She’d needed that when she was younger. She needed it less now, though, if she were honest. Their relationship had become lopsided. Her doing all this work, even while she’dgrown in her own security and didn’t rely on him for every piece of her self-esteem.
He hadn’t grown, not at the same rate. The bar had highlighted a lot of their issues and disparities. Had fed into her doing all the organization while he’d been doing all the showmanship in the bar.
Because of him, they’d established a pattern of moving to new places when things felt stale, which was why she’d looked at the job in Oregon. She’d thought it might make things happy again.
Not because of her own adventurous nature, which was historically nonexistent. Given that, she supposed, she didn’t really have to worry that she would suddenly do something wildly impulsive.
It wasn’t in her repertoire.
But she did spritz a little perfume on before heading back down to the lobby to wait for Cara.
The walk to the bakery was beautiful, the path that had been made between the hotel and that building was lovely. Lined with flowers and padded with thick bark.
She could easily imagine taking her first cup of coffee down this trail, going to the bakery, getting a second cup of coffee, and one of Cara’s amazing pastries.
She imagined that every guest would be happy with that.
By the time she got there, Cara’s car was already there, along with a truck she didn’t recognize.
Cody wasn’t there yet. She felt a strange, sinking sensation in her stomach, and she told herself she was being ridiculous to be disappointed that she didn’t get to see him immediately.
Maybe because part of her knew that if she didn’t catch some kind of momentum with the feelings inside of her, she would never follow through with them.
You’re supposed to be glad that you wouldn’t follow through with them.
Oh right. Therewas that.
But it was difficult to remember.
Especially when she thought of him, and her heart started to beat faster.
She cleared her throat, the grounding sensation bringing her back to the present as she walked up to the cute little bakery and pushed the door open.
Cara was standing inside, mute, staring at…
Oh.
There was a man standing at the center of the room, taking measurements. His back was broad, like the side of a mountain. He was… Huge. He turned sharply when the door opened, and his eyes met hers.
“Hi,” he said, his voice flat. The greeting was perfunctory. Like he had given it only because he knew that he was supposed to.
He must be Zane.
“He’s making shelves,” Cara said, sounding almost dazed. “He has tools around back.”
“Oh. Right. I’m Marlowe,” she said, to the broad uncompromising back.
“Zane,” he grunted back, confirming her assumptions.
“Nice to meet you.”
He didn’t respond then. Unless the single, short laugh was a response. How was she to know?
“The place is really coming along nicely,” she said.
“I don’t need to make small talk,” he said. “Whatever you were going to do, feel free to do it. Act like I’m not here.”
It wasn’t the kind of friendly offer that usually came with that sentence. No. It was a command. Act like he wasn’t there so that he didn’t have to talk to them.
