfsheim’s shift, and it’s not too crowded. I’m done with baking for now, so I don’t mind stepping in to help Lizzie out. She turns to look at me, a little dazed. I let her know I can run the register so she can take a break.

“Thanks, Will,” she says, taking a deep breath.

She called me Will, not Darcy, as she usually does nowadays. But I called her Lizzie, so maybe it threw her off. It doesn’t seem like the time for nicknames.

She doesn’t even tease me or anything. She just moves from behind the counter and nervously wipes her hands on her apron. I watch her as she makes her way around to the other side of the counter to greet the man.

“Are you happy to see me, Liz?” he asks, opening his arms for her to walk into.

She doesn’t hug him, though; she stares at him, dumbfounded, and gestures to a two-person table away from the other customers, by the window. It’s near enough to the counter that I can listen in. I know it’s wrong, but I think being nosy in this instance isn’t really wrong since they are sitting so close and because…well, I am kind of worried about Lizzie.

This man’s presence is obviously not something she is happy about. I can tell from her reaction and her body language. She’s processing, and she’s trying to be strong.

I want to stay near so I can help her if he needs me to because this guy makes me feel uneasy. He seems to enjoy making her uncomfortable too, and I don’t like that. I glance at them as they sit and talk.

Well, he talks, and she stares at him. She fidgets with her hands in her lap while his hands are on the table, as if he’s reaching for her. I catch pieces of what he is saying.

“Liz, aren’t you glad to see me again?”

“I came back for you.”

“Do you still have the ring?”

The ring? I do my best to look busy behind the counter, placing the fresh muffins in the display case, but I strain to listen in on their conversation.

“I pawned that ring.”

That’s Lizzie’s voice. She is finally talking, and she doesn’t sound happy.

“How dare you, Billie? You think you can come back to town and we can pick up where we left off? You asked me to marry you, and then you left. It’s been six years. Six years. You don’t get to come back and talk to me like nothing ever happened.”

Fragments of the conversation stand out to me: Ring. Asked to marry her. Left her years ago. Lizzie was engaged to this man. This man named…Billie. That’s what she called him. That explains why she is reacting this way.

She stands up and says, “I think you should go, and this time, don’t come back, Billie.”

Billie stands up too, but he doesn’t leave. He walks over to the front counter. I close the display case and walk over to the register, watching him.

“Aren’t you going to take my order, Will?” he asks, reading my name from my name tag on my apron.

The way he looks at me. I’m taller than him, but he looks at me like he’s better, bigger, and taller. It’s then that I notice the way he’s dressed.