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How does a woman like her come to not only have met butintimatelyknow Austin Lawson? This isn't an assumption on my part, either. They know each other. I didn't talk to them the entire night of that party, but I watched for hours from a distance. Observing them. Every time their hands touched, she stroked his chest, his hair. Every time, he laughed at one of her jokes.
Austin had introduced her to Harris as a good friend of his, no doubt trying to excuse why he brought some girl and not his wife. But I could tell from their body language that they were so much more than just "good friends." They were comfortable with each other. Whatever this was between them, they'd been doing it for a long time.
And then there was that moment, later in the night, when Austin and Brittany were preparing to leave. They hadn't spoken to me all night, even though this was a party in my honor. They didn't say hello, and at this point in the night, they certainly weren't going to come over to say goodbye. Good for them. I don't know what I would have done if they had.
Even then, Austin didn't need to say anything to me to get his point across. As he turned away from Harris, readying himself to go to the coat check for his jacket, his eyes landed directly on mine. And a smile had crossed his face. A horrible, smug grin. Like he knew something I didn't.
It sounds conspiratorial, even in my own mind. I don't have all the pieces to the puzzle yet. I don't know how they got the new landlord in on this, for one thing. But there's something fishy going on here, that's for sure. And when I figure out what that is, I'll—
"Hey there," Brittany says beside me, perky as ever. I jump, nearly dropping my measuring cup into the active mixer. She laughs. "Didn't mean to scare you, Brett. Uh, I mean Mr. Cooper."
"I hope not," I say dryly.
"Definitely. You've got a really important job over here."
I curl my lip. "Yeah. Important jobs shouldn't be messed with."
Her eyes sweep across the kitchen, not catching the meaning within my tone. "It's amazing, isn't it? Making a cake fortheTinsley Simon? I never imagined this would happen! I'm so excited!"
"Are you?"
Brittany blinks at me in confusion. "Of course I am."
I snort. "Could have fooled me."
The smile slips from her face as her eyes narrow. "You're being really intense right now."
I set down the measuring cup harder than I mean to, sending it clattering across the countertop. "Fuck off, Brittany."
She scowls. "Wow. You really aren't a morning person."
I scowl at her. "I said what I said."
"Hey." Denise walks over, putting her hand on Brittany's shoulder and her body between the two of us. "Knock that off."
She steers Brittany around to face the packaging station. "You go and start putting everything in boxes, okay, sweetie? I'll be over to help you in a second."
Shooting me one last glare, Brittany does as Denise suggests, scurrying away across the kitchen. But even the distance between us doesn't dissolve my anger. I turn back to the recipe I'm working on, and as soon as I pick an egg up into my hand to separate it, I accidentally crush the entire thing in my fist.
"What is going on with you, Brett?" Denise asks in a hushed tone. "I know we're all feeling the pressure, but don't take it out on my assistant manager. Please."
"You don't understand," I spit, roughly wiping my hands clean.
"Then tell me," She insists. "What don't I understand? Is this…." Her eyes flick almost instinctively to her daughter. "Is this about our conversation in the car?"
"No. It isn't."
"Good. Because that's not Brittany's fault, and taking it out on her isn't helping."
You have no idea.
My theories fly through my head again. And for a moment, I'm desperate to tell her what I know. So desperate that it almost hurts.
But as I look down at Denise again, considering saying the words, I feel my resolve crumpling like an old receipt. Despite the intensity of our conversation this morning, there is a passion for baking in her eyes again. Even beneath all the stress and the concern over my fight with Brittany, she looks… truly happy.
I think back on how she's been this morning at the bakery since we stepped into this kitchen and got to work. While I've been bent over the mixer, buried in my mind, she's been laughing again. Heartily, deep from her chest. She's been happy here in the bakery with all of us working together. All her favorite people are in one place. The sister she adores, the daughter she never gets to see anymore, the boyfriend of a couple months. This day isn't just about her career to her.
Looking back at her, my heart swells in adoration. I've never felt this way for a woman before. Never in my forty-seven years. This level of need, this desire, and this overwhelming call to protect her, are all new to me. New and unfamiliar and… wonderful. I wouldn't trade it for anything.
