She turned off the faucet and dried her hands on a towel.
The most humiliating part of the conversation had been explaining how James had painted himself as the desperately worried, heartbroken husband. He had made Olivia sound wildly emotional, unstable, and easily manipulated. He had framed Leo as a predatory outside force tearing apart their marriage, conveniently ignoring the fact that James had destroyed the marriage long before Olivia ever knocked on Leo’s front door.
Her parents had been livid. Her father had paced the living room, declaring that James was doing exactly what guilty men always do when the truth makes them look indefensible: they attack the person holding the proof.
Karen had been terribly hurt that Olivia felt she had to protect them while they were away.
"I didn't want to ruin the trip, Mom," Olivia had explained, her voice cracking. "It was your dream. I wanted you to have it."
Her mother had cupped her face, her eyes shining with tears. "Olivia, no trip on this earth matters more than you."
The memory brought a fresh lump to Olivia’s throat. She swallowed hard, picking up the dry mug and placing it in the cupboard.
As she closed the cabinet door, her mind drifted back to the day she left Leo’s house.
***
The day after the kiss, they had finally talked. The anticipation had been tearing Olivia apart all morning, gnawing at the edges of her already frayed nerves. When they sat down in the living room, the space felt overwhelmingly large. The conversation that followed was agonizingly awkward, deeply painful, and fiercely honest.
Leo looked at her, his blue eyes fixed on hers, refusing to look away. "I don't regret kissing you, Olivia," he said, his voice carrying a raspy edge of conviction. "I can't pretend I do. It is something I have wanted to do for a very long time."
He ran a hand through his hair, looking incredibly frustrated with himself. "But I regret doing it yesterday. It was incredibly unfair of me to drop years of suppressed feelings on your shoulders while you are already drowning in this nightmare of betrayal, legal threats, and grief. The kiss was my mistake. The timing was terrible. But the feeling behind it? I won't apologize for that."
Olivia wrapped her arms around her own torso, trying desperately to hold herself together. "You don't need to apologize, Leo," she replied, her throat tight with unshed tears. "Please don't."
She looked down at her trembling hands, unable to meet his intense gaze anymore. "I didn't pull away because I hated it," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, shaking with the sheer force of the truth. "I pulled away because everything inside me is already broken. My whole lifeis in pieces, and I don't know what to think anymore. I don't know how to trust my own reactions."
She could not possibly make sense of Leo’s confession, or her own terrifying, undeniable response to his kiss, while the rest of her life was still burning to the ground. It was simply too much pain to process.
Leo nodded, his expression softening into something so tender it made her chest physically ache. He closed the distance just enough to be near, but far enough to respect her boundaries.
"Then don't think about it," he urged gently, keeping his hands carefully in his pockets. "You don't have to figure this out right now, Olivia. We can put it in a box, close the lid, and leave it for later. Whenever you are ready. Or even if you are never ready."
That reassurance mattered to Olivia more than he could possibly comprehend. James had always pressed and pushed, demanding answers and forcing compliance until she doubted her own mind. Leo, instead, had offered her a refuge—a place to put the question down without any conditions or expectations.
The tension gave way to grief a week later, when her parents arrived to pick her up. The reality of leaving hit her hard. Leo carried her suitcase out to their car, his jaw tight and his expression guarded. The suitcase was full of new clothes she and Brooklyn had bought a few days earlier, simply because Olivia could not keep living out of the small duffel bag she had packed the night her life fell apart. Every new shirt felt like a glaring reminder that she could not go back to her old life.
The goodbye felt agonizing and strange. They stood by the open car door, an ocean of unsaid words resting inthe space separating them. Leo looked deeply sad and visibly apprehensive, his eyes tracing the lines of her tired face.
"Call me when you get there?" he asked, his tone rough with barely concealed worry.
"I will," she promised, her voice cracking on the syllables.
He watched her get into the car with an intensity that made it seem as if she were moving across the world, instead of just going to a rented house less than three hours away. That intense, focused gaze unsettled her, flooding her system with adrenaline, especially after the kiss. But as her father pulled the car out of the driveway, she looked back to see Leo still standing by the curb watching them go, and it made her feel cherished and cared for in a way she was deeply terrified to name.
***
Now, living with her parents felt strange too. It was comforting—Karen made sure she ate three meals a day, and Robert kept asking practical questions about changing locks, consulting lawyers, and whether she needed him to drive her anywhere. But Olivia knew this wasn't permanent. Soon, her parents would have to return to Hendersonville and their own lives.
And tomorrow, Olivia had to return to the bakery.
The thought made her heart race, a frantic, panicked fluttering against her ribs.
It had been a month since she had stepped foot inside her own business. Only last week had she finally spoken to her team over the phone, giving Maria strict instructions for the upcoming orders. Maria had been running things beautifully, but Olivia knew she could not stay away forever.
She wasn't terrified because she didn't love the bakery. She was terrified precisely because she did love it. That placewas a piece of her soul, and she was desperately afraid she would walk through the doors and realize James had managed to taint that, too.
The doorbell rang, pulling her from her thoughts.
