“Oh. My. God. My baby is growing up,” Serena cries out as she lunges over to hug Paige.
I sit back and sip my wine, smiling at my friends going through Paige’s wild questions. I don’t regret not reading the book, how could I when my time was much better spent loving Jackson. But I have to admit, some of the scenes they’re discussing sound….intriguing. I make a mental note to skim the book later to see if I get any inspiration for Jackson and I. Not that we need any help in the bedroom, good lord, no. But still, it could be interesting.
Opening day is here. The bakery is humming along with its usual steady stream of business, and I’m bouncing back and forth between the kitchen of the bakery and the front of the café. Hiring an entire team, including kitchen staff, to run the café was a smart choice. Baking is my passion, and if I had to spend my time in the kitchen of the café making sandwiches and soups, I’d go crazy. But today, I’m here — making sure it all runs smoothly, the food is perfect, and everyone is happy.
So far, so good.
Ethan and Summer were lucky enough to taste test with me when we were interviewing head chefs. Their moans of approval told me we made the right choice with Donna. She’s a dynamo and is keeping everything in check.
There’s just one thing left to do, and I need my brother here for it. When he and Summer arrive in the early afternoon, the crowd has slightly died down, even though there’s still a lineup.
“Okay Mills, whatcha got?”
Summer smacks my brother lightly. “What Ethan means to say is, we’re both so proud of you. This place is incredible and I just know your mom would love it.”
I hug the woman I love like a sister. She knew my mom well, so for her to say that means a lot. “Thanks, Summer. I wanted you two to be the first ones to see the window art.” I lead them out to the front of the café, where the window has been covered on both sides with paper. One of the waitresses is inside, ready to peel off the inner layer, revealing what is underneath.
“I know I said I was just going to keep The Nutty Muffin as the name for both places, but I decided not to do that. The café needs a name of its own, and I wanted to surprise you with it.” I peel off the paper to reveal the name written across the window: Camille’s.
“You named it after Mom.” Ethan’s voice is thick with emotion, and when I look at my older brother, I see tears pooling in his eyes. Summer’s no different, except the tears are already falling. And just like that, I know I made the right decision.
I thought life couldn’t get any better, but I was wrong. Everything feels perfect.
Chapter 22
Jackson
Envelopes are a thing for Mila and I now. It started with my offer from Phil to purchase half of the clinic. Then there was the weekend getaway I surprised her with. Then, on my birthday, she handed me an envelope that held the coveted bran muffin recipe inside.
I laughed when I opened it, and said it was pointless since I have her to make them for me. She didn’t like that answer, but the make-up sex after was worth it.
Today I’m on my way to her house with another envelope. One that I’m hoping is the next step in the right direction for us. The letter is a fake notice to terminate my rental agreement. If she agrees for us to move in together, I’ll go to Ethan and officially end my rental, since Mila wants to stay out of that situation. I get it, it’s a little weird to have my girlfriend as my landlord. Easier to just think of Ethan that way. And I know we’ve only been officially together for a few weeks, so maybe moving in together now is moving fast, but to the rest of the world — and to my heart, it’s been much longer. And I’m ready for this.
I decide to pop into the Grab N’ Go grocery store to pick up some flowers. I’ve noticed how Mila always admires fresh flowers, but she never has them at home. She claims she works too much and isn’t home enough to enjoy them. But hopefully the gesture and the sentiment are appreciated. And if not, she can always take them into the bakery.
When I’m walking to the front to check out, I suddenly hear her voice and I freeze, not wanting to be seen by her yet. I feel a little foolish, and my free hand comes up to rub the back of my neck. Thank God there’s no one else here to see me being so ridiculous. Romantic things don’t come naturally to me, or at least they didn’t before now. There’s something about her that makes me a lot more sentimental.
Of course, before I know it, I’ve inched my way to the front of the aisle just to see and hear her better. Every fiber of me wants to touch her; my soul craves her always. Her back is to me, and I’m about to say fuck it and just go to her when I hear what she’s saying.
“…just so excited. I honestly never thought the day would come. It’s going to be such a great surprise!” Her voice is full of happiness and I feel it building in me. Looks like I wasn’t the only one planning a romantic surprise. But that happiness comes crashing down around me when I catch a glimpse of what she’s handing the cashier.
A box of pregnancy tests.
My heart stops beating.
I stop breathing.
And when I do eventually draw in a breath, it’s ragged and full of disbelief.
Anger wars with anguish inside of me and I honestly don’t know which will win. I do know I need to get out of here, and fast. I drop the flowers on a shelf beside me and walk to the exit. The cashier, whose name I should probably know by now but can’t think of in this moment, doesn’t see me, she’s too busy with another customer. Probably talking about Mila’s big surprise.
Thank fuck this town is small enough that my house isn’t too far away. I manage not to run into anyone on my way, which is a good thing because there is no fucking way I can make neighbourly small talk right now. But walking inside only makes me clench my jaw even tighter. Signs of Mila are everywhere. Her shoes are by the door, a throw blanket she decided I needed is on the couch, and memories of us infuse every inch. My chest tightens. The walls start to close in on me. I go to the back deck, but it’s no better. We’ve talked about our pasts and our future on these chairs. We’ve kissed, and fucked, and loved our way around this entire property. There’s no where I can go that doesn’t remind me of her.
What is it about me that says, lie to me?
That fucking cliché repeats in my head. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
All those times we talked about our future, she made me trust her. I believed her when she said she didn’t want kids, that she was happy focusing on her career and supporting me with mine. We talked about where we wanted to travel. We talked about how I would eventually take over the entire vet practice from Phil. We talked about her plans for the bakery and the café.
