by Cindy Kirk
Her phone continued to buzz unanswered. Then the wall phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID. Not Will’s number. She frowned. The Dough Knot wasn’t officially open on Sundays—who would call her here? “Hello?”
A female voice. Not Will. “Hi there. Is this Charlotte?”
“Yes, this is Charlotte with The Dough Knot. I’m sorry, we’re not open.” She started to hang up.
“I was hoping to talk.”
Huh?
“This is Melissa. Will’s sister.”
Charlotte sank against the counter. “Hi.”
“I’m glad I caught you!” Melissa’s upbeat voice brought instant ease. Charlotte relaxed slightly. “I called the bakery hoping the answering machine would give me your cell number or something.” She paused. “I didn’t want to ask Will for it because he doesn’t know I’m calling.”
Aha. “He must have told you about last night.”
“He’s frustrated. He doesn’t get it. Thought things were going well with you guys.” Melissa exhaled heavily. “Listen, Charlotte, I don’t usually get involved in these types of things, but Will is my big brother—my only brother—and I thought maybe you should understand something about him.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes and braced herself for the sisterly, biased defense.
“He’s an idiot.”
Charlotte snorted, then laughed.
“I’m serious, girl. He has no idea what he’s doing anymore. He’s been out of the dating game a long time, and with that big ol’ compassionate heart of his, well—he doesn’t know how to turn people away. Sometimes it gives the wrong impression.”
“A long time, huh?” Charlotte wished she could see Melissa’s eyes right now. But why would his sister lie to her?
“You have no idea. Years. He’s put his life on hold for me, and—it’s gotten ridiculous, to be honest. I’ve told him to get back out there a hundred times, but he never listened.” Melissa hesitated. “Until you came along.”
The admission thawed a piece of Charlotte’s heart she’d tried hard to freeze. She clutched the phone a little tighter.
“That’s why I’m calling. I hate to get in the middle and make this worse, but I had to try. Will is special, and you must be pretty special, too, if you could tug him free of this cycle he’s been trapped in for years.”
Charlotte closed her eyes against the dozens of thoughts vying for attention. “I—I don’t know what to say.”
“Just say you’ll give him a chance. I don’t know exactly what happened last night, but I know Will would never hurt anyone on purpose. He’s grown up a lot in the last several years—I didn’t really give him a choice in that matter.”
“What do you mean?”
“Will hasn’t told you?”
Her cell phone chirped, this time announcing an incoming text. Will.
Are you ok?
She hesitated, then shouldered the phone and wrote back. Baking.
I’m coming over.
She wanted to see him. But no. She had to protect her heart. Had to process all that Melissa just told her. She bit her lip, then typed back. I’m really busy.
Too late.
She jerked her head up, nearly dropping the phone as Zoe’s voice hollered from the dining room. “Mom! Will’s here!”
No. She closed her eyes. “Melissa, I’m sorry. Will just got here. I need to go.”
“That’s fine.” Melissa’s voice sped up, just like Will’s did when he got in a hurry. “Just hear him out, okay? He’s an idiot, for sure, but he’s a great guy. I can vouch for that.”
Charlotte blew out her breath. “I’ll try.”
“Thanks, Charlotte.”
“Thanks for calling.” She hung up, her heartbeat roaring in her ears.
Charlotte gave Zoe permission to unlock the front door—even though she was pretty sure she’d already done it. As she headed to the front, the bell chimed, confirming her suspicions.
Zoe held up a page from her coloring book of a giant cupcake, decorated in every color of the rainbow. Will exclaimed over it and waited while Zoe tore the page free and handed it to him. He folded it carefully and tucked it in his jeans pocket.
Charlotte waited behind the counter, hands shoved in her apron pockets, fiddling with her phone and wishing she had just answered. It’d be much easier to have this conversation over the phone than in person.
“Hey.” Will made his way behind the counter. “We need to talk.”
