I stared at the back door until my eyes blurred.
Then I wiped my face hard, sucked in a shaky breath, and turned toward the kitchen.
The mixers needed to be turned on.The ovens needed to be preheated.The front lights needed to be switched to their warm glow.
In an hour, customers would come in smiling and asking for Christmas magic.
And I would give it to them.
Because that was what I did.
Even if my own world had just tipped sideways.
Even if my heart felt like it had been split clean down the middle.
Chapter Twelve
Saint
Christmas Eve didn’t feel like Christmas.
It felt like a mistake I couldn’t undo.
I sat in my truck outside the clubhouse for a long minute, staring at the missed call log on my phone like it might change if I looked hard enough.It didn’t.
Three calls to Belle.
Two texts.
No answer.
I tried to tell myself she was busy.That she was working.That she was sleeping.That she needed time.
But the truth sat heavily in my chest.
She was ignoring me.
And I couldn’t blame her.
I could still see her face in the bakery.Her eyes were bright with stress and anger, and her pride snapped like a wire.I’d told her the truth expecting… something else.Relief, maybe.A shaky laugh.That exhale people let out when the weight finally comes off.
Instead, I’d watched her look at me like I’d stolen something.
I hadn’t meant to.
I hadn’t meant to hurt her.
I just… couldn’t stand there and do nothing.
I rubbed a hand over my jaw and stared out at the snow-dusted street.
All I wanted to do was go straight to Belle’s.
But Mom’s voice echoed in my head the way it always did when I was about to do something with consequences.
Think first, Saint.Then move.
So I started the truck and turned toward Mom’s house.
