She stopped, trying to decide whether to turn around. He jogged down the cobblestone street behind her, then came around her to face her when she refused to look at him.
“That stove I ordered, it’s ‘lectric,” he said. “I had one back in the city. They can bake a bit unevenly, but it’s easier to control the heat in them. Perfect for tricky things like cheesecakes.”
What was the point of telling her that? “That’s nice,” she said, although her face said quite the opposite.
Julian stiffened. “I thought I’d give you fair warning. Now that the ‘lectrics are being installed, I’m sure you’ll be doing the same soon enough.”
“We will,” said Charlotte, although she didn’t actually know if Mrs. Knox had ordered a stove or planned to do so anytime soon. The ‘lectrics hadn’t been installed yet on their side of the street.
“Good,” said Julian.
“Is that all?” It definitely was not all Charlotte wanted to say, so she doubted it was all Julian wanted to say. Standing here in the street with him, she could so easily forget the decades that had come between them. She wanted to ask him if he would race her to the inn, if he would come with her to the stone circle by Alison’s cottage to watch for falling stars, if he would help her play a prank on Keir.
But even if time apart had meant nothing, this rivalry wasn’t so easily put aside, especially when it seemed nothing had changed. He would not bend.
He had said nothing, but Charlotte was sick of waiting. She sighed and moved past him.
“Wait,” said Julian, grabbing her arm.
The gesture wasn’t forceful, but it shocked Charlotte. “What are you doing?”
“Sorry,” said Julian, quickly letting her go. “Sorry, that was too familiar. For a minute, I felt like we were children again. I’m sorry. I know we aren’t.”
Charlotte looked at the ground, trying not to think of the thrill that went through her at his touch. “What did you want to say?”
“I don’t know,” said Julian, holding his head in his hand and looking up at the sky. “I just. Gods, I don’t know, Charlotte. I don’t want it to be like this.”
“It doesn’t have to be!” said Charlotte. “You’re making a choice. You could choose to trust me instead. We could help you. We could work together—”
“I can’t. I want to believe you, but I have too much to lose. I worked so hard to build this for myself. I can’t let it go, not without—”
“I’m not asking you to let it go. We could work something out. Make a list of what you bake and what we bake. Or a schedule. Something to stop this pointless competition. Don’t you see how that would be better for you too? It’s not a zero-sum game. If we win, you don’t have to lose. We can both win.” Charlotte sighed again; she couldn’t let it go unsaid any longer. “I don’t want to be your enemy. Julian, I…I missed you.”
Julian leaned forward suddenly and pulled her to him, kissing her on the lips.
Before she could even react, he pulled away. “Gods, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
This time, it was Charlotte who called for him as he hurried away. “Wait!”
But Julian kept going, leaving Charlotte standing there alone.
Gods, what the hells wasthat?
It was difficult to focus on her work at the bakery after what had happened with Julian, but it wasn’t a good week to be distracted: it was the week of Keir and Alison’s wedding.
Charlotte made a note to berate Keir for his decision to get married during the celebration of Lupercalia, the busiest time of the year for the bakery apart from Winter Solstice. She and Mrs. Knox had been working around the clock to put together boxes of truffles and macarons and other sweet treats for the villagers, leaving them little time to practice and perfect the wedding cakes.
But the worst was yet to come.
“Mrs. Knox. Mrs. Knox!” Someone was banging on the door to the bakery more than an hour before opening.
Mrs. Knox was up to her elbows in bread dough, leaving Charlotte to see what was going on.
It was the postman. “Urgent pigeon arrived for Mrs. Moira Knox,” he said, placed a letter in her hand. “Will you see that she gets it?”
“Of course,” said Charlotte.
Charlotte carried the letter to the back, regarding it nervously.
