The Forget-Me-Not Bakery

by Caroline Flynn

  Then again, maybe it had something to do with the trays and pans and dishes that were piling up on every available surface, resting on racks and potholders as they cooled. It was the one thing Paige had always done when she needed time to herself or needed to think – she cooked. She had the next couple days’ worth of doughs and baked goods prepared and stowed away in the coolers and freezers for the bakery. Two lasagnas, a meatloaf, and a shepherd’s pie were cooked and cooling on top of the stove. She would cut the nine-by-thirteen pans into meal-sized portions and freeze them. She could eat for weeks.

  And all because she needed to stay busy. Needed to keep her mind occupied. If she didn’t, she would dwell on how quickly everything had begun to fall apart.

  Paige should have known better than to approach Cohen with her concerns about Bryce. Especially without solid proof. The truth was, she thought she had been doing the right thing. Helping the boy in the long run. She wasn’t a mother, and hadn’t been raised with a handful of children around, but Paige felt in her heart that dealing with the matter head-on would have been a much better strategy than pretending it didn’t happen at all.

  She wasn’t dumb. She knew the real issue wasn’t that Bryce had been involved in something untoward, or that she had been the one to suggest his involvement. The problem wasn’t even that she hadn’t seen it happen.

  The problem lay with Cohen himself. If anyone had gone to him and stated similar concerns about Bryce, he would have come unhinged with them, too. She was sure of it. Maybe not to the extent he had with her, stating negative things about her life in New York City and making her feel like she didn’t have a clue how to interact with kids, but he would have clammed up and shut down in the same manner.

  Cohen wasn’t prepared for Bryce to grow up, and Paige would never begrudge him that. She couldn’t fathom how hard it must be to love and nurture a child for ten years, most of those spent caring for him on his own, only to find that he had become a young man in the blink of an eye. That heavy conglomerate of pride, fear, excitement, and unpreparedness must be hard to bear.

  Paige was hurt and saddened that Cohen had ended their friendship over it. Heartbroken was probably more accurate. Still, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. She was hurting for her own loss of what could have been, but Paige also hurt for him, fearing his heart might remain too closed off for anyone to ever get through to him. She had tried, and she had failed. His walls were still constructed high, and Paige didn’t see how anyone would ever succeed in breaking through them.

  In that regard, her heart pained for him just as much as herself.

  She shoved another pan of oversized oatmeal raisin cookies into the preheated oven and set the timer, knowing her clientele would go crazy for the special treat tomorrow when the bakery opened. Another thing she knew was that she had fallen too quickly for Cohen Beckett. Fallen too hard. Paige wished she could say she had known better, and pretend like she had something to compare her feelings to, but the truth was that she hadn’t known better. She had never met someone so easy to be with – so easy to love. Paige felt like she didn’t have a choice in the matter. Maybe she never did.

  Back in New York City, she had found it easy to ward off the men who pursued her. She’d never had a problem keeping a balance between her work and her personal life. Because her work came first. Always.

  She sighed. That was her biggest mistake. Paige moved to Port Landon with one item on her wish list – she wanted to be a part of a community and lead a life that didn’t resemble a constantly spinning hamster wheel. She had accomplished that, but it had come at the cost of mixing her work and personal life together. Something she didn’t understand, something she had never done before. In her small town life, there was no balance she fought to keep because Paige had nestled into a routine where she could maintain it all at once, working around her social life and blending her passion for baking with her desire for simplicity.

  Now, she didn’t know where her work life ended and her personal life began. Hell, she didn’t even know if she still had a personal life now that she didn’t have Cohen, Bryce, and Jazz to spend her time with. She had Allison, sure, and maybe even Kait after the dress-buying outing they’d survived together, but the Beckett duo and their dog had become such an integral part of her days. Paige didn’t know how she was going to pretend like the past few months had never happened.

  And in a town as small as Port Landon, the residents weren’t likely to forget the past few months, either.

