I do not know her voice. I look up and see a woman leaning against the brick façade, as if she owns it. Perfect hair. Perfect coat. Perfect smile that does not quite reach her eyes. She looks like she stepped out of a brand campaign for Effortless Woman Who Never Works Before Noon.
She looks me up and down. Slowly. Deliberately.
“Oh,” she says, lips pursed. “This is it? This is the bakery?”
I do not answer. I take a step to go around her. She sidesteps, too.
“Oh, come on,” she says lightly. “I just wanted to see where Leo’s been disappearing to every morning. I mean…” Her eyes flick to my chest. My stomach. My hips. “I guess it makes sense. He’s always had a thing for projects.”
Something hot and ugly flares behind my ribs.
“Please move,” I say.
She laughs. A small, tinkly sound. “Sensitive. Is that why he hasn’t been answering my calls? Because you’re what, baking him into submission?”
I clench my jaw so hard it aches.
“I don’t know who you are or what your problem is,” I say, “but you need to leave.”
“Oh, relax,” she says, holding up her hands. “I’m not here to cause trouble. I just thought I would check in. He and I have history.”
She steps closer.
Too close.
“I mean,” she adds, tilting her head, faux sympathetic, “I heard he’s really into self-improvement lately. Slumming it. Getting his hands dirty. Maybe this is his Eat Pray Love phase.” Her eyes dip again. “And hey,” she says sweetly, “good for you. Truly. Running a business like this? That’s impressive. Even if…” She gestures vaguely at my body. “It looks like it’s been a rough few years.”
There it is.
The punch, clean and precise.
I feel it land. Feel my chest tighten, my face burn. I am suddenly hyper aware of my jeans digging into my waist, of the softness I have been pretending not to notice, of the way my body has changed while my life stayed hard and hungry and relentless.
I open my mouth.
Nothing comes out.
The woman smiles wider, clearly pleased. “I’m just saying, Leo usually goes for a different aesthetic. But hey. People change.”
Behind her, through the big front window, I see movement.
Leo.
He is at the counter, but his head snaps up. His eyes lock on us. On her. On me.
He is out the door in seconds.
“Hey,” he says sharply. Not to me. To her.
The woman turns, surprise flashing across her face before she smooths it into delight. “Leo. There you are. I was just…”
“Marissa, what are you doing here?” His voice is calm, but there is steel under it. I have never heard him sound like this.
She laughs. “Wow. No hello? I was just checking out the place you have been obsessing over. Meeting the…” She gestures at me again. “Staff.”
“Don’t,” he says.
She blinks. “Don’t what?”
