“I’ve never been so tired in my entire life,” I said, plopping my bottom onto a stool in the bakery kitchen. Brielle had just driven away in the delivery van with a Bar Mitzvah cake while Jazz and I cleaned up.
“I’m pretty beat, too,” Jazz admitted.
We were one week out from Imogene’s wedding, and despite all my organizational skills and the extra few hands we’d employed, I still felt like I was falling behind. We’d gotten so much new business it was hard to keep up.
Slash was still gone, and even though I was working every hour of the day from waking up until I went to sleep at night, I managed to miss him. I missed his smile, his humor, his pensive gaze when he was thinking about something that he didn’t always share with me. I missed his arms around me, his legs tangled with mine, his hot lips on my skin.
I was fully addicted to him and how he made me feel.
When we spoke, it was brief. Just a checking in, a ‘miss you’, a ‘love you’.
My phone chimed.
I looked at my screen and saw Slash’s name.
I can’t wait to be inside you.
I sighed.
“Most women make that noise as they’re eating a bite of chocolate lava cake,” Jazz said with a grin. “But I’m guessing it was Slash saying something dirty?”
“Fairly dirty, I guess.” I set my phone aside.
“When does he get home?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Well, thank God we don’t have anything scheduled. I plan on sleeping the entire day.”
I had plans that involved a bed, but Slash and I wouldn’t be doing any sleeping.
“I have, like, zero food in my house,” Jazz said. “I need to go grocery shopping. Or I could just order takeout again and go grocery shopping tomorrow.”
“I support that decision,” I said.
The only reason I’d been eating healthy was because Darcy, Mia and Allison had been delivering slow cooker meals and sticking them in my fridge while I was out of the house. Their generosity had tears rushing to my eyes. They really did look out for their own, and their actions proved I was one of them.
Jazz stifled a yawn. “You know when you get to that point that not even caffeine prevents you from falling asleep?”
“I remember those days well,” I said. “I call them my madness and mayhem days when I lived in Manhattan.”
“Do you miss the city?”
“Nah,” I said. “It was exciting for a while, I guess. But I worked all the time. It wasn’t like I was going out and listening to jazz or attending Broadway shows.”
“You still work all the time. What’s different now?”
I chuckled. “Now I own the business.”
“Ah. Valid point. It’s going well with Brielle, isn’t it?”
“So well,” I said. “I’m kind of surprised. We all just…flow.”
“Well, it makes sense. You’re the one with the actual baking skill and creativity, and we can help you in other ways. We’re not going to try and tell you how to do that part of it, you know?”
“It is all working, isn’t it?” I asked.
“Yup.”
Part of me was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe that shoe was Kurt Antol. Maybe it was my relationship. It was going too well. Despite the tumult of the last few months, everything was calm.
For the moment.
I wasn’t sure I knew how to let things be. To believe they’d stay good or easy. I’d been taught that you had to work hard with your nose to the grindstone and put in more time; be better—all those sayings you’d find on bumper stickers or T-shirts.
“Eddie’s coming in tomorrow to make the vanilla wafers for the banana pudding,” Jazz reminded me.
“Excellent. We’re right on schedule. All the shelf stable ingredients will be made a few days ahead of time, and then we’ll combine everything and bake right before the wedding.”
Duke was outside on his bike. Because of the crazy hours we were working, Duke, Savage and Acid had been on rotation, sharing the burden of watching us.
I locked up the bakery with Jazz next to me. Brielle would drop off the van in front of my house and then have Virgil swing by and get her.
“We really need to figure out a better plan than parking the van somewhere other than the bakery every day,” I said.
“Yeah, well, until Kurt is totally out of our lives for good, then it’s a bad idea to leave the van a sitting duck.”
“Who’s Kurt?” Duke called out.
“Shit,” Jazz muttered. “I forgot he was here. I’m so tired.”
“Come up with something, and do it fast,” I muttered.
“Kurt’s my ex,” Jazz lied. “Dated for a few weeks—wasn’t serious. He wanted it to be more serious and he comes around every now and again.”
Duke frowned. “He’s bothering you?”
“No.” Jazz bit her lip, realizing she was speaking to a protective man. “He’s just hoping I’ll give him another shot.”
Duke looked confused. “What does your ex have to do with your business van? Is he the reason you keep moving it every day?”
I looked at Jazz, who looked at me.
Thankfully, Duke’s phone rang, pulling his attention away from us for a moment.
Jazz let out a slow exhale and then quickly hastened to her car while Duke answered his phone. He put the cell to his ear. “Yeah?” He paused and then he shook his head. “Yeah. I’ll be right there. Don’t do anything. Don’t move. I’ve got you.”
He hung up and shoved his phone into his leather cut. “I’ve got to go.”
“Everything okay?” I asked even though it was clear it wasn’t.
“Waverly’s got herself into a bit of a situation. She’s afraid to call Willa, so she called me.”
“Is she in danger?” I asked, concerned for the feisty teenager.
“She’s safe. Skipped school.” Duke rubbed the back of his neck. “She was with some older kids. Some punks that go looking for trouble.”
