I took off my jacket and rolled up my sleeves. “Alright. I’ve got this.”
Mrs. Appleby frowned. “You sure?”
“I once made a wedding cake with prison flour and a plastic knife,” I said, tying my hair back. “This? This is therapy.”
She didn’t even ask. She just pointed to the mixing bowls.
“Cream’s in the fridge. I’ll buy you a decade’s worth of coffee if you pull this off.”
“Deal.”
I set to work, assessing the damage, scraping off the worst of it, smoothing the fondant, and piping a fresh batch of almond rosettes. The kids, now occupied with bowls of flourand plastic cookie cutters, made a respectable effort at not destroying anything else.
Ten minutes later, the cake was whole again. Maybe even better. I stepped back, wiping a smear of buttercream off my cheek.
Mrs. Appleby let out a breath. “Sheryn won’t know a thing.”
“She won’t even suspect,” I said, grinning.
She watched me a second longer, then shook her head with admiration. “You ever get tired of whatever it is you’re doing these days, I’ve got an apron with your name on it.”
A laugh slipped out before I could stop it. “I’ll think about it.”
One of the twins held up a sugar dough blob and proudly declared it was a dinosaur. Or a duck. Honestly, it could’ve been a shoe.
And just like that, the whole morning shifted. The fear, the bruises, the near-death memory—it all faded for a moment.
Here, in the chaos of Mrs. Appleby’s bakery, elbow-deep in almond frosting and kid-shaped dough disasters, I felt something dangerously close to hope.
13
NOAH
When I woke up, Maya was already gone. Not that I expected a drawn-out goodbye or anything, but still, I kind of did. Bridesmaids probably had a dozen things to do on wedding morning. Like fixing floral emergencies or staging last-minute eyeliner rescues.
A buzz lit up my phone.
Maya:You’re in, partner. Noon. Main tent. Same one as the rehearsal. Wear your best suit. P.S.: Don’t go into the wrong tent. Unless you want to get handed a tray of mini quiches and traumatized by Aunt Lorna’s unsolicited life advice.
I barked out a laugh.
Noon. That worked. It gave me just enough time to deal with the furniture delivery and maybe, finally, buy something for the stray that kept hanging around.
At the store, I grabbed a water bowl, some snacks, and a leash. I almost picked out a collar, but I didn’t even have a name for him yet. I went through a few possibilities in my head as I paid.
Ghost? Too dramatic.
Christmas? Absolutely not.
Tank? He was built like one, but way too peaceful.
Kevin? …what? No.
Yeah, I wasn’t great at this.
I drove out to The Sundown, hoping he’d be there. But the place was quiet. The porch sat empty, and the gate was ajar, the breeze catching it just enough to make it creak.
No sign of him.
