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Mia smiles and rolls her eyes at her son, ruffling his hair.
“That's very nice of you Chase,” I say, and head to the couch. "What do you say we order a pizza while we finish the movie?"
"I love Pizza!" Chase announces and Mikey's eyes flutter open. When he sees me, he sits up and rubs his eyes.
"You doing ok buddy?" I ask, as I fit myself to his other side.
He nods, but then almost immediately tucks his body into mine. Mia smiles at the two of us, her eyes misty.
And just like that, I feel like I'm home.
17
MIA
The next fewdays are simultaneously some of the best and worst I’ve ever had.
On the one hand, everything should be perfect. Business is doing well, better than it ever has been. I have to grudgingly admit it’s all thanks to Luke. The man is a genius at marketing. A part of me thought that at least most of his business success was because he already was pretty well known. I figured his fame for hockey carried over.
Now I know how wrong I was.
Because in just a short time, he’s managed to pretty much triple my regular clientele and help me gain a significant following online. He listed out all the deficiencies in my business and then put me in contact with the marketing manager for one of his companies. Then, I simply told the guy my goals.
He outlined a marketing plan for me, and with just a few well-placed ads, we’re now getting more customers than ever before. I can't thank him enough for it.
"It’s easy to market when the products are good," he jokes, whenever I try to express my gratitude, which for some reason, makes Luke uncomfortable. Whenever I try to tell him thanks for everything, he always brushes it off with a joke or intentionally tries to piss me off so I don’t talk about it anymore. Or he turns it sexual.
And in our case, it’s very easy to turn it sexual. The tension between us sizzles every moment we spend together, ever since our hot night.
Almost every evening I dream about it. That night we spent together, all those years ago, merging with the recent one, too. The memories meld together in a passionate haze until I can't breathe without thinking about it until I feel it all around me.
And I know Luke is fighting the same lust I feel. I see it in his eyes, along with a question that I can't answer yet. I try to ignore it and it's easier when we're around the kids, doing activities, or our pretend-family routine. Usually, Luke and Chase are outside practicing, and Mikey and I are baking up a storm. And then we get together for a nice dinner. I can sometimes ignore the desire, then.
But at the same time, I have to remind myself often that this isn’t real. It's so easy to forget that once this is over and some time has passed, I’ll return home and our 'family dinners' will no longer be a thing. Of course, I hope Luke still allows Mikey to come over and bake with me once in a while, but I’m not holding out any hope for it.
Because I know pretty soon, when this is all over, Luke might hate me.
And he would be right too.
And that’s the reason for the guilt that’s been weighing me down lately, overcasting every small moment of happiness. I can hear time ticking away if I listen closely enough, and know that pretty soon I’ll need to fess up - and lose everything.
Just thinking about it makes me nauseous, so I try as much as possible not to. I push it to the back of my mind, smiling at customers and doing my job. And at night, I refuse to let myself be moody.
The deadline I gave myself is coming soon. I refuse to dwell on it before I have to.
As the bakery door jingles again, I’m almost relieved to be having another customer to take my mind off things.
It’s a tall, stately woman who walks in. She has a piercing look on her face as she glances around the store. Her arms are crossed over her chest and she nods distantly, but her face squeezes into a frown.
“Hey, welcome to Kreamy,” I tell her. “What can I get you?”
“You’re still open?” The words are said in a snobby tone I don't understand. "You're not supposed to be open."
Then why are you here?But I don't ask the question on the tip of my tongue. I maintain my welcoming smile, saying, “Well you came in just around closing time, but no worries. We still have a bunch of treats available. Samples too, if you want to try them.”
“No thanks,” she says. “I came to talk to the owner. I’m assuming that's you.”
"That’s correct,” I answer, and it takes everything in me for my smile not to slip, as the woman’s gaze crawls down my body, in a very insulting way. It's like she finds me lacking. “And you are?”
