I tapped her name and called.
“Bailey! I’ve been worried sick about you,” she answered after only two rings, her voice nearly shouting through the speaker. “I was just about to call you!”
The exhaustion hit me all at once.
“Relax, Sissy,” I sighed. “I’m fine. I just checked into the cottage. But you are not going to believe what happened today.”
I sank onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. Everything that had happened earlier felt like it had wrung me dry. I told myself I had moved on but today proved just how fragile that lie really was. Running away had always been my shield.
“Is Tristan there?” I asked quietly. “Can I talk to him?”
After the chaos of the day, all I wanted was to hear my son’s voice.
“You just missed him,” Sissy said gently. “Adam took him to football practice.”
Adam. Her husband. Still glowing from their honeymoon phase. They had gotten married three months ago after dating for over two years.
“Now do not change the subject,” she added. “Tell me what happened. I can hear it in your voice. It is cracking.”
I swallowed hard.
“Oh, Sissy. I saw him today.”
I told her everything. About the bakery. About Eva. About the moment Ashton walked in and looked at me like I did not belong there anymore. I told her how I ran the second Lynda appeared, how my legs carried me away before my heart could catch up.
“I’m starting to think coming back here was a huge mistake,” I whispered. “I just want it over so I can leave.”
“I’m so sorry you had to face all of that,” she said softly. “And you know I would hug you right now if I could. But Bailey, sooneror later you are going to have to face him. Who cares if they are together? You have Tristan. That is what matters.”
She was right.
“What am I doing, still pining over that bastard?” I scoffed bitterly. “He does not deserve my heartache. They can rot together.”
“That’s my Bailey,” she said warmly. “You are stronger than you think.”
A knock echoed through the cottage.
“Hey, Sis, can I call you back?” I asked, already standing.
“Of course,” she replied. “I will tell Tristan you called.”
When the line disconnected, I walked toward the door. Exhaustion weighed heavily in my bones, yet curiosity pushed me forward. I opened the door, and Eva stood there, smiling brightly, as if the day had not weighed on her at all.
“I hope I am not interrupting,” she said cheerfully. “You left so quickly earlier, so I thought I would bring this to you.”
She lifted a basket covered with a red and white checkered napkin. The warm, buttery scent told me exactly what was inside.
“How did you know where I was staying?” I asked, genuinely confused. “I mentioned renting a cottage, but I did not say which one.”
She stepped inside as if she belonged there, setting the basket on the table. She pulled plates from the cabinet and arranged them neatly.
“I asked around,” she said lightly. “You are the only outsider renting a cottage this month. We do not get many visitors.”
She sat and looked at me expectantly.
Too tired to argue, I joined her. My attention was immediately drawn to the pies.
“Try this one,” Eva said. “It is my own recipe. Marie loved it. One of our best sellers.”
