by Cameron Hart
Asher’s normal scowl softens a bit as is eyebrows lift up slightly in surprise. Like I said, just because I’m more laid back and don’t have my job as the number one priority in my life doesn’t mean I’m not good at what I do.
“Well…” Asher grunts. “Still doesn’t mean we have any room to slack. The minute you’re satisfied with where you are—”
“You aren’t there anymore,” both Declan and I finish for him.
“You gotta lay off dad’s trite business quotes, Ash,” I say.
“Trite? Trite? The man built this company from the ground up, you’d think that would earn him some respect.”
“The man was a douche canoe, and you know it,” I retort.
“Cooper…” Asher warns. He doesn’t like anyone speaking ill of dad. He’s loyal to a fault, though I suspect he caught the worst of dad’s manipulation and harmful words. None of us survived our childhood without some warped views on life.
I put my hands up in a sign of surrender. Asher drones on about whatever the fuck he was saying before he yelled at me, while my mind wanders back to my little kitten.
More specifically, I think about ways I can promote her business. I know she said she didn’t want my help, but I have to do something to prove that we are a good team and that I support her goals and dreams. What better way to do that then come alongside her and join forces to make her business more profitable? She clearly loves what she does and I heard her when she said she didn’t want to be a kept woman.
I almost pushed back when she told me that. Of course I don’t want to keep her locked up and control her every move. Ok, I might want to keep her locked up, just a little bit, but I won’t do that to her. I won’t suffocate her or snuff out her spark. I knew my words would be empty, however, so I decided to let it go until I could think of some actions to back them up with.
And now I have it.
When the brain trust meeting is finally over, I go back to my office and email a client who runs an online magazine. I send her over a link to the Mad Batter Bakery Instagram page, along with a short write-up about what brief history I got out of Sienna the other day and the location of the bakery.
The reply came back a few hours later saying the article would be up tomorrow. Good. I’m that much closer to breaking through to Sienna.
✽✽✽
The next day, I wait not so patiently, reloading the homepage of NYC Sweets every two minutes. Finally, finally, I see the article pop up. There’s a huge featured image of the cake Sienna made for Declan and Luna’s wedding. I click into the article and see they even called and got a quote from Luna about working with Sienna to create her dream cake. The article gives some background about how Sienna has been in New York for about a year, how she learned everything she knows from her grandma. The rest of the article is filled with images embedded from the bakery’s Instagram, which really speaks for itself.
It’s perfect. I’m sure Sienna will be getting calls for custom orders as soon as this afternoon. I want to go sit in her bakery all day and wait for her to figure it out. She’ll probably be annoyed at first, but once she gets over her pride and business starts to pick up, she’ll see I was right. Not that this is about that at all. I’m not about playing the I told you so game, especially not with her. I just want her to see I support her and am willing to do what it takes to see her succeed.
I stare at my phone, willing her to call me. I gave her my number all those days ago, but she has yet to use it. I hope she didn’t throw the card away. It doesn’t matter though. Soon enough we’ll be married and spending all of our time together.
Declan emails me about a new client and I get caught up in the onboarding process. It’s just as well. I need a distraction before I go fucking crazy. If I don’t hear from Sienna by the end of the work day, I’ll just drop by her shop.
Three hours later, my cell rings with an unknown number. It has to be her.
“Si—”
“What did you do, you fucking bastard?”
I’m stunned, shocked into silence by the rage behind Sienna’s voice.
“The artic—”
“Fuck you, I can’t believe you betrayed me! I told you I didn’t want your help!”
“Are you getting more business at least?” I have no idea where this anger is coming from, so I try to divert the attention away from me and back to her bakery.
“I don’t want to be found,” she says, a desperate edge to her tone. My heart stops in my fucking chest at her words. “The bakery, I mean,” she’s quick to say. I don’t believe her for a second but I play along.
“Why wouldn’t you want people to discover the bakery?”
“It’s not all about money for everyone, you know. I like my business the way it is. I like being local, catering to people who care enough about small business to get to know me and my product.”
What she’s saying makes sense, on some level, and she does have conviction behind her words. I didn’t consider that she enjoyed her quiet bakery and that her lack of marketing was intentional. That being said, I think there’s more to it than that. She wouldn’t be so angry otherwise.
“Can I come over? I want to talk to you in person.”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Please, kitten—”
“NO! You don’t fucking call me that, you have no right. I can’t believe you betrayed me. No, scratch that. I totally believe it.”
Her words pierce me. Pain like I’ve never known spreads across my chest.
“Sienna, I swear my intentions were good. I’m so sorry I hurt you, please let me come over so we can talk.”
“Your intentions mean fuck all right now, Cooper. I can’t… Shit, I can’t… You have no idea what you’ve done.” She sounds defeated and distant, like she’s playing out some scenario in her head.
“Please,” I beg her, not sure what else to do. “I need to see you. How can I fix this? Tell me what to do and it’s done.”
“Goodbye, Cooper.”
“No, Sienna, please…” She already hung up.
