Sugar and Gold

by Brea Viragh

  I beat at his chest and tried to tear away. “How dare you—”

  “Shut up and kiss me,” he tossed back. Through our embrace he muttered against my skin, “Don’t try to make this wrong when it’s the most right thing in the world.”

  My arms locked around his neck and I drew him closer, stealing his breath as my own. The single nip of my bottom lip changed the angle of our kiss and I lost all interest in fighting the good fight. There was no way to stand in front of a natural disaster and stop the devastation.

  It was a slippery slope from control into chaos, and I trembled my way down.

  My voice was hoarse when I drew back and spoke to him. “This changes nothing. You still have to go.”

  “Sugar, this changes everything.”

  He was the same as me, I knew. Just as fucked-up and undone. But that didn’t alter the fact that this could go nowhere. We were not a couple who could live happily ever after. I wasn’t even sure I believed in happily ever after anymore.

  “No,” I said, defeated. “This could never work. Whatever this is...” I gestured between us. “It has roots in something unhealthy. For both of us. Best to...to forget we ever knew each other.”

  “Forget? How am I supposed to forget the woman I love? You can’t be serious.”

  “I am serious, Isaac. It’s over.”

  My heart almost broke all over again at the sudden look of devastation on his face. Something in my tone must have convinced him I really meant it, because he turned to leave at the exact moment I swiveled toward the door.

  The taste of him was engrained on my soul as I reached in my pocket for my keys, listening to those heavy footsteps retreat toward the pickup. How terrible it would be, I knew, to live without him. At last I saw clearly the one piece of the puzzle I’d tried so hard to fight against. Isaac and I, we were a pair of star-crossed lovers. Doomed from the very start.

  It took all my strength not to turn over my shoulder to look back. Fumbling with the key, I clamped my mouth closed against all the things I wanted to say, should have said, and maybe even wished I could take back some of the things I did say.

  There was only one thing I knew for sure and hoped he understood: This was goodbye.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Days had passed since that embarrassing scene, and I was still no closer to forgetting. Never mind forgiving. I didn’t want to be the bigger person. I’d played the role more often than I liked to admit in my life, and for once I was tired of it. There were other, more important issues to contend with, instead of focusing on a single encounter I tried to write off as ancient history. What happened between us under the stars would drown in the dregs of memories best forgotten.

  The bakery was up and running within the next week, the grand reopening going off without a hitch. Not a single rat to be seen, human or four-legged. Dubois had promised my license would be renewed, and I admit I was surprised when he delivered. Shocked when he reached out to shake my hand of his own accord. Flabbergasted when he offered me a smile. I threw in a box of sugar cookies gratis to seal the deal and solidify our friendship.

  One could never be too chummy with the local health inspector.

  We were back in business. Literally and figuratively. Luckily, I had one good thing going for me.

  Gossip.

  I’d been closed long enough to have people wondering, speculating as to the nature of the sign on the door. They were all too willing to come in and investigate at our reopening. The heavy discounts helped.

  I’d never been happier to have tongues wagging.

  I chained Leda to the ovens—her words—and mass-produced to get our inventory up to par. Setting a punishing routine for myself left no time to think about the one thing I wanted to think about more than anything: Isaac. With him out of the picture I had more time for work. For getting my life back in order. With him out of the picture, there hadn’t been any more accidents. Sure, it had only been about a week and a half, but it felt like life was normal again.

  Normal and empty.

  Reflexively, I reached for my phone to text Isaac to let him know about the spectacular day we’d had. Realizing at the last instant that I could never do that, never have contact with him again was like a mule-kick to my gut.

  Definitely empty.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever worked that hard in my life.” Leda’s eyes blinked open and she stared at me with a wealth of exhaustion. Coupled, I was happy to see, with appreciation. “Do you know how many customers we had walk in that door?”

  “One hundred and sixty,” I said tiredly. Then offered her a weak smile. “I know, I’m exhausted too. I just...I hope it was enough.”

