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Why?
For years that question has plagued me. Eaten at me. And yet last night when I had the chance, I didn't ask.
A sudden chiming echoes through the small hotel room, startling me from my thoughts. It takes me a few seconds to realize it’s coming from my phone and even longer for me to find it.
By the time I locate the device on the floor next to the bed, the ringing has stopped. It signals a missed call from a number I don't recognize so I don’t bother calling it back, figuring it’s probably some telemarketer or something. I get more spam calls than I do real ones most days.
Sticking the device in my back pocket, I zip up my suitcase and slip on my flip flops before doing one last sweep of the room to make sure I have everything, trying to ignore the visions that cloud my mind of Westin and me stumbling through this space last night, not able to get each other naked fast enough.
After checking out at the front desk, I head across the street to the little coffee shop on the corner, ordering a latte and a muffin before taking a seat at one of the small round tables next to the window.
Deciding to double check my flight details and make sure there are no changes or delays, I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and unlock the screen. That’s when I realize that whoever called me left a message. For the sake of making sure I don’t miss anything important, I click on the voicemail and press the device to my ear.
“Scar. Hey, it's me.” My stomach bottoms out at the sound of Westin’s voice. “I was hoping we could get together while you're still in town. We need to talk about what happened last night. Call me.”
As soon as the message ends, I drop my phone onto the table and pull in a slow, shaky breath. He’s obviously the last person I expected to hear from, especially after he snuck out of my room without a word. Hell, I don’t even know how he got my number. Though if I had to guess, he probably used my phone while I was sleeping to call himself so he’d have it.
I know I shouldn’t call him back.
And yet that doesn’t stop me from staring at my phone wanting to do exactly that.
Curiosity, that’s all it is.
And yet, even I know that’s not entirely true.
The sooner I’m out of California the better.
Deciding to check in with my Aunt Kari in an effort to keep myself from doing something I’m sure to regret- though I doubt I could top last night even if I tried- I grab my phone again, scrolling through my contacts until I find her number. Pressing call, it only rings once before her chipper voice comes on the line.
“You are way too perky right now.” I laugh..
“I take it you’re not having a good morning.” She guesses right. “How was the wedding?”
“Interesting,” I say, not wanting to go into too much detail over the phone.
“How so?” she asks, clearly in the middle of stuffing her mouth full of something but not letting that stop her from speaking.
“I'll tell you about it when I get back. How's the shop? Everything going okay?” I ask, referring to the bakery that Kari and I own together. She's the business, I'm the baker. We make one hell of a team.
“Well I haven't burnt it down... Yet.” She laughs. “Maria is doing really well. She's not you, but she can make a mean cupcake.”
“I'm glad we decided to hire more people. We were getting way too many orders in for just me to handle.”
“Yeah, we got another order yesterday afternoon. They want you to design a lighthouse cake for the fall festival again. This year they want the thing to have an actual working light on the top.” She sighs audibly.
“They don't ask too much or anything, do they?” I laugh. “When do they need it by?”
“Well that's the thing. They moved the festival up two weekends this year, so now it's on the twenty-seventh.”
“You're kidding me, right? That's less than two weeks away. It’ll take me days to map out the design and order the supplies I need.” I fight past the mild panic that begins to build in my chest, nearly knocking the coffee out of the waitress’s hands when she moves to sit it on the table in front of me.
I give her an apologetic smile, turning my attention back to my aunt.
“Why would you accept an order like that?” I ask, knowing Kari has never turned down business a day in her life. But seriously, some things just aren't possible.
“Because it's great advertisement, you know that. The whole town will be there andLayerswill be the spotlight. You saw how business skyrocketed after last year.” She knows I can't argue with her logic.
“Remind me again why I decided to go into business with you,” I joke.