“You’re right. In the kitchen.” She led the way, wishing her heart wasn’t so soft. Wishing he didn’t smell so good. The door swung shut behind them, and she took a ragged breath. She didn’t know what to believe. What to risk.
She wanted him to leave.
Wanted him to hug her.
“Are you still mad?” Will crossed his arms over his chest and studied her.
She shrugged, fiddling with a striped oven mitt. “I don’t know what to think.”
“I think you overreacted.”
Her defenses flared. “Are you kidding me?”
He spread his hands wide. “I didn’t do or say anything inappropriate at the party. And yet you were jealous.”
“Jealous?” Hardly. More like just trying to survive and be wise. All of Melissa’s precursors fled away in the light of his accusation. “I highly doubt that.”
“I tried to bring you into the conversations. You checked out.”
“I checked out because everyone there kept telling me all about Free Willy.” She narrowed her gaze at him. “Did you know you’re a legend?”
He closed his eyes briefly. “Free Willy. Are you serious? Someone told you that?”
“Yes.” She blinked back tears of aggravation, slapping the oven mitt on the counter. “I already felt left out and out of place because of my stupid shirt and—”
He frowned. “Your shirt?”
She brushed it off. “Forget it. I just meant I didn’t belong, and hearing all about your frat-boy, glory-day stories from those women . . . it was too much.” No wonder he was confused. Even now, it sounded superficial, empty, shallow. Exactly like overreacting.
But in her heart, it was so much more than that. Her defensiveness morphed into frustration. With Zoe’s father, for being such a jerk. With Will, for making her care so much so fast.
With herself.
“You know what I think?”
“Oh please, enlighten me.” She didn’t even try to keep the sarcasm from her tone.
“I think you’re scared.”
She blinked at him, and he came closer, walking toward her until he backed her against the counter.
“I think you’re afraid to trust anyone again, and you’re so used to searching for reasons not to, that you’ve started making them up.”
“What? That’s—that’s crazy.”
“Is it?” He had her pinned against the counter now, one arm braced on either side. “I have a past, one I’m not proud of. That’s a given.”
Don’t we all? a voice inside her head whispered. You’re a fine one to hold a grudge against someone because of their past. Guilt nudged her stomach.
“But do you really believe I’m still Free Willy, Charlotte?”
She refused to look in his eyes, staring instead at the Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. A muscle in his jaw clenched. Was he nervous? Nervous because he was lying?
She risked a quick glance at his face, then away. No, not nervous. Anxious. Because this mattered to him.
She mattered to him.
She closed her eyes. Her head throbbed with all the indecision and uncertainty. “I don’t know.”
“You do know.” His breath warmed her neck as he drew even closer. “Look in my eyes, Charlotte. Eyes don’t lie. What are they telling you?”
She didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to risk it. What about Zoe? What about her own heart? She couldn’t afford to let it break again. Couldn’t afford to be made a fool again.
“Look at my eye
s, Charlotte.” He waited, not budging, making her decide.
She swallowed hard. Memories of her time with Will flittered through her mind. Their nonstop laughing at the restaurant. The way his eyes twinkled when he bought snickerdoodles. His warm kisses. Zoe’s smile when he walked into the bakery.
She met his eyes. Saw how they brimmed openly with sincerity. With honesty.
With—love?
This wasn’t Free Willy anymore. This was a man who had been changed and remade and who was taking his own risk by stepping out toward her. And all he asked is that she step out and meet him halfway.
He wasn’t exactly safe. Or entirely predictable. But he’d looked into her eyes and she had seen the truth there. He had nothing to hide—and everything to give.
“I believe you.” The whispered words had barely left her lips before he covered them with his own. He kissed her deeply, erasing any further doubts.
Then he pulled away. “Are you sure? Last chance to change your mind.” He grinned, as if he knew there wasn’t a chance at all.
“I’m sure.” They kissed again, slower this time, until Charlotte’s insides melted like the hot chocolate in her brownie batter.