  “Hon, it’s enough. Trust me. And the momentum will pick up from here.” She slung her purse over her shoulder and regarded me thoughtfully. “You keep sending me home early. I’m starting to think you don’t like me.”

  I shot her a defeated expression.

  “Will you be okay on your own?” She hesitated in the doorway. “Really okay?”

  I shooed her off. “What do you think I’m made of? I can handle the cleanup on my own. You worked hard today and deserve some time with your husband.”

  “Yeah, it was a crazy boom of activity. Now I feel like I could sleep for a week.” Bending down to rub a spot on her ankle, Leda winced. “I don’t like leaving you alone.”

  I glanced out the window at the descending darkness. Yeah, given the recent circumstances, I didn’t want to be alone either. Bad things happened to me when I was left to my own devices, and lately, only half of those were my own doing.

  Had I remembered to eat? Yes...I think. If a hot dog counted as a meal.

  Still, I wouldn’t let my faceless, nameless tormenter win by giving in to fear. If he or she were even still out there. Nothing had happened in weeks now, and I hoped—prayed—it was over. “I’ll be fine. You head home before Duncan sends out a search party to find you.”

  “Thanks.” Leda shot me a grateful smile. “See you tomorrow”

  “Bright and early.”

  I listened to the sounds of her footsteps disappearing out the back door. Traffic continued to zoom by, everyone heading toward the epicenter of town and the Friday night jamboree. If I’d been in my right mind, I would have packed a pair of boots and told Isaac to meet me on the dance floor—

  I shook my head, hard, as if I could dislodge all thoughts of Isaac. As if. But I had to try. It had been wonderful having him as my personal bodyguard for a while. A sexy, beefy bodyguard who slept under the same roof with me. A bodyguard who brewed a pot of coffee before leaving for work, making sure there was plenty left for me when I rose.

  Yup, a girl could get used to that kind of luxury.

  But there had been no more threatening texts, no more late night breaking and entering. Therefore no more Isaac and his need to be my protector. His need to show up and ruin my life under the guise of help.

  It was wrong to admit I missed him. But I did. God help me, I did.

  My old routine popped back into place easily enough, despite the emptiness of the house. Or my sudden desire to have red wine outside of my allotted Saturday ration.

  When book club rolled around on Monday night, my mind was off in the clouds. More interested in what-ifs and should-haves than the fiction piece in my hand. Teeth clenched, I ran my fingers repeatedly along the spine of the book.

  “I found the plot highly developed, although pacing got a little iffy toward the middle. What do you think, Essie?”

  “Hmm?” I focused my attention on the speaker, a new college graduate with a steam-punk flair for fashion. If her corset and boots were any indication. “What did you say, Poppy? I wasn’t listening.”

  Shari reached out and removed the stemware clenched hard enough to break in my fist. “I think you’ve had enough now.”

  No, in fact I’d only had a few sips, too wrapped up in my own thoughts to pay attention.

  Book club was in full swing again after the mishap
s of the last few weeks. Against my better judgment I had invited everyone over, taking the time to bake a round of baklava for the girls. Instead of love, the secret ingredient to my cooking became bitter disappointment. I wondered if it affected the taste? No one had told me any different.

  “Give me back my drink.” I lurched forward to retrieve the wineglass. It wasn’t Saturday, but I needed the red wine. A panacea for my tumultuous state.

  “Anyway, as I was saying, I enjoyed this book immensely, give or take a few slow scenes in the middle,” Poppy continued, unhindered by the interruption. She sat in a chair catty-corner to the sofa, with a soft, contented expression on her face.

  I’d intended to spend the day relaxing, indulge in a little at-home spa treatment with the duo of foot scrubs purchased last month. I’d wanted to do as little thinking as possible to better focus on me and the direction of my life. I’d not intended, however, to spend the majority of my day baking sweets and thinking about Isaac. Each lick of the sugary confection from my finger brought back memories of him.

