My mind boggled when they turned, revealing the print on their matching shirts.
Not all heroes wear capes.
Some bake.
Time slowed as I read the words again.
The hostess, Pam, appeared in the distance, hustling in our direction, until her eyes met mine. Then she stopped short, pulled a phone from her pocket, and hurried away.
My phone rang a heartbeat later.
The pink-shirted group turned toward me at the sound. Their eyes widened.
I balanced the box against my hip and answered the call, panic tightening my throat.
“Sophie,” Pam whispered. “They know. We all know.”
My mouth opened, then shut.
Should I run? Feign confusion? Spill the truth to these strangers before speaking with Lucas?
No, I couldn’t do that.
One of the gaping women raised her phone, and I winced in response. But she didn’t record me; she turned away and tapped the screen. Was she sending a text? Making a phone call?
My heart hammered and my pulse beat audibly in my ears as the others stared. They looked to my panicked face, then at the box in my hands on repeat. My skin heated to combustion, and my emotions launched straight from earth and into the atmosphere.
This was not how tonight was supposed to go. I’d planned to share my secret with a friend, whom I trusted to accept my confession without making me regret it.
The epiphany nearly derailed my panic. I trusted Lucas.
Not just abstractly, or in theory, but in practice, and completely.
As if somehow conjured by my thoughts, he appeared.
Virginia strolled along at his side.
The disappointment in his eyes nearly ruined me.
Virginia’s expression lit up when she noticed me at the front desk. “Sophie, we were all just talking about you.”
My good manners insisted I return her polite greeting, but words failed. I looked to Lucas for help, and he nodded. What did that mean? What should I do? Where was Alicia when I needed—
No,I thought.I don’t need someone else to handle my messes anymore.
I could do this.
I had no idea how, but I would figure it out on my own.
Breathe,I reminded myself. Collapsing now would only cause a scene and ruin my perfect pastries.
“We hoped we’d run into you tonight,” Virginia said. She motioned vaguely to the women in pink shirts. Her easy smile added confusion to my already rattled mind. Her morning post about my company was positive and informative. I’d assumed that would be the end of her interest in my story.
So why was she here?
“We stopped by earlier,” she continued. “I thought I’d catch you around the same time we met before. Oh!” She pressed a hand to her chest. “I’m so sorry. You probably don’t remember me. I’m Virginia Bonnie Black. We talked about the Invisible Baker,” she said, as if that was something I could possibly forget.
She had me cornered with a camera on her phone and a captive audience, but she didn’t call me out on my lie. She’d asked directly about the Invisible Baker, and I’d dodged her.
