“I shouldn’t have let things . . .” Jake began, pausing a moment before adding, “I should have respected the boundaries better, Cass, and I—”
Charlie interrupted him, desperately wanting to move past this gut-wrenching moment because she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep up this facade. “Again, you have nothing to be sorry for.” If anyone should be apologizing, it was Charlie. “How about we agree to just forget all about it, and move on?”
Jake looked surprised, and not in a good way, and Charlie immediately wanted to take back what she had said.
“Oh right. Sure thing,” he said, his face set in a frown.
“I’m sorry.” Charlie was flustered, hating that she had just hurt Jake and now wondering what he had been about to say before she interrupted him. “I just thought you meant—”
Jake took a small but meaningful step away from her then. “No worries. I completely understand. And probably for the best.”
“Probably for the best,” Charlie repeated. She offered Jake the warmest smile she could, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. “I hope we can be friends?”
“We already are friends, Cass,” Jake replied, his voice soft. “That won’t change.”
She nodded, tears welling up and taking her by surprise. To avoid Jake seeing how emotional she was, she bent down to retie one of her boot’s laces, glad for the temporary distraction.
“So, hey. It was nice running into you,” Jake said, now at the driver’s side door of his truck.
Charlie stamped her boots gently to rid the treads of snow, raising an eyebrow as she looked pointedly at Bonnie. The dog had her furry face pressed against the glass of the truck’s window, whining as she watched Charlie and Jake outside. “Quite literally.”
Jake laughed, but it was short and didn’t carry much joy. Charlie knew exactly how he felt.
* * *
? ? ?
“Walter, I’m back. Give me ten minutes and I’m all yours.” Charlie poked her head into the bakery, having come through the back entrance so she could take off her snow-damp coat and boots in the mudroom.
“Uh, Cass, I—” Walter had a look on his face that Charlie wasn’t sure how to read.
“Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s okay, but . . .” Walter glanced behind him, to the other side of the counter and Charlie wondered what the hell was going on. She was about to step into the bakery to see for herself, when someone stood up from behind Walter, now in view from where Charlie stood. “Someone’s here to see you.”
“Hi, Cass.” Brett.
“Brett, what are you doing here?” Charlie asked.
“We need to talk.” Brett crossed his arms. “Walter can finish up.”
“How about you don’t tell me how to run my bakery?” Charlie’s voice was tense with frustration, and the knee-jerk reaction to being told what to do by her sister’s ex-boyfriend.
“That’s not what I’m doing, Cass. Why are you always looking for a fight these days?”
Walter glanced between them. “Uh, I’m basically done here anyway. It’s fine.”
“It is not fine, Walter.” Charlie seethed, wanting to tell Brett right then and there who she was and that he needed to leave her sister the hell alone, once and for all. But she didn’t want to escalate the situation. The bakery was opening in a half hour. She could be done talking to Brett in five minutes, and still have a chance to grab a shower and get behind the counter in time for the first customer.
Charlie walked into the bakery and grabbed an apron, tying it quickly around her waist. “Walter, you can go. I’m good.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Go and enjoy your day.” Charlie poured herself a cup of coffee, not asking Brett if he needed a refill. She wondered how long he had been there. Walter quickly removed his apron before giving Cass one last questioning look. She smiled and mouthed she was okay, and then Walter nodded, grabbed his coat and hat, and was out the door.
The doorbells stopped chiming a few seconds after Walter left. Charlie took her cup of coffee and sat down at the table with Brett. “Okay, Brett. Let’s talk.”
15
Cass
Monday: 5 Days Until Christmas . . .
Los Angeles
It had been a long but disaster-free day on set. Cass had even garnered several compliments from Sasha, who appeared to be over the sourdough bread mask incident, and had convinced wardrobe to let her wear flats. She unlocked the door to her sister’s apartment, tossed down her bag, and kicked off her shoes. Now that she had her sister’s file, she didn’t have to spend her evenings developing recipes—just an hour or so testing them. She thought about running a bath and soaking her aching feet and body, but the couch was calling her name. She collapsed onto the sofa, TV remote in hand, with the idea of ordering something for dinner and watching mindless television for a while—but she soon drifted off. In that dreamlike state between awake and asleep, Miguel’s face appeared. She let herself drift away a little more. In her fantasy, they were surfing together. Cass was expertly catching wave after wave, remembering to relax and breathe into it, exactly the way he had told her. Miguel was grinning, proud of her—and then, they were kissing in the waves, like a scene straight out of From Here to Eternity . . .