  My physical and emotion well-being were both on a steady decline and I needed to get them back toward homeostasis. Every time a certain fair-haired someone crossed my mind—and he crossed it a lot—I spiraled out of control.

  The steady rain that had been falling since midmorning did nothing to help my mood, either. A heady wind picked up speed and strength, as if determined to strip autumn-hued leaves from their branches instead of letting them shed naturally, gracefully. The wind continued to roar until it drowned out the chatter of my thoughts.

  Still, Isaac had crept into my waking dreams. He crept between the seconds when I mixed batter, when I washed dishes in the sink. When I sank down to my knees on the kitchen floor but somehow managed to keep the tears inside. I wanted to bash his smug face until it bled. This was love?

  “Would you rather we leave, Essie? Because it’s clear you aren’t paying attention.”

  Frowning, I looked over at Shari and blinked. “Sorry. I’m a little distracted. Please stay.”

  “You’re not making it fun for the rest of us, you know?” Shari slouched on the couch with Frank on her lap. She reached to snag her third piece of dessert and tossed it into her mouth At least they appreciated my baklava.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again and shifted position on the chair, snuggling deeper under the warm chenille throw. “I didn’t mean to insult anyone. I’m having an off day. Everyone is entitled to one of those every once in a while. Right?”

  Saying nothing at first, Leda scooted her chair closer to me, her feet tucking beneath the whimsical ruffle of her skirt. She stared pointedly at me. “Talk to us. We’re your friends. We know when something is up, and I have to say, from what we see it’s more than an off day.”

  “Spill,” Poppy added. She gestured with her wineglass, which held only grape juice due to her age being a hair shy of legal. “You’ve been sullen all night.”

  I held up a hand to still their comments. “How about everyone just go back to the book analysis and I promise to pay better attention. Okay?”

  Leda took my hands in hers, the wine splashing over the rim of the glass before she growled and set it aside. “We aren’t saying another word about this book until you tell us what’s wrong.”

  I glanced around the circle at the three of them. “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”

  “Absolutely not,” Poppy affirmed.

  “Maybe I don’t want to air my dirty laundry for the world to see.” I steadied my nerves, temper flaring like the beginning of an inferno. The burp burst forth in a gastrointestinal blaze and I quickly covered my mouth. “But if you must know, I had a run-in with Isaac the other day. A run-in which, as you can see, resulted in him moving out.”

  The roomed stilled, all attention drawn toward me. I squirmed under the weight of three sets of eyes. “It’s over between us. Whatever I thought we had was obviously just his way to get back at me. I need a man who treats me to romance and candlelight. Walks in the woods, and flowers for no reason. Not a man who makes a love nest in the bed of his pickup truck, makes love to me like no one’s ever done before, and then tells me he both loves and hates me at the same time.” I raised my glass high in a mock toast to the group. “So there you have it. Happy now?”

  Leda, Poppy, and Shari all shared a single look before Shari finally spoke. “Do you honestly think that’s true? You two are perfect for each other. There’s no way he can hate you.”

  Leda shook her head. “I was skeptical about him. I admit it. He was fresh out of jail and I was worried, I won’t apologize for it. Still, I got to know him, and he has real feelings for you, Essie. The forever kind. He may be a little pissed, but there’s no hate. We’ve all seen the way he looks at you.”

  “We want you to be happy...” Poppy began.

  “Abso-freaking-lutely,” Shari agreed, cutting her off. “And the breakup with Isaac is upsetting you. That’s pretty obvious.”

  “It’s not really a breakup since we never dated.”

  “Semantics. There are other serious issues we feel you’ve been ignoring. You’re in danger, girl.”

  “You do realize you’ve been attacked not once, but on four separate occasions?” Leda asked pointedly.

  Her statement shoved me further into the depths of despair. Otherwise known as depression.

  “Aren’t the police supposed to solve these kinds of things?” I argued.

