"I'll keep that in mind," I said, my voice flat.
She gave me one last once-over, her gaze lingering on my thrift store bag and drugstore cardigan, before linking her arm through Colin's.
"Well, I should get going. Lunch reservations, you know." She flashed her Chanel bag like a badge of honor. "But think about the gala, okay? Aunt Amelia really wants you there."
I bet she does, I simply nodded.
They swept out of the library, Lila's heels clicking against the floor, and I stood there for a long moment, my hands shaking.
Slowly, I sucked air into my lungs making myself breath fighting down the urge to scream.
Lila had a way of making me feel so small and unworthy that it wasn't funny.
My mother had sent her. Sent Lila, of all people, to convince me to go to some royal gala where I'd be paraded around like a charity case.
Like I needed saving.
By the time my shift ended, I was exhausted.
Emotionally and physically exhausted to the point that I needed a pick me up.
I grabbed my bag and headed back to The Ember & Crumb. I told myself it was because I needed an evening coffee. Not because I wanted to see Kael again.
The shop was quieter now, just a few people scattered at the small tables. Kael was wiping down the counter, his movementsslow and methodical. He looked up when I walked in and his expression shifted immediately.
"Rough day?" he asked sounding concerned.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
He didn't say anything else. Just disappeared into the back and returned a moment later with a cinnamon nest bun on a small plate.
"On the house," he said.
"Kael, you can't keep giving me free pastries."
"I can do whatever I want," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "It's my bakery."
I took the plate, my throat tight.
"Thank you," I whispered.
He smiled. "Anytime."
And for the first time all day, my shoulders dropped away from my ears.
Later that night, I curled up in my apartment where the radiator clanked and the neighbor's TV murmured through the wall. I tried to focus on my book, but the pages blurred. Instead, I found myself tracing the rim of my empty mug, still faintly smelling of cinnamon and cloves. I closed my eyes and saw Kael's hands, flour under his nails, a small burn mark on his thumb as he was sliding that pastry across the counter. The memory of smoky vanilla lingered in my hair, wrapping around me like the fuzzy blanket I'd pulled to my chin.
Stop it,I told myself.You're going to get hurt.
But a small, hopeful part of me whispered back.
What if you don't? What if this time is different?
I pulled the blanket tighter and tried to ignore the way my heart ached. Tried to ignore the way I could still smell warm sugar and smoky vanilla on my clothes.
Tried to ignore the fact that I was already halfway in love with a man who probably didn't even know my last name.
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