She turned her head slightly, pressing her cheek against his. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”
“Everyone heals in their own way, in their own timing.” Will rested his forehead against hers before dropping a kiss against her nose. “Though I have to say, I’m glad it didn’t take you any longer.”
She swatted him with her oven mitt, then pulled him back for another kiss. “I thought I wanted safe.”
“And I’m not?”
She smoothed the front of his shirt. “Safe is a bow tie. And suspenders.”
Will tilted his head as he considered her. “So, safe to you is an elderly banker?”
“No!” She swatted him again and laughed. “That’s what I always joke with Julie about. Bow tie and suspenders is my metaphor for some safe, predictable nerd. The opposite of a ladies’ man.” She hesitated. “Someone who won’t leave.”
“I get it. But safe can be way overrated.” He gestured around them at the bakery. “You probably see it all the time. You know when married couples cut their cake and feed each other at the reception?”
Charlotte blinked at him. “I have no idea where you’re going with this.”
“Safe is feeding each other wedding cake, nice and polite and without a mess and passing napkins afterward.”
He had a point. It sounded . . . a little boring, to be honest. Picture-perfect. Not entirely real.
He grinned down at her. “Wouldn’t you rather have someone who smears icing on your face—” His finger gently trailed the length of her cheek. “And then gently kisses it off?”
She drew a ragged breath at his proximity. That actually sounded amazing. Maybe she’d had it wrong all this time. Maybe God hadn’t sent her what she wanted because it hadn’t been what she and Zoe needed at all.
“See? Safety is vastly overrated.” He grinned and pulled her in for a tight hug. “Then again, for the record, I could probably rock a bow tie if I had to.”
“But that’s the best part.” She smiled up at him, trusting fully for the first time in a long time—maybe ever. “You don’t have to.”
“That might have been the most awkward toast in the history of toasts.” Will leaned close to whisper in Charlotte’s ear.
She giggled, nudging him with her elbow. “Shh. They’ll hear you.”
They’d suffered through several wedding speeches so far at Adam and Brittany’s rehearsal dinner, each one worse than the last. And he’d kept her laughing through all of them.
“I mean, come on. Pass the butter. That toast was dry.”
Charlotte snorted, and elbowed him harder in the ribs, the sudden motion clanking her used silverware against her discarded plate. The man at the table opposite them shot an amused glance over his shoulder, and Charlotte immediately blushed.
They needed to quit acting juvenile. But Will couldn’t help it. He loved the sound of her laughter. And before their big talk last Sunday in the bakery, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever get to provoke it again. He wanted to hear it while he could, and never take it for granted.
The mother of the bride took the platform for her turn, and Will tried to tune her out so he wouldn’t be tempted to tease again.
He pressed a kiss against Charlotte’s hair instead, glad she had been able to accompany him tonight, and happier still that Julie was able to babysit Zoe and give her the chance to come. They really should do something special for her friend as a thank-you. She’d even helped deliver the desserts earlier, before whisking Zoe back to their apartment for a promised game of Chutes and Ladders. Maybe he’d pick up a gift card, or ask Melissa to make one of those crafty signs for her that she occasionally sold online.
Charlotte’s marshmallow caramel apple cupcakes, each perched in a slow-rotating miniature Ferris Wheel, had earned an entire table over on the side of the banquet room. She’d thrown in some of her favorite double-chip brownies for the chocolate lovers as a last-minute addition—a side effect of her good mood the last few days.
A few last-minute wedding gifts filled another table. Will shook his head. At this rate, Adam and Brittany would be set with appliances, gift cards, and kitchen towels until their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Did newly married couples really need that much stuff?
Eloping was starting to look pretty good.
He slid his arm around the back of Charlotte’s chair. Make that really good.