  Paige sighed. Without consciously doing it, she found herself daydreaming about the anonymity that New York City had allowed her. There was never any worry about who would say what about something that happened. The city never slept, and it could always be relied on to produce something more newsworthy and eye-catching fast enough that yesterday became old news long before tomorrow began.

  That sounded pretty good to her at the moment.

  There was also something safe in knowing her old life in the city revolved around her career. Paige never had to worry about whether her merchandise would sell, whether she was appealing to the masses. She had been well-respected in her old position. And her ex-boss, Alex, at Livingston Designs had done little to hide the fact that he would welcome her back with open arms if she chose to close up shop and retreat back to the concrete jungle.

  But Paige had come so far. Was New York City and the rat race of a lifestyle she’d once lived something she wanted again? She didn’t know anymore. She didn’t trust herself to make any decision about anything right now. Her heart was too battered, her brain too fatigued from rehashing her argument with Cohen over and over like a Lifetime movie on repeat.

  It didn’t hurt to keep her options open, though. Alex Livingston had remained in contact since she took her leave from his company. A handful of texts had passed between them in the subsequent months, and all of them were innocent inquiries as to how things were going, laced with hopeful intent that he could lure her back into his employ. The lines of communication stayed open. There was a mutual respect between the two of them. Even a sense of friendship. And Paige was thankful he had been so gracious about her departure. She was even more grateful that he’d thought highly enough of her to check in and see how she was doing. Their bond, though purely professional, remained intact. And that meant more to Paige than she could explain.

  On a whim, she pulled her cell from her purse and tapped the screen a few times to bring up Alex’s text window. She typed out a quick message to say hello, making small talk and asking how things were going. Her sudden need to reconnect with the city life she left behind was indescribable, and she let out a loud sigh when a reply came almost instantly.

  Your ears must have been burning. Gerald and I just mentioned you after yesterday afternoon’s board meeting. You’re missed, Paige.

  Gerald was Alex’s uncle, and the founder of Livingston Designs. He had always been an intimidating man in Paige’s eyes. Knowing he had brought her up in conversation piqued her interest.

  She replied to him.

  You were mentioning good things, I hope? And thank you – I miss many things about NYC, too.

  She could just imagine Alex’s eyebrows raising when he read her response. Paige had ignored his last few texts to her, and this was the first time she had replied to him with anything remotely resembling nostalgia for the life she had walked away from. His reply only confirmed his interest in the real meaning behind her words.

  Such as Livingston Designs?

  Possibly.

  There was no use denying it. The prospect of being hundreds of miles away from Port Landon right now was tempting. Hundreds of miles away from the town meant hundreds of miles away from her heartbreak.

  And from Cohen Beckett.

  Do you miss it enough to discuss it with me further, Paige?

  His text came in fast. Alex had seen an in, and he was taking it.

  Paige stared at the screen, willing the words to part and give her insight into
what was between the lines so she would know what to do, know how to handle it. But there was nothing between the lines to read. She knew what Alex Livingston wanted to discuss. She knew she had options if she wanted them.

  She wrote back a simple, to-the-point reply.

  Call me.

  Chapter 24

  Cohen

  The evening following Cohen’s final argument with Paige at the clinic was a quiet one. Bryce said little to his father, and Cohen gave him the reprieve of his silence, if only because he didn’t know what to say. The following morning and evening were the same, broken up by Bryce’s school day and Cohen’s day at the clinic. Once at work, even Rhonda and Alice seemed to have lost their enthusiasm for words. It wasn’t until the next morning, almost two days since Bryce had witnessed their argument, that his son finally brought up the topic. Cohen wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or scared out of his damn mind.

  ‘So, you and Paige have really broken up this time?’

  Cohen sighed into his coffee mug before taking a sip. With only a half hour before his son had to be on his way to school and Cohen had to be heading to the vet clinic, he wondered if that was the safest subject to be discussing. Especially without a full cup of coffee running through his system. ‘I really wish you wouldn’t call it that.’

  ‘Breaking up?’ Bryce said it again, his head hovering over his bowl of Frosted Flakes as he spooned another spoonful into his mouth. ‘Well, what would you call it?’

