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My phone buzzes, rattling across the counter to my right and I glance over, my heart jumping into my throat.
Owen.
The music disappears beneath the pounding of my pulse as I stare at his name on the screen and my chest tightens. The smile melts off my face. His calls have slowed slightly over the last few days but the man just won’t give up. Every time that damn phone rings, it sets my teeth on edge. Sucking in a breath, I reach over and silence the call before slipping the phone into my back pocket.
No.
He doesn’t get to ruin this morning for me.
I take one more fortifying breath, my hands shaking ever so slightly, and turn back towards the display cases, scanning our stock of baked goods. The three trays of cinnamon rolls I whipped up this morning are almost gone. We’ve been wiped out of blueberry muffins so I will need to make some more of both of those before we open tomorrow. Grabbing a pen and notepad off the counter, I begin making a list and mentally preparing for tomorrow morning’s baking.
That’s one of my favorite times in this place - very early in the morning, before we’ve even opened, when it’s just me in the kitchen with my hands in dough and my apron coated in flour. The only other thing that is better is watching the customers enjoy them or rave about how it’s the best damn cinnamon roll they’ve ever had.
“Hey, Len,” someone calls and I glance up from my list, smiling at one of our regulars, Tony. “Need you to make me some more of those everything bagels. Can’t start my morning right without one.”
I laugh, nodding. “You got it, Tony. I wouldn’t want to throw off your morning.”
“You’re an angel.” He beams and I laugh again, shaking my head as I turn back to my list. Tony works construction and has been coming here ever since I started but his tastes have changed over that time. First, it was my poppyseed muffins, then it was the cinnamon rolls, after that he was stuck on the apple fritters for a while and lately, he gets an everything bagel with cream cheese every single morning. It’s one of those little routines I’ve come to appreciate so much and I would feel weird if I didn’t see Tony in here, grabbing his current favorite treat.
With my list and pen in hand, I go back into the kitchen to check our stock of ingredients. I handle all the ordering as well so we should be good but I’d hate to run into a problem at four in the morning when everything else is closed. The cinnamon and vanilla smell from my morning baking lingers in the air and I stop just inside the door, breathing it in for a moment. This is my real happy place. The one spot where I’m totally in my element, free to lose myself completely in something I love. For a long time, I thought Owen had taken this from me too. But it was just buried under layers of exhaustion and fear. Now, I get to uncover a little more of the woman I used to be every single morning.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and my heart jumps into my throat.
Owen.
It has to be.
My legs feel like jello and I reach out, gripping the stainless-steel prep table next to me for support.
No.
No.
No.
Just go away.
Please.
The buzzing stops and I release a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. The sounds of the dining room echo in my ears - the hiss of the espresso machine, dishes clinking, the mellow music floating in the background. I suck in a steadying breath and shake my head.
Enough.
He doesn’t get to do this to me anymore.
Reaching into my back pocket, I yank the phone out, gritting my teeth as heat surges through my veins, replacing the ice gripping my heart. Unlocking the device, I pause at the notification on my screen. My lungs remember how to work, air rushing past my lips as my shoulders droop.
Morgan.
My best friend.
Without a thought, I hit the button to call her back and press the phone to my ear. It barely rings before her cheery voice greets me.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my long-lost best friend.”
I laugh, rolling my eyes. “I called you back in like, three seconds, chill.”
“Three of the longest seconds of my life,” she wails with all the devotion of a seasoned actress and I laugh again as I set my notepad and pen down on the prep table.
