I righted myself and smiled into her pretty face. Kat hadn’t changed much in the ten years I’d known her, and she was still one of my favorite people in the world. I was so lucky to get to work with her, doing what I loved, every day.
“I just came by to prep for tomorrow, and maybe make some pastries to drop off at my mom’s house,” I said, answering her earlier question. “Plus, we had the intervention for Scott tonight, and I need to clear my head.”
Kat rubbed my arm absently and asked, “How’d it go with Scott?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I mean, he was upset … didn’t stay long. He didn’t want to talk it over or discuss Victoria with us. He said that he heard what we were saying, and that he needed to think, then he left.”
My stomach clenched at the memory of the look on his face when I began talking. He’d been totally taken by surprise, and I couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take him to forgive me.
“Scott’s got a good head on his shoulders,” Kat assured me. “He’ll be upset at first, but he’ll come around, don’t you worry. Go ahead and clear your head.”
“Thanks,” I said, leaning in to give her a quick hug before making my way to the kitchen. I stopped right before the entrance to open my locker and grab my chef’s coat. I placed my bag into the locker before shutting it, and entered the kitchen as I buttoned up the coat.
I inhaled deeply, reveling in the sweet smell that always seemed to permeate within these walls. The display cases up front would be cleaned out and empty, with any leftover pastries being wrapped up and put away until they were put on clearance in the morning.
We made fresh donuts and pastries every morning, and a few cupcakes for the afternoon, but most of our items were pre-ordered in order to diminish waste. Whatever was leftover got put into the ‘pastries made yesterday’ case, and sold at a discounted price. It was a pretty smart idea, which Kat had implemented a few years back. My favorite part of the day was early morning, before the sun came up, when it’s just my music and me as I’m making the day’s delights.
Once my favorite Pandora station was queued into the computer in the back, I began to gather the items I needed from the refrigerator and the pantry. Within moments, my hands were immersed in dough, I was singing happily along to Taylor Swift’s current hit, and my worries about Scott began to fade away.
Chapter 3 – Scott
I smoothed down the lapels of my suit coat as I stood outside Victoria’s condo. I looked around the perfectly manicured grounds in the upscale complex, procrastinating … I was not looking forward to the shit storm that I was sure was about to rain down on me.
I grabbed my balls to make sure they were still there, then took a deep breath and inserted my key in the lock. I shut the door quietly behind me and walked soundlessly down the marble hallway to the professionally decorated living room, oblivious to the walls lined with priceless art.
We’d agreed not to live together until we were married, and I have to admit, I’d been relieved. I enjoyed having my own space to go home to at the end of the day, and I guess I’d always assumed that Victoria felt the same way, although I’d never really asked. Our parents had approved, saying it would be inappropriate to live together before marriage. Although I didn’t agree with that sentiment on principle, I never argued, because I was happy to enjoy my freedom a little longer.
Now that I really thought about it, that probably should have been a red flag in our relationship.
When I rounded the corner my eyes surveyed the room before landing on Victoria. She was sitting on her favorite chaise lounge, a paperback open in her hands. She was dressed impeccably, in slacks and a blouse.
“Victoria,” I spoke softly, so as not to startle her. She was always called Victoria, never Vicky … Always so formal.
She looked up at my words, and I was annoyed to notice that her hair and makeup were as flawless as her attire.
Why did she need to look perfect when all she was doing was reading a book?
Victoria placed the book down next to her as she swung her legs down and stood, walking forward to kiss me on the cheek. “I wasn’t expecting you,” she said calmly as she pulled back to look into my eyes. She always seemed like she could see right through me, and when her lips turned down, I knew she suspected something was wrong.
“Victoria,” I said again. I figured the faster I said what I needed to say the better. There was no need to drag out the inevitable. “We need to talk.”
“Are you really going to start this again?” she asked haughtily, turning to walk toward the bar in the corner. She poured herself a glass of amber liquid ‒‒ I assumed it was scotch, knowing her father ‒‒ and turned back to me with a scowl. “What? Have you been spending time with your friends? Did they convince you that I’m the wicked witch again?”
I sighed heavily.
“This isn’t about my friends, it’s about us…” I began, my tone regretful.
“Things have been going great the last few weeks, Scott. What is wrong with us?” Victoria closed her eyes as she took a generous swig.
I walked closer to her and held out my hands, but stopped myself from touching her when she opened her eyes and pinned me with a stare.
“Things are never great with us, Victoria. We’ve been going through the motions for years,” I said, hoping to get her to see that what I was saying was true. “I think we’ve been moving in the direction that was logical for a relationship, without truly thinking of what marriage between us would actually be like.”
“I know exactly what marriage between us would be like,” Victoria argued. “Look at our parents’ marriages … We would have a full life, full of affluence and prestige. You will work your way up the ladder at Brandt Industries, and I will be the perfect wife. We will attend parties, volunteer for charities, and contribute to society. What about that sounds bad to you?”
I looked at the frustration on her face, and knew that to her, what she described really did sound like the perfect marriage. To me … it sounded like a nightmare.
