I want to laugh, but I can’t push the sound past the forlorn feeling in my chest. “When I talked to Warren, he told me in no uncertain terms that he was here to fight for Addison, and he was going to use all the tools in his arsenal, including the underhanded ones. He has no problem exploiting her guilt and using it to his advantage. What if it works? What if he tips the scale in his favor?”
“That will only happen if you keep being a foolish ass and don’t let Addison tell you herself how she feels.” Lennon tugs on my hand, forcing me to meet her gaze again. “You might not want a competition, but I’m afraid Warren has brought it to you anyway. You fought for me for years, Brady. Are you exhausted, or afraid of losing again?”
I rub the bridge of my nose with my finger. “A little of both, probably.” I don’t like admitting it.
“Great. Now, it’s time to get out of your own way. And if you don’t fight for her, then I will. And I’ll fight dirty just like her ex, because nobody suspects a pregnant woman.” She pats her belly and smiles triumphantly.
I wrap an arm around Lennon’s shoulders and pull her into me. Her hair smells like the Lennon I remember, but it doesn’t do things to my heart the way it used to. My heart wants only Addison.
“I love you, Lennon.”
She hugs me back. “I love you too, Brady.”
Finn walks into the room, sweaty, eyeing us with a bottle of water tipped up to his lips. “Should I be worried?” He asks the question in a voice that holds no concern.
I release Lennon and stand up, striding across the small room. Patting his back, I say, “Here, hold my trophy while I kiss your girlfriend.”
Finn spits out his mouthful of water, some of it flying into the air and some of it dribbling down his chin. “I forgot about that shirt,” he says, smiling and wiping the back of his hand across his chin.
“Ugh, I didn’t.” Lennon’s lip curls.
Finn goes to Lennon, using one finger to lift her face for a kiss. “That shirt was awesome.”
“Seventh grade Finn was awesome,” she clarifies. “Seventh grade Finn’s shirt was not awesome.”
“Bye, guys,” I say from the door. If I waited for their banter to cease, I’d be waiting for hours.
“Where are you going?” Lennon asks with a cautiously excited expression.
“To win my girl.”
“Yes!” she whoops, tossing her hands in the air. She high-fives Finn. “It worked,” she tells him, continuing her celebration dance.
I slip out the door and hustle back to my room. I need to hurry if I’m going to make it to the results of the baking competition.
* * *
Lonesome Day isin full swing. Main Street has been blocked off by local police, so I’m forced to park my truck a couple blocks from the bakery and hustle.
I turn the corner and see people crammed onto the front lawn at Lucy’s, hovering on the sidewalk and spilling out into the street. A rectangular table sits on a platform, and five people are positioned behind it.
The table holds seven trays of baked goods. It must be the goods made by each entrant, which means one of them is Addison’s. I search the trays for treats I recognize, and three from the left I spot butterscotch blondies piled beside rows of cupcakes and muffins.
I walk through the crowd, my eyes seeking out every blonde and quickly eliminating them all. Where is Addison? She has to be here somewhere.
A loud voice booms through the crowd. “People, we have a winner!”
My gaze swings up to the stage, where Lucy, the owner of the bakery, stands with her arms open. “This wasn’t easy, but there was one tray of goodies that pulled ahead with a special treat we all have an affinity for.” She beams. “Addison West, I hope your blueberry muffins are permanently on the menu at your new bakery!”
The crowd lets loose with a raucous cheer. Lucy’s eyes scan everyone, looking for Addison just like I am. Her smile wavers every second that passes without Addison’s presence.
“Uh, our winner seems to be missing in action,” Lucy says, her tone confused and slightly annoyed.
I raise my hand, maneuvering my way through the crowd. “Lucy, hi, I’m Brady, Addison’s boyfriend.”
Relief makes Lucy’s chest sag. “Everyone, Addison sent a proxy to accept her win.” She points at me. “This is her boyfriend, Brady.”
I turn and face the group. All the gazes are excited and expectant, until my stare lands on a frown of disapproval.
