And doing it on my own will be nearly impossible.
I listen to her message two more times to write down the list as I resign myself to the task.
Tying up my hair, I make my way to the kitchen and check the ingredients before I take a marker and start laying out the tasks.
I didn’t get to do this kind of thing a lot growing up, but I watched Mom do this all the time.
Sighing, I pull on an apron and start pulling ingredients and the scale to measure everything out.
I’m halfway through the measurements when Gabe shows up, dons an apron, and steps in beside me. “What’s on the schedule?”
I blink at him. “What? You’re going to help me?”
He pegs me with a look. “I used to help your mom in the mornings. After you left. And holidays.”
“Really?”
He nods. “Your parents struggled for a few months. In general.”
That sends a new wave of guilt through me.
“We all dealt in our own ways.”
Yeah, I ran.
Didn’t talk to barely anyone for a long while after I left.
Because Mom and Dad always wanted to talk about what happened, and I wanted to think of anything but.
We communicated through my sister for months, and I finally called Dad when Daisy told me they’d tracked Franklin down to press charges. Dad had, more specifically.
And I know I’d missed a lot, that my mom missed me like crazy—given how often she called and texted me to check in over the years, how many times I refused to come home—but Dad?
I didn’t think my leaving affected him much at all. Except for the embarrassment I must have caused. The damage to his pride.
Because none of the other girls in Pinebrook got romantically swindled by some out-of-towner while he was on vacation.
I finish the cupcake scaling and stare at the table until Gabe’s hand finds my back.
The warmth of his touch is reassuring.
Soothing.
And I want to turn into him to forget it all, but the mountain of work ahead of us is too daunting to fall apart right now.
Even if only a little bit.
“You never did tell me about what happened.”
“You never asked.” Silence as his palm smooths down my back. The heat immense. “Besides, the way people tell stories around here, I’m sure you know already.”
We share another meaningful silence as we move things around.
Gabe starts mixing the first batch of cupcakes as I prepare the pans with nonstick spray and cupcake liners.
He’s efficient and knows his way around the mixer.
I scoop the batter and put the first batch of cupcakes in the oven before starting on the fillings.
