“I know it appears that way,” she says calmly. “And I also know it isn’t as black and white as that.”
The thought that she’s right scares me.
She reaches across the counter and covers my hand with hers, her grip grounding. “People make mistakes when they’re used to winning. Doesn’t mean they’re incapable of doing the right thing when it matters.”
I swallow. “You’re telling me to forgive him.” My voice rises in surprise.
“I’m telling you I don’t blame him,” she replies.
My eyes burn, with a tear forming because I can’t hold it in any longer. “You didn’t have to take me in,” I say quietly. “You could’ve said no.”
Her grip tightens a little. “But I didn’t.”
“And sometimes it feels like I owe you,” I admit as the words rush out. “Protecting this place. Protecting you. If I let Julian be part of my life—really part of it—it feels like I’m a traitor for being with someone connected to this all.”
Aunt Bea studies me for a long moment. “Oh, Savannah, I would never think that. I also believe that you’re afraid of loving someone new.” She sighs. “Perhaps you’re afraid that it will feel like you’re abandoning me. But do you know why that is?”
I shake my head in loss, and she squeezes my hand. “You’re allowed to have more than one family. Having a future with him, well, somewhere in the back of your mind, you are aware that you could be creating a small one with him. With kids or no kids, but he would be your family if you two are serious.”
The word family echoes in my chest, and for once, it’s terrifying. Julian’s world has always been different. Big, flashy, and a family background that many would consider cold and stale. It’s not that I’m afraid of any of that. It’s more,I’m scared he will break my heart when it already feels like I’m abandoning my aunt.
“Everything inside of me aches,” I admit.
“You just need to wrap your head around a few things.”
Sadly, I attempt to smile. “When I started working for him, he looked at me as though I was replaceable. No different from the others. Now? He looks at me like I’mirreplaceable.”
“That’s a perfect sign that his intentions are true.”
I nod slowly, holding onto her hand like an anchor, even as part of me knows I won’t always need her to be one because there is someone else who might fill the role.
Truthfully,I’m aware that my smile appears forced. Still, I do my best to put on a brave face as I walk slowly along the tables of pie under the white tents. The last place that I want to be is judging a pie competition with a crown on my head.Alas, a commitment is a commitment, at least in this situation. When it comes to relationships, I’m not sure where I stand. Everything I imagined has come undone. You’re supposed to stay together through thick and thin, but here I am with a hollow heart that might break into a thousand pieces at any moment.
The lady of retirement age looks at me with bright eyes as I approach her table filled with lemon meringue pie.
“Not too tart or sweet,” she says and hands me a fork.
“Similar to people,” I say mundanely because it’s a reminder of Julian’s personality that drew me to him until I was so glued that I really did have to be ripped away when everything imploded. I shake my head to remind myself that now isn’t about my sorrows. “I mean, a good balance.”
Gladly, I accept the fork and dig into the piece that she cut. It does feel awkward when everyone around me watches as I taste.The instant zing that hits my taste buds is a pleasant kick that brings my focus to the moment. “Mmm, that is good. The graham cracker crust is a nice complement to the taste. Better than a normal pie crust.”
She brings her hand to her heart, covered in an apron. “I do think so myself. And lemon meringue is by far better than an easy blueberry pie.” She scowls at the next stall and returns her gaze to me with a bright smile.
“We shall see.” I begin to stroll to the next and find myself in front of a neighbor from my street. Esme is a little older than Julian and is by no means a professional baker, but she hands out homemade pies on Everhope Road to everybody’s delight.
“A classic blueberry pie. Simple yet pronounced. Even picked the berries myself,” she proudly explains.
“I hope they’re not poisonous,” I joke, and she chuckles as she hands me a piece of her pie and a fork. I’m not sure how much more I can do of this. One bite of eight different pies is going to kill me on the sugar front. Then again, it’s all comfort food, right?The taste of her pie hits right. It would go perfectly with whipped cream, but the competition rules state that only the pie is allowed on the plate. “Yum. It’s fresh.”
“I did my best, considering I have whining children at home and a husband whom I could throttle daily.” She smiles while she holds her palm up. “Lovingly, of course.”
I inhale a deep breath and feel the fragility in me retaking the stage inside me.Bickering can be fun. Or was it always a sign?
“Still, you managed to make a pie.”
She’s in a good mood. I don’t think she’s taking the competition all too seriously, or rather, just having fun.
“Savannah.” Julian’s voice flips all of my feelings inside of me. My focus is lost as I accept that he’s here. But I don’t turn around; instead, I stand, staring at the pie, feeling motionless because my entire body is tight with tension. I don’t even say a word. The air feels sucked out of my surroundings.
