I flipped on the lights and stood there for a second longer than necessary.
Just breathed.
“Alright,” I said to the dogs.“Let the chaos begin.”
I let them off their leashes and got to work.
By ten a.m., the bakery was slammed.
I barely had time to think, which was good because thinking led to worrying, and worrying led to spiraling, and spiraling led to mistakes.I moved from station to station, directed Marcy and Jessa, boxed orders, answered questions, and smiled until my cheeks hurt.
The doorbell rang constantly.
Each time it did, a little jolt of anxiety shot through me.
But he never came back.
The loan shark.
I told myself that was a good thing.
I told myself it meant he’d moved on to some other poor sucker for the day.
Maybe Saint had scared him off the other day.
Around noon, my vision swam.
Just for a second.
I gripped the edge of the counter until the room settled, then straightened like nothing had happened.
Marcy noticed anyway.Of course she did.
“Sit,” she ordered, and shoved a stool behind me.
“I don’t have time,” I protested.
“You’re sitting,” she said.“Or I’m tying you to that stool with baker’s twine.”
I sighed and gave in as I lowered myself down.My legs trembled like they’d been waiting for permission.
She pressed a bottle of water into my hand.“Drink.”
I did.
She softened a little.“You’re doing too much.”
“I know.”
“You don’t have to prove anything.”
I laughed weakly.“That’s where you’re wrong.”Marcy didn’t know about the loan shark.No one did.
The bell jingled again.
This time, something in my chest loosened.
Saint stepped inside, snow clinging to his jacket, a paper bag tucked under his arm.He scanned the room automatically, and his eyes found me instantly.He moved around the register and came right back into the bakery like he owned the place.