“FUCK!” I yell, gripping my phone tightly in my hand, resisting the urge to throw it against the wall. The only thing stopping me is the fact that she called me, which means I have her number now.
It takes everything in me not to call her right back. I know she wouldn’t answer me anyway, and I don’t want her to feel suffocated. Taking a calming breath, I try to think rationally about this and come up with a plan. Only, I can’t think rationally when it comes to my Sienna. And game plans have never really been my thing.
Declan, on the other hand, is a planner. A few months ago, I would have scoffed at the idea of going to Declan for relationship advice, but Luna changed everything. I want to be the one to change everything for Sienna, but I realize now it has to be on her terms. I can’t steamroll her, I can’t make her trust me. She has to decide that on her own, and I didn’t help my cause any by going over her head and doing the thing she didn’t want me to do.
There’s more to her story, of that I am sure. But I can get to that later. Right now, I need to find Declan and get his help.
Chapter 5
Sienna
I closed the bakery after I got off the phone with Cooper. I’m livid, practically foaming at the fucking mouth. Good thing Mandy’s shift was already over by the time I figured out what Cooper did.
It started with a call for a custom order for some socialite’s eighteenth birthday. Sure, I haven’t done many custom orders in the time I’ve been open, but I expected some business after doing the cake for Luna and Declan. By the time the third custom order came in within the span of a few hours, I knew something was up. I asked the lady how she heard about Mad Batter, and she said there was an article online, NYC Sweets. My hand shook so hard I almost dropped the phone. I thanked her and grabbed my laptop.
Sure enough, there was an article posted a few hours earlier. Fear squeezed my heart and robbed me of my breath. There was enough information in the arti
cle for anyone to find me. Ok, so I’m not so much worried about anyone finding me. I’m worried about her finding me. After our last conversation, seeing the state she was in, I have no doubts she’d figure out a way to get revenge by any means necessary.
I’m hunkered down in my apartment now, hiding under my covers like a fucking coward. I can’t help it. My body refuses to move even one inch. Every little noise makes me jump out of my skin. A thin sheen of sweat is covering my body, but I don’t remove my blankets. I know they won’t actually protect me if anything happens, but it’s something.
Stupid tears prick my eyes and I flinch when I hear someone pounding on the bakery door downstairs. I know it can’t be her. Last time I checked, she’s still in Cali, which means there’s no way she could have gotten here this fast. But tell that to my anxiety.
“Sienna, please let me fix this.”
It’s Cooper. He sounds strained, frazzled, out of control. It’s nothing like the easy-going, smug yet charming voice I’m used to from him. I ache all over just thinking about him, let alone being so close to him.
I didn’t think he’d gotten so far under my skin, but each word of that article felt like a fucking knife in my back. Even without all of the trying to stay hidden shit, the fact that he just ignored my requests and did whatever he wanted to do anyway only confirmed that he is the controlling, manipulative asshole I was worried about from the very beginning.
I shouldn’t care this much, it shouldn’t hurt this much, but god, it does. I wanted to believe him. Shit, I did believe him when he said he wouldn’t hurt me, when he said he could be patient. Yeah fucking right. If I weren’t shackled to my bed by fear, I’d storm downstairs and claw his fucking face off. I’d show him exactly how much of a kitten I am. How sweet I can be.
“Just tell me you’re ok. I’m worried out of my goddamn mind, I’ve been texting you all night.”
All night? I thought it was only three…
I look at my phone, ignoring the dozens of messages from Cooper, and see it’s ten p.m. Shit. I didn’t think I fell asleep, but hours are missing from my evening. More importantly, that means she could very well be here, looking for me. Waiting for me. She probably isn’t. But it’s not out of the realm of possibility.
“Baby, please. I don’t want to, but I’ll call the cops. I need to know you’re ok. I fucked up, I know that. We don’t have to talk, I just need to know you’re ok.”
I unlock my phone and scroll through Cooper’s texts, not reading a single one. I type out a brief message.
Me: I’m fine.
Cooper: Thank you.
I wait for him to say something more, to grovel, I guess, or beg me or promise me the world, but he doesn’t. Which is fine. I just want him to go away. Don’t I? Why am I listening for his voice downstairs? Why do I suddenly feel so lonely knowing he’s walking away?
✽✽✽
I didn’t open the bakery the next day. Or the day after. I told Mandy I was sick and she could have the rest of the week off.
This morning, however, I woke up with a newfound determination. She hasn’t come knocking at my door yet, which means she probably didn’t see the article and I’ve just been freaking out for no reason. Even if she is after me, I refuse to live in fear anymore. Too much of my life was wasted hiding away.
I woke up this morning and stared down at the first tattoo I got, the day I turned eighteen. It’s on the inside of my forearm, right below the crook of my elbow.
Be you, bravely.
From that day forward, I did what I had to do to get the fuck out of the life I was living. Worked two jobs, stole money from my mom’s loser boyfriends, even sold some pills my mom scored from the dealer she was fucking at the time. I’m not proud of that last one, but I was desperate.
