And there was Jake.
Leaning against the lamppost again, arms crossed, trying—and failing—to look like he wasn't holding his breath along with her.
Hannah turned back to Eleanor, her heart hammering. "He's notmy—he's just?—"
Eleanor snorted, shaking her head. "Oh, honey." A knowing smile tugged at her lips. "You can tell yourself that all you want."
And with that, she walked out.
Hannah exhaled slowly,rubbing her tired eyes as she stared at the open ledger in front of her. Numbers swam together, blurring under the dim light of the single lamp she had left on.
The rest of Sugar & Spice was dark, the chairs stacked on tables, the display cases wiped down, the scent of cinnamon and sugar lingering in the air like a ghost of the day.
She should have gone home. Should have climbed upstairs, showered off the exhaustion, and collapsed into bed.
Instead, she was still here, staring at the past month's income, knowing it wasn't enough.
Not yet.
With a heavy sigh, she reached for the pile of old order forms she had been sorting earlier. Most were ones she didn't have the heart to throw away—customer requests from people who no longer came.
Mrs. Foster's weekly scones for her bridge club.
The elementary school's birthday cupcakes for the student of the month.
The Harrison family's favorite cookies.
Hannah's fingers trembled as she traced the ink on the last one.
She shouldn't have kept these. It was masochistic, holding onto proof of what she had lost.
But something stopped her from tossing them in the trash.
She ran her hand over the forms before sliding them into a drawer—out of sight, but not gone.
She leaned back in her chair, rubbing at the ache in her neck. Her gaze drifted across the kitchen, half-lidded with exhaustion. Everything looked the same.
But nothing was.
Her eyes landed on one of the open cabinets.
Jake's coffee cup.
She stilled.
It sat on the second shelf—pushed toward the back, like she had tried to forget it was there. A plain, ceramic thing. He had used it every morning, his favorite for no reason at all.
Her chest ached.
She should throw it out. Get rid of it.
But she didn't.
Instead, she pushed back from the desk and crossed the room. Without thinking, she reached for it, cradling it between her hands.
The warmth of his skin had long faded from it, but it still felt like him.
A lump formed in her throat.