“We’ve been over this before, and, yes, marriage between us looks great on paper, but I’ve realized something. Not once did you mention love, happiness, or children. Aren’t those things important to you?” I asked sincerely. “Don’t you think we both deserve a marriage filled with those things? With passion? Not just a superficial life?”
“Superficial?” Victoria repeated, her cheeks getting red with anger. “There’s more to life than emotion. Passions burn out and end in heartache. What I’m talking about is a marriage of companionship and understanding. A relationship that will endure.”
“I can’t live like that,” I responded. “I don’t want a marriage like my parents. A loveless marriage of convenience. You know that … And I think we’ve lost sight of what our relationship is turning into. Yes, we were happy in the beginning, but we’ve both changed over the years, and I don’t think we’ve grown together; I think we’ve grown apart. I need more.”
Victoria’s face crumbled with hurt, and I was able to see the girl behind the mask that I’d fallen for when we first met. It seemed so long ago, and I sometimes forgot that there was ever a time that Victoria and I were happy, and almost giddy with love. That was before my job became my focus, and before Victoria began to act like my mother.
“Are you saying that you don’t love me?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
My heart pounded in my chest, and I ached for the couple we once were.
“No, I don’t.” I knew I had to rip off the Band-Aid. “I don’t like the person I am with you, and I can’t go through with this marriage.”
Victoria’s face hardened, and the glimpse of the girl I once loved was gone, replaced with the woman I knew I could never be happy with.
“Fine.” She set down her glass and took the engagement ring off of her finger, holding it out and dropping it in my open palm. “I’m not going to beg you to take me back this time. I need a man who knows wha
t he wants, and doesn’t jump every time his friends tell him to. I know my worth, even if you don’t. Goodbye, Scott.”
She turned around, her back rigid, and stared out the window into the garden outside.
I thought about trying to comfort her, but realized doing so would only make this situation harder, so I turned and walked back down the hallway to the door. I paused, taking the key to her condo off of my key ring, and placing it on the tall table by the front entrance.
When I was hallway to my apartment, the relief hit me … I was free.
It suddenly felt as if a year’s worth of pressure had been lifted off my shoulders, and I felt myself grinning like a loon.
I bounded up the stairs to my apartment, a laugh escaping me when I slid on the top step. Not even the sight of my mother’s number on my phone as it started ringing could dampen my happiness.
“Hello, Mother,” I said, answering the phone as I let myself into my place.
“Scott,” her shrill voice barked back at me. “What is this I hear of you breaking it off with Victoria? Must we go through this again?”
“Thanks for your concern, Mother. I’m doing fine,” I answered sarcastically.
“Why should I be concerned about you, when it’s Victoria who’s humiliated and devastated?”
“Victoria will be just fine, Mother,” I replied dryly. “I can’t talk now, I’ll see you this weekend.”
“Don’t you dare…” my mother got out before I silenced the call.
I emptied my pockets, laying the contents on my dresser, as I took off my suit and laid it across the back of a chair. I pulled out some basketball trunks, leaving my things strewn about rather than putting them away. Victoria detested a cluttered space, so I’d always made sure to put things in their proper place … but, not today.
I grabbed a bag of chips and a beer, and settled down on my couch.
She’d also disapproved of eating anywhere other than the table.
I opened the bag, then placed it on the table without taking any chips out. I set the beer on the table and sat back, resting my head on the back of the couch.
I needed to figure out who I was now. Not the man I was before Victoria, and certainly not the man I’d become with her, but maybe it was time to become the man I truly wanted to be.
I may not have everything figured out, but at least I had a job that I loved … The rest would come in time.
Chapter 4 – Gaby
I was just finishing up putting my chef coat and hat in my locker, securing my hair in a band and hair tie, when Brock walked into the kitchen. Tall, and muscular, with hair that was a little too long on top, and a closely cropped beard, Brock was very secure in his masculinity, and it looked good on him.
Very good.
His looks combined with his sweet dispositions, savvy business sense, and all-around good-guyness, made him quite a catch.
We’d been dating for a few weeks, and the more I got to know him, the more I really liked him.
I’d just finished my shift and had the rest of the afternoon free. Owning his own painting company meant Brock made his own hours and had capable people working for him, so he’d asked to whisk me away for the afternoon.
“Hey, sweet girl, you ready?” Brock strode toward me and gathered me into a hug, inhaling deeply. He said he loved the way I always smelled sweet. I put my arms around him for a moment and let myself be held. Brock was a terrific hugger, and since he was so much bigger than me, I enjoyed how safe I always felt in his arms.
“Yup,” I said, tilting my head up to grin at him when he released me from his arms.
“You have your bathing suit, or do we need to stop at your place?” he asked, taking my hand in his as we walked out of the bakery.
“I’ve got it,” I said, swinging my purse out to show him. Brock had a beautiful pool that he’d had custom built in his backyard a few years ago. We were going to hang out, do some swimming, then barbecue for dinner.
“Great.” He smiled down at me as he held the door open. “I just need to stop by Brady’s for a minute, then we will be on our way to relaxation.”
