“You seem to forget that you are the one who got me kicked off the show. Guess we’ll never know if a small-town baker like myself could have made it.”
“If they’d wanted to keep you on, they would have. Don’t you think it’s weird that Grayson still has his job? He didn’t even get a slap on the wrist. And I should know because I’m with him every day.”
I tried hard not to let her get to me, but her words stung. She was right. Grayson didn’t get any blowback from being with me. And I knew they still worked together. I should have never come to LA.
“Congratulations. You win.”
The words didn’t want to come out, but I forced them anyway. There was no point continuing this. I knew what I’d gotten myself into, and now I was the one who had to step back and do the one thing I swore I’d never do again. Walk away.
Leaving a gloating Wynona was hard, but the next part would be even harder. I went to the bathroom, splashed water on my face, and took deep breaths to keep the tears at bay. After successfully pulling myself back together, I stepped out of the bathroom.
Grayson was leaning against the wall opposite the door, a deep scowl on his face. His expression changed to one of worry when he saw me, and he rushed over. “Are you okay? Wynona said you didn’t feel well.”
At the mention of the one who’d caused all this, my vision wavered. “Wynona. Of course. What exactlyisyour relationship with her?”
He looked embarrassed, and I stepped back, putting some much-needed distance between us. “Whatever I’ll make up in my head about you two is likely going to be so much worse than the truth.”
Our eyes locked, his flickering with regret and mine most likely with resignation. “We were never officially together. But we had an arrangement for the last few years.”
I closed my eyes, wishing we could go back to a few hours ago, where all that mattered was that we were together.
“But I ended it after I saw you at dinner the first time,” he rushed to reassure me. When I opened my eyes again, he was no longer regretful but desperate.
I knew I didn’t have a right to be upset about something that had happened before we got together, but I’d always been irrational when it came to Grayson. And Wynona was such a sad excuse for a human being; it disappointed me he’d chosen her. “You didn’t look like you were broken up. And she said you ended it with her a few times. What’s not to say you’ll go back to your arrangement once I’m gone?”
A thought hit me, making me stumble back. “Have you gone back to your agreement already?”
He recoiled at my suggestion. “Of course not. Why would you even think that?”
The sudden need to get out of the oppressive room was all I could think about. “I need to go. I need time to think.”
I rushed outside, ignoring Grayson’s calls for me to stop. Luck was on my side, and I flagged down a taxi. It took me back to his house, and I wasted no time getting my keys that I’d thrown carelessly on the table next to his front entrance.
My bags were still in the car, so all I had to do was get in and drive away.
I made it to Vegas before the rational part of my brain turned back on and I booked a flight to Denver.
Eighteen
“Either pick up the phone or put it on silent. But if it rings one more time, I’m going to drown it in batter,” Willa threatened, glaring at my phone sitting on the shelf above our workstation.
Grayson had called me countless times and sent even more text messages since I left LA four days ago.
But I still didn’t trust my feelings. I was most likely overthinking everything. But doubt had sunk its claws into me and wouldn’t let go.
Maybe this was for the best. We were living different lives, and I’d realized that I loved my little town and didn’t want to leave.
My phone rang again, and a glance at the display showed it was Grayson. My fingers twitched with the urge to pick it up. But the more I thought about us, the more I was convinced we weren’t right for each other.
My mind was driving me crazy, going around in circles. I hadn’t gotten more than a few hours of sleep each night since driving away from the one man I’d ever loved.
“For the love of cupcakes, can you please stop playing ‘I Will Always Love You’? I adore Whitney Houston, but we’ve been listening to her songs nonstop for days. My ears are bleeding.” Willa held her hands over said ears, and I reluctantly changed the playlist to something a little more upbeat.
I glared at her. “You’re heartless.”
She returned my glare and topped it off with a middle finger. “And you’re ridiculous.”
Outraged, I put my hands on my hips. “Excuse me?”
