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"Denise, I…." My breath catches in my lungs, the words refusing to leave my mouth. I can't do it. "It was nice meeting you," I finally say.
She half-smiles. "You too. Good luck."
And then, with that, she hops into her van and drives away.
I sit around Bash's apartment for a couple of hours, unsure what I should do. Should I tell Denise the truth, knowing it will absolutely break her heart? Or worse, make her hate me? Ever since that awkward exchange last night, she seems uncomfortable around me. This would just make it a million times worse.
The more I learn about Denise, the more I want to help her, to protect her from a world that keeps trying to shut her down. I try to remember my motivations from just a couple of days ago when I was sitting in Bash's office and explaining to him that what I was doing wasn't wrong. Where was that motivation now?
I believed that taking Denise's bakery wouldn't hurt her. She inherited the bakery, after all. It's not like she built it from the ground up. While that's still true, the reality of the situation—her inheriting it from her deceased mother, the bakery going up in smoke around her while she struggles to put out the flames—puts it in a completely new perspective.
Opening the baggie of cookies, I slip one out, playing with it between my fingers. She must have made these last night, in her home kitchen.
There has to be a kind way to do this, I think. Some way that will hurt her less. She'll fight for her bakery, that's for sure. I can tell. But if I can come up with the right words to say, maybe there's a way we can both win here.
I bring the cookie to my nose. Chocolate, and something even sweeter that I can't put my finger on. I take a bite.
And boy are these things delicious.
* * *
The Sugar BreezeBakery is only a few blocks away from Bash's apartment, and even then, I walk as fast as I can. I don't know if she even wants to talk to me. But I have to see her again. I have to.
As I stand across the street and wait for the light to change, I see Tinsley and Ford exiting the Sugar Breeze's front door. They must have only just finished their cake tasting with Denise. The light changes, and I dash across the road.
Tinsley's face lights up when she sees me, and she clicks her way over to me for an enormous hug.
"Denise is incredible, Brett!" she squeals. "The cakes were amazing! I'm so happy!"
Ford Augustine grunts behind her in agreement, still wearing his near-permanent frown.
"Is she still inside?" I ask quickly, very out of breath. I shouldn't run in my work shoes.
"Yes," Tinsley says. "She's cleaning up the cakes right now. Oh, they were beautiful, Brett! There was this chocolate one that wassosoft. Oh! And this cute strawberry one with chocolate chips and green frosting looked just like a watermelon when she cut into it! But our favorite was the lemon. It was perfect."
"That's great, Tinsley. And it was nice seeing you again." I give Augustine a nod. "You too, Ford. But I need to run in and talk to her."
"Better be quick," Tinsley says. "Denise was talking about heading out to dinner to celebrate. We would go with her, but we have another meeting with, um…." She turns to her fiancé. "Is it the magazine interview or the kid's birthday party? I can't remember."
But before either of them can figure it out, I've already run inside.
I spot her instantly. The freezer door is propped open, and she's putting the leftovers of the cakes we made into a giant freezer. She spots me and smiles, the biggest one I've seen since her birthday party at the Silver Coop.
"Hey, Brett," she says with a huge grin.
I can't help but smile along with her. Her happiness is contagious. "I heard it went well."
"Reallywell." Hands empty after putting the last piece of cake in the freezer, she kicks it closed and hurries over to me. I start to step back, assuming she wants to get past me. But instead, she wraps her arms around my neck.
"Thank you so much for your help, Brett," she gushes. "This is the best thing that's happened to me or the bakery in… in so long."
A sob breaks from her throat, and even though I'm certain it's from happiness, I can't help but hug her back, trying to squeeze some comfort into her. I press my lips against the top of her head, and her sweet smell enters my nose. Lavender and honey.
"You're welcome," I murmur. "You deserve to be happy, Denise."
Stepping back, she looks up at me. "I'm sorry for… how awkwardly things ended last night."
"No, no, Denise. It was my fault."