No matter what I did, how much I made, how much I saved, I still couldn’t get out of the trailer park we lived in. Oakland felt more and more like a prison with each passing day. My mom was getting worse, so I ended up paying the bills. Turns out she took a few credit cards out in my name and proceeded to max them out. I was saddled with debt from the moment I was legally an adult.
All of that changed when my Grams died. Even though she only lived across the water in San Francisco, I didn’t get to see her much. Our visits went from once every few weeks, to every few months, and then just on holidays. I know mom had a lot to do with that, and I don’t blame Grams for not wanting to fight with her all the time. It hurt, nonetheless, to feel abandon by the only person in my life who liked me. When she died right after my nineteenth birthday, she left everything to me. Her house, her life insurance money, her savings, family heirlooms. All of it was mine.
And I knew just what to do with it. I moved as far away as I could and started a bakery.
My bakery.
I won’t let anyone or anything take it away from me. And besides, I have some custom orders to get started on.
I finally roll out of bed and take a few deep breaths before getting dressed and heading downstairs to the shop.
I yelp in surprise when I see a large figure standing by the front door, but then sigh with relief when I see it’s Cooper. My heart still beats out of control, but it’s not so much out of fear.
I unlock the door and open it up to find the man I’ve been dreaming about, the man I’m furious with, the man I can’t help but miss. Cooper. He’s as stunning as ever, of course, but he looks a bit run down.
“Sienna,” he says, sounding relieved.
“Cooper,” I respond, trying to sound neutral. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been here the last two mornings, hoping to catch you. But you haven’t been around.”
I nod, but don’t offer any other information. There’s a sticky note on the front door from UPS, saying I missed a package yesterday, but they’d be back this afternoon to deliver it. Strange. I don’t remember ordering anything.
“How are you doing? I mean, are you… is everything ok?”
I look over my shoulder at Cooper, who is rubbing the back of his head in a nervous gesture. I want to be mad at him. And I am. But I can’t deny the fact that I feel safer now that he’s around. I’d like to shoo him off, but I want to soak up a little more of his comfort while I still can.
“I’m fine. Just needed a few days to myself.”
“Can we talk? I feel like you’re not telling me something. Are you in danger?”
“No,” I lie. “I just freaked out. I hate that you went behind my back like that. I hate that you ignored my wishes and did whatever the fuck you wanted to do. I know men like you, men who push an agenda, me who can’t take ‘no’ for an answer.” Well, so much for not pushing him away. I’m sure he’s going to walk out now, taking all of his warmth with him.
Cooper doesn’t say anything, so I turn around to look at him. I’m shocked to see he looks absolutely stricken. I have the urge to hug him, but I don’t.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “I did that. I…” His brow is furrowed in anguish, and he’s more talking to himself than to me.
“Cooper…” I don’t know what to say, but my stupid heart is breaking at seeing him like this.
He looks up at me, and I swear I see unshed tears in his eyes. It almost makes me want to cry, seeing him in this much pain.
“Baby, I’m so sorry. I know you have no reason to believe me, but I swear to you, I’m not that guy. I wanted to show you that we would make a good team, that I want to support your goals and you won’t ever be a kept woman. But I see now that I violated your trust.”
I shouldn’t believe him, but god help me, I do. It doesn’t change the fact that he could have potentially put me in harm’s way, but I believe him when he says he just wanted good things for me and my business.
I’m overcome with so many emotions, but I can’t seem to voice any of them. I still want to be upset with him, I don’t want to let him off the hook that easily. I know, very mature of me. I give Cooper a curt nod and continue walking to the back room s
o I can start baking.
Since I’ve been out for the last two days, I have a lot to do if I want to open on time. That makes me realize what time it is, and specifically, that Cooper was already outside of the door when I got downstairs.
“You’ve been here the last two mornings.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“Yeah. I wanted to see you face to face.”
“But… it’s barely four-thirty in the morning.”
Cooper shrugs, following me into the back room. He starts getting pans out for me and measuring cups. I don’t need half the stuff he’s pulling out of drawers and shelves, but it’s a sweet gesture all the same.
“It’s not like I was sleeping anyway,” he says, grabbing the five-pound bag of flour I was reaching for.
I look at him and quirk my head to the side. “Why not?”
He stares at me for a second, like he’s trying to figure me out.
“Because I fucked things up with you,” he says as if it’s obvious. “Because every hour I didn’t see you or hear from you felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest. I swear I actually thought I was having a heart attack last night, but it turns out it was a panic attack. I couldn’t stand the thought of never seeing you again. I’m so fucking sorry, Sienna.”
I don’t even know what to say to all of that. He really does care about me, that much is evident. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, I can hear the exhaustion and pain in his voice. I look in his deep blue eyes, seeing the way they’re pleading for me to give him another chance. The man had a fucking panic attack, the least I can do is let him hang around and talk if that’s what he wants, right? I hear the voice in the back of my head telling me not to fall for it, not to let anyone inside, not to give him even one inch of space in my heart.