  ‘I’m not calling it anything. Mostly because we don’t need to be discussing this.’ Cohen was sure there had to be some kind of rule about discussing his love life with his ten-year-old son, but even as he outwardly attempted to steer the conversation in another direction, he did want to know what Bryce was thinking about it. The boy hadn’t said more than a handful of sentences to him since he’d turned around and seen him standing there at the clinic. Because of that, Cohen had automatically assumed his son was angry with him for not telling him that it was a subject regarding him that he and Paige had fought over. Cohen had always been honest with Bryce. Always kept him apprised of things that affected him. He figured Bryce was upset because, while this affected him on a few different levels, his father had kept it to himself. The jury was still out as to how wise that decision was.

  ‘I want to talk about Paige, Dad.’ He said it with such an air of maturity that Cohen’s gut clenched. Not because of what his son had said, but because of the grown-up way he’d said it.

  ‘There really isn’t much to say, Bryce.’ He didn’t know how to assure him that this wasn’t something he needed to be worried about. They’d been fine before Paige Henley, just the two of them. They would be fine now.

  ‘You guys were arguing over something to do with me, right?’ Bryce’s spoon stopped midway to his mouth. He waited, unblinking.

  ‘Paige thought it was something to do with you, but it wasn’t.’ Suddenly, Cohen’s curiosity about his son’s stance on Paige Henley didn’t matter anymore. All he wanted to do was end the conversation and walk away without having to admit the truth.

  Bryce’s eyes stayed fixed on his father long enough that Cohen shifted in his seat from his discomfort. The boy put his spoon down, leaning back in his chair. It didn’t go unnoticed that his son’s posture mimicked his own. ‘And that’s why you and Paige don’t talk anymore.’ It wasn’t a question.

  ‘We have our reasons,’ Cohen replied.

  ‘Yeah,’ Bryce said quickly, meeting his father’s gaze. ‘Me.’

  The notion that his son believed he was to blame shot right through Cohen’s heart. He leaned forward, reaching for Bryce’s arm. ‘This is not your fault.’

  ‘Yes, it is.’ Bryce flinched away from him, pushing his chair back. He stood so fast Cohen thought he was going to bolt from the room, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood tall, running his fingers through his hair. ‘Dad, it’s all my fault.’

  ‘Bryce …’ He stood as well, if only to try to calm his son down.

  ‘Dad, I did it.’ The exclamation came out in one rapid breath. ‘Hunter and I took that stuff from Paige’s bakery.’

  Cohen could feel the blood drain from his face. ‘What?’

  For a boy who hadn’t spoken much in the past few days, the words suddenly began to topple from his mouth like he couldn’t get them out fast enough. ‘We didn’t plan to do it, I swear. But we stopped in, and Paige was busy with her head in one of those big coolers behind the counter. She was talking to me, but not really paying attention, you know? Hunter, like, nudged me and pointed to the table where the boxes and stuff were. I kept talking to Paige, and Hunter put a bunch of stuff in the boxes and shoved them in his backpack.’

  It was true. Damn it, it was true. His son had helped his friend steal items from Paige’s shop. Paige wouldn’t have witnessed it, but according to Bryce, everything happened exactly as Paige had suspected.

  She was right, all this time.

  ‘Bryce …’ Cohen wasn’t equipped to handle the onslaught of emotions storming through him. He was too rattled, too shocked. ‘But, why?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Bryce shook his head. He looked close to tears. It was obvious the weight of his guilt had been heavily carried on his shoulders. ‘I know I shouldn’t have let him do it, Dad. And I know I should have said something. I should’ve gone to Paige and told her. But I didn’t want Hunter to be mad at me. And I was just scared.’

  ‘It’s reasonable to be scared of the repercussions, Bryce.’ Cohen hoped he sounded steadier and sterner than he felt. ‘Speaking of that, you’re going to be grounded for a long while, you know that, right?’

