Page 7 of Suddenly Yours

I flinched. Actual physical flinch. I wanted to remind her that she was currently in a messy divorce with my father, but I bit my tongue.

“Mom,” I said quietly, clenching my hands until my nails pressed into my palms, “Levi cheated on me.” I held back from saying You know how that feels. “Plus, I’m not just making cupcakes. I own a bakery. A successful one.”

“Oh, Melissa.” Neither of my parents had ever called me by my preferred nickname. It was beneath them. “People like us don’t own small bakeries. They own larger businesses, franchises, or they marry into wealth. They don’t throw away their future to… frost things.”

I let out a slow breath, staring out at the empty store. “I have customers lining up outside my door every morning.”

“But for how long? It’s not stable. It’s not respectable. You could still go back to school. Or do something more… substantial.”

Like Levi. That’s what she meant. A “substantial” man with a “substantial” job and a “substantial” life plan she wanted me to fit inside like a decorative lamp.

Even though my mother was currently miserable, thanks to my father, who ran around with whatever young dancer he could convince that week, it didn’t stop her from wanting me to do my time with a wealthy man like she had.

I swallowed hard. “I’m not moving back. I’m not changing my mind. I love what I’m doing.”

Her silence was icy and heavy. Finally, she broke it with a soft, breathy sigh. “I just worry, sweetheart. I just want what’s best for you.”

What she meant: what looks best for her.

“Thanks for calling,” I said, forcing gentleness I didn’t feel. At least she’d called. I hadn’t heard from my father since she’d filed the divorce papers shortly before Max and Cora’s wedding. “I have to go now, lots of work still to do.”

I hung up before she could answer. I knew I’d pay for that later.

My throat felt tight for the rest of the day. I finally locked up shortly after five that evening and walked home in the dying sunlight.

Luckily, home was only a block away, just past Serenity’s Attic, with its brightly painted doors, dangling wind chimes, and permanent smell of patchouli drifting into the street like a scented fog. Crystal Holley had painted the storefront purple, teal, and sunshine yellow, claiming the colors brought joy. My bakery, with its clean white exterior and polished windows, looked like a responsible, slightly uptight sibling standing next to it.

Maybe I should shake things up out front too? Paint the exterior a bright frosting pink? Maybe when I officially owned the building in a few months after my last payment to Crystal.

Crystal and Rory had been so kind to me. Not only were they allowing me to do a lease-to-own on the bakery building, but they were kind enough to rent out the top floor of their home, Holley Hall, to me until I could find another apartment in town. The building was one of the oldest homes in the area, a tall classic beauty with high arched windows, charming trim, and a history that Crystal could recount in thirty-minute family stories.

My apartment was accessible by an outdoor staircase at the back of the building, which creaked under my feet in a good, historic way rather than a “this might collapse” way. I climbed to the top floor, unlocked my door, and stepped into my sanctuary.

Warm hardwood floors stretched through the entire space. The wide planks were stained a deep honey brown that glowed in the late afternoon light. The living room opened up directly from the entryway and the tall ceilings were decorative, with rich thick beams that reminded me of old European flats my family vacationed at several times in my youth.

My couch, the only piece of furniture in the room, sat beneath a row of windows that overlooked the picture-perfect backyard.

The kitchen was small but perfect for what I needed. It had freshly painted white cabinets, stone countertops, and a little island I used more for taste-testing than actual meal prep.

Two bedrooms sat on either side of the main hallway. The larger one I used as a bedroom, the smaller one as office and storage space for the rest of my things, which I had yet to unpack.

Each bedroom had its own bathroom, complete with the vintage charm that I loved about old buildings: pedestal sinks, classic tile, and a clawfoot tub in mine that convinced me the universe wanted me to take bubble baths.

I slipped off my shoes, letting my toes sink into the soft rug I’d laid down on the wood floors in the living room. My shoulders loosened, my jaw unclenched, and for the first time in hours, I let myself breathe without forcing it.

My life, messy and busy and always covered in flour and sugar, was all mine. Not even my parents could take it away at this point.

My parents might never understand that.

I dropped my keys into the dish by the door and leaned back against the wall, letting the quiet settle around me like a warm blanket.

Shower. I wanted—no, scratch that—I needed a shower. I walked back to my bathroom, peeled off my clothes, and stepped into the shower. I screamed when the ice-cold water hit me. Since I was already wet, I scrubbed quickly, taking less than a minute to clean up before switching off the water.

Right. At that moment I remembered that Cade had reminded me that morning that he was replacing the water heaters for the entire house. Each floor was getting its own tankless device. He had started downstairs and was finishing up with my floor. He’d reminded me at least three times during breakfast that I wouldn’t have hot water, possibly for the whole day.

I groaned. God, I needed a hot shower or a bath. I wrapped a thick towel around me and shivered.

“Damn you, universe,” I cursed under my breath as I shivered again.