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But…I’m tired. What if this competition is just too much?
I’ll be fifty before I know it. I’ve basically had two full careers in my life, and I still have more to give—but when will it be enough?
I don’t know what I want. I want to win the competition. I want to feel that rush when we made those muffins yesterday, the timer counting down while I entered the flow that only happens when I’m baking.
I want to win a hundred grand and start my own bakery. I want my book to be a success…but I also want to feel Fallon’s arms around me and see him laugh when I say something he doesn’t expect.
So, when I meet Fallon’s gaze and shake my head, it’s not because I feel like I need to compete in order to be successful. For the first time in a long time, I’m doing it because I want to.
“No,” I tell him, my voice gaining strength. “I don’t want to quit. I just…don’t like crowds.”
His lips quirk. “Then I’ll keep you away from them. I’ll be your official personal-space-implementer and spider-catcher. I’ll take care of you, Jen. All you have to do is win.”
For the briefest moment, his eyes drop to my lips, and fire roars to life in my core. I want him to kiss me. Even after the past year, even after he left. Even though he’s the biggest distraction ever, and kissing would only mess with my head, I’m still desperate to taste his lips again.
Then Fallon’s eyes slide to the end of the alleyway, where Gus is standing with the cameraman. His cheeks are flushed, his blond hair wild around his head.
“We got some great shots in there, guys. Great shots. Let’s go to your place for a quick interview, then break for lunch. Amazing. Fan favorite in the making, Jen. I knew I was right to bet on you!”
Fallon drops his hands from my body, but his palm finds mine. He gives it a squeeze, and an injection of strength courses through me.
I glance up at him through my lashes, and let my lips slide into the first real smile I’ve had all day.
Yeah, I can do this—as long as Fallon is by my side.
CHAPTER 5
Fallon
I’ve never seen Jen’s house. In the years we worked side by side every day, I never even drove her home. So when we roll up to a small apartment building on the outskirts of the town center, I’m not quite sure what to expect. Militant neatness, perhaps? Spartan decor? Something super organized, minimalist, Pinterest-worthy?
Well, it’s not what greets me on the other side of the door.
Jen lives in a damn jungle. There are plants everywhere. Every windowsill. Every flat surface. Every corner. There’s an entire bookcase filled with cacti and succulents, and through the windows to the balcony, I see dozens of planters full of herbs. Looking closely, I see little stickers on every single plant, color-coded by section with neat, square numbers handwritten on each of them.
I blink, surprised, then turn my attention to Jen. She’s dropping her purse on a little table by the door—which, no doubt, was bought for that exact purpose—and sucking those irresistible lips between her teeth. She lets them fall out with a long breath. “Well, this is it.” She spreads her arms. “I can, I dunno, give you a tour of my house plants?”
Gus frowns, eyes sweeping over the hundreds of bits of greenery in the room. I can almost hear the gears gnashing in his head, calculating how long a tour of this rainforest would take. “Uh, that’s…not necessary. Maybe we could see the kitchen?”
“Right, right.” Jen nods and starts walking toward the kitchen, which is visible through a doorway with no door, then pauses at one of the plants near the closest window. It’s got stiff green leaves which are maybe a couple inches across, three feet high. She pokes the dirt and frowns, then rotates the pot a hundred and eighty degrees. On her way past another plant, she prunes a few dead leaves off before finally making it to the kitchen.
I fucking love this woman.
I mean, I’ve known I liked her for a while, with her weird quirks, big fat brain, and thousand and one moods. But this? This is so exactly Jen that I can’t even put it into words. Obsessive, talented, oddly charming. There’s literally nothing she’s not good at.
Well, maybe public speaking. And small talk.
Still, as I follow everyone into the tight kitchen and lean against the doorway, I can’t help but watch the way she moves. She always has efficient, calculated movements. No extra energy to spare, because she’s probably analyzing the angle of the sun hitting her plants and how that’ll affect their growth. She leans against a counter, finally meeting my gaze.
Her cheeks are that shade of pink I love so much, eyes still a bit wild from the events at the café. Gus directs her to sit in a chair, then pulls one beside hers and tells me to take a seat. Unable to resist, I hook my arm across the back of her seat and lean my body into hers.
She doesn’t pull away, which makes warmth flood my chest.
I never should have left. I should have fought for her. Yes, I have a messy history that to this day still follows me like a shadow. But Jen would understand…wouldn’t she? She wants me just as much as I want her…unless my leaving was the last straw. I have to wonder—is it too late for us?
“We’re just trying to get to know the two of you,” Gus says as the cameraman unfurls a tripod and starts setting up lights. “If you make it far into the competition, we’ll be editing some of these clips throughout the show so the audience can see what you’re all about.”
White radiates from each of Jen’s knuckles as she clenches her hands into tight, tight fists. I use the hand I’ve got slung across the back of her chair to start drawing shapes on her shoulder with my fingertips until her muscles relax and her palms flatten on her thighs.