“Sounds good,” I replied.
Brock’s truck was huge, and he drove it most days since he could load up the back for work. He held out his hand to help me into the cab, then shut the door behind me. I enjoyed riding in his truck, but I loved the days when he picked me up on his motorcycle. Brock was the kind of man who was made to ride, and although it wasn’t practical for him to ride when he had to work, he took it out whenever the opportunity arose.
Alternative rock filled the cab of the truck as we pulled away and headed toward his brother Brady’s house. Brock had two brothers, Brady and Brendan, and had raised them when their parents died in an accident ten years ago. Brock had only been seventeen at the time, and he and his brothers were very close because of it.
“How was work today?” Brock asked, breaking me out of my thoughts.
“Busy, but good. We had an order for a custom cake for a baby shower. It was made into the shape of a baby carriage, and turned out great,” I replied with a smile, remembering the shout of excitement the woman had made when she came to pick up the cake. She was the mother of the woman whose shower it was, and this would be her first grandchild. “How about you? Did you have a lot of work today?”
Brock rubbed his fingers absently across his chin and said, “Yeah, I had three jobs going on this morning, but I had a chance to stop by all of the sites, and my guys had a good handle on the work. I also got a request for a job at some new condominiums opening up downtown. There are twenty condos altogether, and they’d like to have them done before the grand opening in two weeks. It’s a big job, but will be great for the company.”
“That’s wonderful, Brock, congratulations!” I said sincerely. I thought the business he’d built for himself was amazing, and a testament to the kind of man he was. “Do you want me to wait in the car?” I asked when we pulled in his brother’s driveway.
“No, you should come in.” Brock hopped down and I waited, knowing by now that he was going to come around and open my door for me. I may be an independent, free-spirited woman, but I enjoyed the fact that Brock was a true gentleman. It made him happy to do little things for me, like open my door or hold my hand, and I had to admit, I enjoyed the fact that he made the effort.
When we got to the door, he opened it up and shouted, “Brady, we’re here!” We walked through the clutter of his living room to the back of the house, and went out the sliding glass door when we heard him shout back from the backyard.
“You’re such a slob, bro,” Brock said in greeting when we stepped outside.
“Sorry, Dad,” Brady said sarcastically. “How about you worry about the conditions of your house, and let me worry about mine.” Brady was fiddling with his riding lawnmower. He’d obviously been at it for a while; his shirt was slung over a lawn chair, and he had sweat running down his toned chest. He wasn’t as tall as Brock, and had more of a leaner build. Where Brock had dark blond hair, Brady’s was almost black. They both shared the dark, tanned complexion of their mother. I’d seen pictures of her, she’d been a gorgeous Mexican woman.
“Here, let me see,” Brock said, reaching to take a tool out of Brady’s hand. Brady released it gladly and turned to me.
“Hey, Gaby.” Brady flashed a dangerously sexy grin at me. At twenty-five, he was the same age that I was, whereas Brock was a few years older. “Didya bring cupcakes?”
“Sorry,” I responded with a laugh when his face fell. “I didn’t realize we were coming over, or I would have brought a batch for you.”
“That should do it,” Brock said as he turned the key and the lawnmower started right up.
“Seriously?” Brady threw his hands in the air, obviously frustrated that his brother had already fixed what he hadn’t been able to.
Brock turned the machine back off and wiped his hands on his brother’s discarded shirt. “I got the condo project, and I’d like yo
u to take the lead on it. You up for it?”
“Yeah,” Brady said absently, looking at the lawnmower and shaking his head.
“Great, we can talk about it tomorrow at the office. How about ten?” Brock asked. When Brady nodded his consent, Brock walked over to me and took my hand in his. “See you then.”
“Bye, Brady,” I called over my shoulder as we turned away.
“See ya, Gaby,” he murmured.
I heard the lawnmower start up as we exited the house.
Brock lived on the same street as his brother, so rather than get back in the truck, I grabbed my bag and we walked down the street to his house. As we walked up his sidewalk, I admired the Spanish-style home. Brock and his brothers had grown up in this home, and I loved the fact that Brock still lived there. Some of the furnishings were still his parents’, while others he’d updated over the years.
The first time I’d come over, Brock had told me that the biggest, and his favorite, additions to the house where the kitchen and the pool.
The kitchen was a dream. I wasn’t much of a cook, but my baker’s hands itched to roll dough every time I looked at the marble countertops. Brock was actually a really good cook. His youngest brother, Brendan, was currently going to culinary school, and I’d been lucky enough to be a guinea pig during one of his cooking assignments. He was amazing! He lived with Brock, and was saving his money while he went to school.
“You wanna change in the bathroom and I’ll meet you outside?” Brock asked, leaning down to give me a quick kiss on the nose.
“Sounds good,” I said with a smile. Our relationship hadn’t progressed past the making-out stage. Brock was very understanding, and never tried to push me further than I was ready to go. It’s wasn’t like I was a prude or anything, but I liked to establish an emotional relationship before a physical one. Although, I had to admit, it was getting harder to go home alone at the end of the night.
42 Hours Page 2