“Go,” I said.
“Do me a favor—don’t tell Willa. I’ll tell her once I have Waverly safe.”
I nodded. “Sure thing.”
He lowered his sunglasses onto his nose and then got on his bike. I climbed into my car and started the engine. Duke rolled out of the parking lot first and then I followed.
My phone rang on the drive home. I pressed a button on my car’s stereo to answer. “Hi.”
“What, you don’t respond to my texts anymore?” Slash demanded.
I grinned even though he couldn’t see me. “I was busy.”
“Are you busy now?”
“I’m driving home.”
“Call me when you get home. I don’t like you driving while you’re on your phone.”
“I’m not on my phone. It’s called Bluetooth, Slash. Hands free.”
“I’m not a dinosaur. I’ve heard of Bluetooth. Pay attention to the road, Brooklyn.”
He hung up.
“Bastard,” I said with a laugh.
I got home and as I was walking into the house, I called him.
“You’re home? You’re not driving?”
“I’m home.”
“Good.”
“Hypothetical situation for you,” I began as I locked the front door and threw my purse down.
“I’m listening.”
“What if our daughter is a wild child and as a teenager, falls in with the wrong crowd and starts getting into trouble?”
“Never going to happen.”
“How can you say that? You don’t know what she’ll be like.”
“True. But she’ll have me as a dad.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I’ll be just as protective of her as I am of you. If she wants to try and get into shit, she has to go through me first.”
“You can’t see me, but I’m smiling so hard right now.”
He chuckled. “You know, if we had a boy first, he could be protective of her. Another pair of watchful eyes.”
“What if our son is the one who likes trouble?” I asked.
“Then we’re screwed.”
“Very inspiring, Slash,” I muttered.
“Sorry, babe. But I was pure shit when I was a teenager. So, we have to go with the odds that if we have a son he’s going to be a demon.”
“But what a cute demon he would be.”
I went to bed at seven-thirty and slept until eight the next morning. It was glorious. I woke up slowly, in the middle of the bed. I had only a bit of nausea, but no actual morning sickness, which I greatly appreciated.
While Slash had been away, the house had gone to shit. Because I’d been working so much, the laundry had piled up, there were dishes in the sink and the bed sheets needed to be changed. Coming back to a dirty home wasn’t enjoyable, and I didn’t want to do that to Slash.
My phone chimed as I was making tea.
It was Mia. Where are you?
What do you mean? I replied back.
The spa. Remember?
Oh shit. I had completely forgotten.
I called her, and she answered on the first ring. “Tell me you’re on your way,” she said.
“No. I forgot that you set this up,” I said. “I have to bail. I have too much to do before Slash gets home.”
“What has to get done?” she asked.
“Laundry, dishes, sheets and a general cleaning.”
“You’d spend the next few hours before Slash comes home doing menial chores when you could be at a spa getting a massage and a pedicure?”
“It’s not about what I want; it’s about what needs to get done.”
She sighed. “Come to the spa. I’m sending over a cleaning crew.”
“I don’t want strangers in my house.”
“They aren’t strangers. I’ll send the girls who clean my place. You can trust them.”
“I don’t know…”
“Who do you think cleaned the place before you moved in? Come on. You’ve got to relax.”
I groaned. “Okay, but they’re not allowed to do my laundry.”
“Why not?”
“My dirty underwear is in there,” I whispered.
“Why are you whispering?” she asked in amusement.
“I don’t know.”
“Okay, they won’t touch the laundry. But everything else?”
It did sound appealing.
“I’m not very good at letting people help me.”
“I wasn’t good at it either,” she said. “But I had to learn. Especially when Scarlett came along. I didn’t have a choice. It doesn’t make you less of a person to accept help from the tribe.”
I sighed. “Okay, Mia. You wore me down. I’ll be there in half an hour.”
“Isn’t this better than cleaning?” Mia asked from the recliner next to mine.
“Way better,” I agreed.
All the Old Ladies, even Linden—who was more of a workaholic than I was, took up the other recliners. Our feet were soaking in scented water and in a few minutes, I’d be getting an epic foot rub.
“This is glorious,” Linden said, leaning back in her recliner and sighing.
“How was your massage?” Allison asked me.
“My muscles are like jelly,” I replied.
Joni’s eyes were closed, and her hands were resting on her belly. Her chest was rising and falling in a steady rhythm, clearly asleep.
“She’s going through a phase where she can’t sleep at night,” Darcy explained. “She fell asleep on my couch the other day. She was sitting up.”
I chuckled.
“How are you sleeping?” Darcy asked.
“Like the dead.” I snorted. “I’m running around like a maniac during the day, so…”
My phone buzzed in my purse, and I reached for it.
“No,” Mia groaned. “You were supposed to turn your phone off so you could get a reprieve.”
“I know, I know,” I said. “But everything is crazy right now, and I just—”
My phone kept going off, so I leaned over, shot an apologetic smile to the technician, and pulled out my cell.
“Hey, Eddie,” I said. “What’s going on?”
“Brooklyn, you’ve got to get to the bakery. It’s an emergency.”