  Bryce hung his head. ‘I know.’ The tears had begun to fall onto his cheeks, his chest heaving as he struggled to hold in the sobs that lodged in his throat. ‘But that’s not what I was scared of.’

  Confusion pushed to the forefront of Cohen’s ever-churning mixture of emotions. What else could a ten-year-old boy possibly be afraid of, if not the loss of a childhood friend or being grounded until he’s in college? ‘I don’t understand.’

  Bryce threw his hands up, obviously flustered by his father’s incomprehension. ‘Dad, I didn’t want to let you down!’ His hands clenched into fists. ‘Or Paige. Instead …’ A sob wracked his body, erupting from him as he clenched his fists against his eyes to unsuccessfully hold back the tears. ‘Instead, I tore you and Paige apart.’

  No, Bryce, I tore us apart. The realization sunk like lead in his stomach. All the cruel words he’d said to her, all the animosity he’d harbored toward her. Cohen blinked fast, trying to keep his own tears at bay. His own mistakes crushed his chest relentlessly, but his son’s turmoil was breaking his heart into shards, not just pieces. ‘Bryce, you didn’t—’

  ‘I did!’ Bryce cried, letting Cohen pull him against his chest. ‘It was stupid and ended up ruining you and Paige.’

  ‘Bryce, it’s okay.’ Cohen clutched the boy to him, holding him so tight he wasn’t sure he could breathe properly. Cohen didn’t believe his own words – it was far from okay – but, in that moment, he wanted to do something, anything, to take away the pain his son felt. If he couldn’t take it away, he at least vowed to ease it.

  ‘But it’s not, Dad,’ Bryce sobbed. ‘It’s not okay. I like Paige. You like Paige.’

  No, he loved Paige – there was a difference. He loved her and he’d betrayed her. He feared her because of that love, because of what that love could do to him. Cohen had been so hell-bent on pointing fingers in her direction, so quick to label her as the one guilty of deception, that he hadn’t realized he was the one deceiving everyone, himself included. He let that fear grab a hold and squeeze him, in the end using his fear to do away with love before it once again had the chance to do away with him.

  But Cohen knew he couldn’t explain that to his son. Something told him he didn’t need to, anyway. The boy was wise beyond his years, but he was still just that – a boy. ‘Let’s just deal with this whole stealing thing first, then—’r />
  ‘But, Dad, you don’t get it.’ Bryce reared back, his reddened, wet eyes glistening up at Cohen. ‘You and Paige would still be okay if me and Hunter had never taken that stuff from her shop. And you wouldn’t have had that big argument the other day.’ Bryce paused, then stepped out of his father’s arms to wipe his eyes. ‘Wait, you knew this whole time, because Paige told you. Why didn’t you ground me a long time ago?’

  Because you weren’t the only one who was scared, he thought. Because I felt that, if it was true, then I was the one who had let you down, not the other way around. He’d sure as hell let Paige down, too.

  ‘I don’t know, Bryce.’ He glanced up at the clock on the wall. They were both going to be late. ‘I guess we both should have said something before now.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Dad.’

  Cohen stared at his son as though for the first time. He knew he wasn’t just sorry because he got caught. That’s not the kind of kid Bryce was, and it wouldn’t be the kind of man he would become. Bryce was hurting because he had hurt others, and it pained Cohen to watch as he learned for the first time that his actions had consequences. Sometimes, those consequences affected others just as much as himself. ‘I know you are, buddy.’ Cohen gave him a faint encouraging smile. ‘But you were caught stealing, which means you’re still grounded until you’re eighteen.’

  ‘Figured as much,’ the boy replied, shoulders slumped. ‘But you can still fix this, right?’

  ‘You’ll need to apologize to Paige face to face, and you’ll have no weekly allowance until you’ve paid her back in full for what you took.’ Cohen held his fingers up, counting each point one by one. Bryce, however, had others points to make and he waved his hands dismissively to shush his dad.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, I know all that, Dad,’ he stated, a renewed sense of determination in his gaze. ‘But what are you going to do?’

  ‘Me?’ Cohen’s forehead wrinkled.