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I should kiss her. But we weren’t eighteen and in a ballroom.
I stepped back, guilt seeping down my spine. “I’m sorry. I should probably leave you to it.”
Confusion flitted over her face before she carefully smoothed it out.
I wanted to help her, not make things more difficult.
Sophie grabbed a bakery box from the shelves. “Take whatever you think Kendall will like.”
I took the box, moving toward the cooling trays to mindlessly place pastries inside. When the box was full, I hesitated, not sure how to acknowledge what had just happened between us.
“I want to pay you for the pastries.”
She leveled me with a look.
“It’s too much.”
“Fine.” She washed her hands and then led the way to the front counter. I waited patiently while she opened the register and rang me up.
She kept her gaze carefully averted, but I saw the slight tremor in her hands when she took my credit card.
“Thank you for the waters and the pastries.” I lifted the box, knowing I was thanking her for the dance.
“You’re welcome.” Her voice was soft.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your baking time or make things hard for you.”
She smiled, then moved to disable the alarm. “You didn’t.”
She unlocked the door and pushed it open for me.
“Bye, Soph,” I said, wanting to touch her, to reassure her that everything would be okay, but it wasn’t my place anymore. Instead, I walked out.
“Please bring Kendall by. I’d love to meet her,” Sophie called after me.
I’d always thought she was angry that I’d gotten Melanie pregnant, that she resented my daughter. It wasn’t anything she’d ever said or done, other than she didn’t reach out to me after it happened.
She was always polite, but something simmered just under the surface. It felt a lot like disappointment or frustration. So I was pleased she’d invited Kendall.
“She’d like that too,” I said softly before I walked away.
What just happened? I’d stopped by to make sure she was safe, then I stayed to watch her bake, then danced with her in the kitchen.
Was it merely closure or the start of something even sweeter?
ChapterFive
SOPHIE
Ilet out the breath I’d been holding when I closed the door behind him. Unlike the other day, he walked, since he was holding a bakery box. I watched him until he was out of sight. He’d stopped in for water and then stayed to watch me bake.
It was intimate, at least to me. Nothing was more special to me—baking in my kitchen—other than my family. I’d never invited anyone into this space early in the morning because it was a form of meditation for me.
I knew the recipes by heart, and I used the time to sort through feelings and thoughts, think of new recipes, and evaluate my business and my life. I always thought having someone with me would feel intrusive, but it hadn’t.
I was very aware of the space that Mark took up in my kitchen. He was somehow larger than his physical presence. He’d always been that way to me. He’d been a savior of sorts when we met. He pulled me away from my family, giving me a needed break from my sometimes chaotic homelife.
I’d never gotten a chance to grieve the loss of my mother because I’d had to step in to help raise my sisters. My father hadn’t expected that, but it was our reality. He needed to work, and the girls needed help.
