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“Mom.” I go to her, grabbing her hands and giving them a squeeze. “We had to sell. You and Dad both worry about your retirement, about everyone in the family ending up with nothing when we’ve all counted on the properties to earn us income. This way you’ll have ready cash flow and won’t have to worry so much.”
“He stole your future,” she says bitterly, jerking out of my touch. “That man you’re dating and spending the night with stole everything from you! Don’t you get it? You’re our only daughter, you have no real prospects beyond the very man who’s ruining your life, and you act like you’re making the right choice! What in the world is wrong with you?”
I blink at her, shocked by her outburst. Mom doesn’t have outbursts. She’s always calm and cool and so very, very wise.I used to go to her all the time when I was younger for advice. She’s great under pressure—the exception being when it comes to me and the choices I make.
“He’s not stealing from me,” I tell her. “Can’t you see how this will help you guys? I’ll be fine. I don’t need the bakery.” But I do. What will I do without it? Gina has a job lined up already. Archer is secretly trying to woo her. He’s totally being a dirty rat, but can I fault him for it? No. And at least he tells me to my face.
Gage just keeps his secrets to himself and pretends everything’s fine. So do I. But everything is definitely not fine. I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself when I lose the bakery. There’s no point in denying it now.
Autumn Harvest is done for.
“You needed to know,” Mom says firmly, going to sit on the edge of my bed. “I can’t stand that he’s kept you in the dark. You need to come up with another plan.”
“Like what?” I sit on the bed next to her, my mind too full trying to process everything.
“Break it off with him. Finish your time at the bakery until it closes. Then go to Italy and visit your cousins,” she suggests hopefully. “You can have a nice three-month-long vacation there. Enjoy the sights. Meet new people.”
Dread fills me. The trip to Italy is one all unmarried Italian girls make in the hope that they can find a husband. Either they end up staying there for the rest of their lives with their new husbands or they bring them home. I’ve seen a few cousins do this very thing. Only one came back, with a macho, irritating-as-hell Italian who refused to speak English and bossed her around all the time.
She eventually divorced him, not that anyone could blameher. Though her mama acted like she thought her daughter was going straight to hell.
Sometimes, I really despise being a part of such a traditional family.
“I’m not going to Italy,” I say vehemently. She needs to know that suggestion can’t even make its way onto the table.
“Fine. Break up with him. Find something else to do. Go work with Gina at the hotel. You need to do something. Unless you have no problem living here with us for the rest of your life, unmarried and miserable.”
“Are you living in the stone ages? What in the world is wrong with you?” I stand, glaring down at her. “You act like my being single and jobless is a kiss of death!”
She stares up at me pointedly, not saying a word.
She doesn’t have to. I heard what I said. And it’s slowly sinking in that yes, indeed, being single and jobless is the kiss of death.
For me.
Yet again, proving how life can change in an instant. I’ve gone from bad to fabulous to absolutely terrible.
All in the matter of approximately four weeks.
Gage
Ilove Autumn Harvest.” Ivy sighs, scrolling through the photos of the bakery I just uploaded on my laptop from my phone. “But we can definitely spruce it up for her. I’m almost finished with Matt’s job and have something lined up right after it, but I can do this on the side. The bakery and caféalready have good bones, so it won’t be too difficult. I can put something together quick.”
“I don’t want some slapped-together job, Ivy,” I warn her, scrolling through the photos of the bakery that’s so much a part of Marina, I can’t imagine her not working there.
The bakery I now own. The building I’m going to give her as a gift.
Right before I ask her to marry me.
“I still can’t believe you’re doing this.” Ivy smiles at me, slowly shaking her head. “I never thought I’d see you fall, Gage. You were such a jackass about Archer and me getting together. And now look at you.”
“Hey, I was trying to protect you. I know how Archer is. Was,” I correct when she sends me a pointed look.
“And I know how you were. A workaholic stick-in-the-mud who only found pleasure with the many cars you purchased.”
Jesus. She makes me sound like a total loser. “Thanks a lot,” I mutter.
She nudges me. “I only say that because I’m your sister, and I can be brutally honest.” Pausing, Ivy contemplates me. “Can I tell you something else?”