  “We all know they aren’t taking the threats against you seriously.” Poppy leaned forward, clutching her knees. “We think it’s time for an intervention.”

  “What are you talking about? I don’t need an intervention.”

  Shari shuffled to the edge of her chair. “Remember the conversation we had a bit ago? Where you told me problems in the county were solved by people taking matters into their own hands?” She mimed holding a gun.

  I frowned.

  She gestured again.

  I shrugged, taking no responsibility for anything I may or may not have said.

  With a sigh, Leda responded, “She means shooting people, Essie, and burying them where no one will find the body.”

  Poppy nodded, as if even she would be on board for that.

  “Maybe.” I nodded, keeping my eyes averted. “Yes.”

  “Maybe we’ve been giving it some thought,” Shari said with pursed lips, then gave a tiny shrug. “Just sayin’.”

  Leda let a defeated breath slip through her lips. “We considered it for a split second, before deciding we would feel better if you—and Frank—stayed with one of us for the time being. Until the air clears and some solid leads on the culprit are in place. A bullet is no joke. Pack whatever you need in a bag and decide where you want to go. Isaac can wait. We want to make sure you’re safe, and this is the only way we know how.”

  Dragging my hands though my hair, I wondered what I could say to dig my way out of this hole. “You really think it’s necessary? There hasn’t been an incident in a while, not for the last three weeks. I think whatever was happening is done.”

  “We’ve all had moments where we’ve gone completely mental,” Poppy said plainly. “I think this is one of yours.”

  “Now hold on—”

  Shari looked at me and frowned. I could tell she was disappointed I was being stubborn about this. “You’re missing the point. You’ve been so caught up with Isaac that you haven’t taken the time to see to your own safety. We’re prepared to do it for you. We know about the near-accident when someone tried to push you into traffic.”

  A surge of panic deadened my limbs and I almost dropped my glass. “I didn’t exactly hide it from you.”

  “We also know you’ve been nearly starving yourself because of the stress.”

  I wanted badly to roll my eyes. The girls were looking out for me, true, but it wasn’t up to them. I wasn’t trading one knight for three. Not when the attacks had stopped. I was back in control. Back to being the Essie I knew and trusted. Their co
ncern was sweet and kind but poorly timed. “I’ve been getting better. I ate an entire can of salted peanuts today. See? Progress.”

  Leda patted my hand. Hard. Really hard. “You’re still not getting it. Your sense of personal safety has gone down the tube. You need our protection whether you want it or not.”

  At that point I did what I did best, which was maintain control and refuse to acknowledge them. No idea why. I had a roomful of people who cared about me, genuinely cared, yet for some reason I would rather run into the bedroom and hide. “I don’t need your protection, thank you very much. I’m fine.”

  Poppy jumped in after gaping at me for a full ten seconds. “Are you serious? Gunshots fired at your head are not fine, at least not in my book.”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her that, to a normal person, her reaction made sense. But I was about as far from normal as one could get, at the moment. “I don’t need an intervention,” I repeated, voice agitated.

  “If you think we’re leaving this house without you, then you’re mistaken.” Leda frowned at me and crossed her arms over her chest. “There have been too many issues over the past month for us to let it go. We’re your friends, and we want you to be safe. If that means beating you over the head to make it happen...”

  I cringed, suddenly ashamed of myself.

  “What’s the worst that could happen by letting us help?” Poppy added. “We’re here for a reason. And it’s not book club. Or your baklava. Which tastes a little burnt, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

  “Here’s how this is going to play out,” Shari explained, with brows drawn together in determination. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. “You’re going to pack a bag of necessities for you and Frank. You’re going to go home with Leda, spend a week there, then I’ll be over to pick you up and you’ll stay a week with me. We’ll alternate until we figure out what’s going on and know for certain that you’re no longer in danger. We plan to call the police tomorrow morning to check up on the progress of the investigation. And light a fire under their collective butts if necessary.”