Brittany’s mother finished her speech, blinking back tears as she expressed her joy over the upcoming ceremony. That was sweet. Sounded like something his mom might have said at Melissa’s rehearsal—had either of them been able to make it. He sobered, hating how the past seemed to constantly rear its head during moments like this—moments he should be able to just enjoy.
He shoved away the familiar guilt and clapped along with the others as Brittany’s mom left the platform with instructions for everyone to hit the dessert table. He stood, pulling Charlotte’s chair back for her, just as his cell phone vibrated in his pocket.
He motioned for Charlotte to get in line ahead of him, then checked the caller ID. Melissa. That was strange—she knew he was at the rehearsal tonight. Maybe she hadn’t meant to call. But no, now that he looked at his screen, she’d already tried calling three other times while it had been set on silent.
His heart stammered. He quickly stepped in line behind Charlotte and jabbed the accept button, plugging one ear with his free hand as the volume in the room increased with laughter and exclamations over the desserts. “Melissa? I can barely hear you.”
“Will.” Her voice, weaker than usual, registered faintly through the phone speaker. “I need help. I fell.”
Charlotte had no idea what had happened. She just knew there was no way Will could be driving the speed limit.
She watched the muscle in his jaw clench and unclench, watched his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, watched the agitated way he kept checking his rearview mirror as if daring a policeman to try and slow him down. “Is—is she okay?”
All she knew was they’d been standing in line to get a cupcake, when he’d grabbed her arm, said, “Melissa’s in trouble, we’ve got to go,” and ushered her out of the banquet room. It was the first time since she’d known him that he hadn’t opened the truck door for her.
He had barely given her time to climb in before he gunned it across the parking lot.
He either hadn’t heard her question or was ignoring her. She decided—for once—not to assume the worst, and repeated it. “Will? Is she okay?”
“I don’t know.” He bit the words off sharper than he probably meant to, but he didn’t apologize.
“What happened?”
“Don’t know that either.”
Not a very productive phone call, then. Charlotte swallowed back her defensiveness and took a deep breath to attempt to calm her ow
n nerves, reacting to his. He was obviously under a lot of stress and worried about his sister. She could forgive the lapse of manners.
And forget the questions. Guess she’d find out on the scene—wherever that was.
His truck screeched into the driveway of a small but cozy-looking yellow house. A wooden ramp climbed one side of the porch, concrete stairs laced in ivy on the other. A tiny picket fence lined the majority of the yard. He skidded to a stop and had his door open before the keys were even out of the ignition.
Charlotte hurried to catch up as he rushed toward the front door to what she presumed was Melissa’s house.
“Mel!” he bellowed, rattling the knob. “Mel! It’s me. Can you open the door?”
Charlotte’s heart rate kicked up a notch. What was going on? Had Melissa hurt herself? Had an accident? If so, why had she called Will and not 911? She didn’t understand.
“MEL!”
“It’s locked.” Her voice, tiny and exhausted, finally sounded from inside. She said something else Charlotte couldn’t catch, and she raised her eyebrows at Will. He shook his head, having missed it too. He looked ready to kick the door down.
“Do you have a key?”
“Yeah, somewhere.” He searched through his key ring, fingers shaking. “I never have to use it. She’s always home and has it unlocked when I come.” Judging by the trembling of his hands, he seemed full of enough adrenaline that Charlotte wondered if maybe he should kick in the door, just to release it.
He fumbled the keys twice, then dropped them. Charlotte took them from his unsteady hands. “Which one?”
“The red plated.”
She quickly inserted it into the lock and he wrenched the door open. “Mel! Where are you?”
“Kitchen.”
Charlotte followed him around the corner, through a cheerful living area decorated in aqua and coral. Melissa had good taste. She stopped short before she plowed into Will’s back.
“Oh, Mel.” This time, his voice sounded broken, more than angry or panicked. Then he rushed to her side, providing Charlotte her first view of Melissa, sprawled on the wooden floor. Petite, dark-haired, freckle-faced Melissa.
