“That’s what I’ve been wanting to say to her.” Her soft laugh ended on an even softer sigh. “So we’ll see how it goes when we talk.”
“Say the word and I’ll bake all her favorite desserts for you to give her. If she’s anything like you, the way to her heart is through her stomach.”
“Damn straight,” Gina said. Then the bell above the door jangled, and she pulled away. “Expecting anyone?”
“No. You?”
She shook her head, and he tried to quash the flutter of hope in his chest. What if it was Josie, here to apologize? Or to let him apologize. He wasn’t sure which was more necessary, but at this point he’d be willing to try either one if only to ease the pain in his heart at the thought of never seeing her again.
Yet when he walked into the front of the shop, he found a dark-haired woman where he was hoping to find a flame-haired one.
“Hey!” Lily crossed to the center display case with a vase of purple tulips in one hand and a large cardboard box tucked under her arm. “I wanted to drop by with good wishes for tomorrow. Sorry I can’t make it; the Cubs are in town, and going to the games keeps the spark alive in my marriage.”
Erik wasn’t too keen on pondering someone else’s happy relationship at the moment, but he was touched by her thoughtfulness. “Thanks.” He accepted the flowers and set them next to the cash register.
“No pollen, no scent,” she said, pushing her dark, shaggy hair behind her ear. “And this was on your front step.” He stepped out from behind the counter to accept the long, flat box while Lily turned in a circle to take in what he’d accomplished with help from his friends. Well, his ex-girlfriend and her friends. The pain intensified.
“Great floor.” She ran a battered sneaker along the mellow gleam of the refinished wood. “Did Josie help pick out the wall color? And is she here? I was hoping to say hi.”
The pain turned into a wave of bleak despair that threatened to pull him under, and all he could manage was a short “No.”
Lily’s smile vanished. “Oh, I’m sorry. That sucks. You two were cute together.”
He forced himself to hold still while she patted his arm in sympathy.
“But hey,” she continued, “at least she helped free you from Dora. Oooh, do you think the old bat’ll swing by to wish her favorite former employee good luck?”
“If Dora walks through my door, I’m torching the place and starting over.”
Lily snorted, then cocked her head. “Josie made you funnier, you know.”
“I’m sure it’ll pass.” That prompted another burst of laughter, followed by a flower-scented hug.
“I’ve got a few more deliveries yet, so I need to run. Good luck tomorrow!”
With a last squeeze, she slid out the door, and Erik turned over the package she’d handed him as he walked behind the counter to grab a knife. He didn’t recognize the return address, and when he slit open the tape, he discovered a dozen oversized black-and-white photos packed inside. He picked them up, being careful not to smudge the glossy surfaces, and flipped through the high-contrast shots of the tools of his trade. A pastry bag on its side. A spray of flour across a countertop. A cake mid-icing. The images emerged from the soft-focused background to glow as if they were lit from within. These weren’t photos; these were art.
“Oh cool.” Gina emerged from the back and peered over his shoulder. “Where’d those come from?”
Josie. It had to be. Who else would’ve captured his livelihood with such care? “Her special project. She must’ve ordered these before…” Regret locked up his vocal cords, and Gina rubbed a soothing circle on his back in a gesture similar to Lily’s. Since when did a breakup give the women of the world the right to maul him with their sympathetic touches? It just reminded him of the woman whose touch he missed every day.
“Shame not to display them,” she said. “They’d look great framed and hung up.”
She pointed to the yellow walls flanking the dine-in area, and damn, but she was right. The stark images would stand out against the bright backdrop. Was that what Josie had intended? His fingers twitched to text her—hell, tocallher—and ask. But he stopped himself. What they’d said to each other had felt pretty fucking final, and making it through tomorrow’s event would be hard enough even without official confirmation that his stolen time with her had truly ended.
He again pictured her laughing with the guy in the suit at the TV station on Tuesday. Yet more proof that he wasn’t the man for her in the long run. But he’d accept this gift from her, this precious glimpse of her talent. And he’d hang them in the business she helped create. His heart might crack every time he looked at them, but they’d also remind him of the woman he loved but hadn’t been able to keep.
Thirty-Two
Josie heard her apartment doorknob rattle but couldn’t muster the strength to pull herself up from her sprawl on the couch to see if it was a friend or a serial killer. Honestly, either would be fine.
“’Sup?” She flopped her arm over the back of the sofa in a half-hearted wave. “If you’re a stranger here to kill me, make it quick.”
“’Sup?” came Richard’s amused voice. “That’s how you greet possible murderers?”
“Yes.” Gravity pulled her arm down, and she tucked it back under her cheek and resumed staring into the middle distance. “I welcome death.”
“Oh geez.” He moved around the couch and surveyed the scene in front of him with a wrinkled nose. “What’s happening here?”
