“That’s not everything,” he said quietly.
I slammed the mixing bowl down.
Saint’s hand came to rest on the prep table, not touching me but grounding the space.“Belle,” he said again, softer.“Tell me.”
I tried to breathe.It felt like I couldn’t.
The words spilled out before I could stop them.“My dad owes money.”
Saint went still.
I kept going because if I stopped, I would lose my nerve.“A lot of money.Gambling.Loans.I don’t even know what all he did; I just know what I’m left with.And there’s a man,” my voice wavered, and I hated it, “there’s a man who keeps coming in here like he owns the place, saying it’s business and smiling like I’m supposed to be grateful he’s giving me time.”
Saint’s eyes went dark, his whole body tightening like a weapon being loaded.
I swallowed hard and forced myself to keep talking.“I’ve been trying to pay it off.That’s why I’ve been pushing so hard.That’s why I’ve been taking every order.Every extra gingerbread house.Every catering request.I need to sell a shit ton of gingerbread and cookies and whatever else people will buy so I can pay it off and make him go away.”My breath came fast now, the panic finally breaking loose.I turned back toward the office door.“And I was in there because I was adding it up, and I don’t think it’s going to be enough.”
Silence slammed down.
The ovens hummed.The fridge clicked.Pepper scratched at something in the corner.Salt’s nails tapped softly as he moved.
Saint didn’t move for a long beat.
Then, very calmly, he said, “I handled it.”
I froze so hard it felt like my bones locked.
“What?”I whispered.
Saint’s voice didn’t change.“I handled it.”
The room tilted.
I blinked at him like he’d started speaking another language.
“You,” I said slowly, “handled it.”
He nodded once.“Yeah.”
My hands started shaking again, but this time it wasn’t exhaustion.It was shock.Confusion.A sudden flash of heat under my skin that felt like anger.
“How?”I demanded.“How did you even know?”
Saint’s gaze held mine, steady as always.“The first day I walked into your bakery,” he said, “that guy came in right behind me.The way he looked at you, the way you went cold, the way he said your name like he owned it.I knew what he was.”
My stomach dropped, and I remembered that moment.Remembered how Saint had turned, calm and dangerous, and told him no without raising his voice.
“I found out who he was,” Saint continued.“I met with him yesterday.Made a deal.He’s done.He won’t come near you again.”
My mouth went dry.“A deal,” I repeated.
Saint nodded.“Half the debt.Cash.He took it.”
Half.
Half of a debt I’d been killing myself to pay.
My brain couldn’t make sense of it fast enough.“You paid him,” I said, my voice rising.“You paid my father’s debt.”
