Just Desserts (7 page)

Jules: Again, you are a lovely person to think so, but I’d be rather sad if I didn’t receive my weekly update from you regarding my order and my well-being, my father’s well-being, what episode of Downton Abbey I’m up to now, or debate the merits of a female Dr. Who. However
,
if you feel it’s for the best, we can only exchange emails once a month.

If she and Jules condensed their exchanges to once a month, it wouldn’t be that much of… Suddenly, she got a funny feeling in her stomach.

She would miss talking to Jules each week, she realized.

Ridiculous, maybe, but true. Sometimes it seemed like she talked to Jules more than she did Glen, but then, Jules listened to her. Glen mostly grunted and crashed, claiming he was tired.

Jules: Daisy…? I apologize if I’ve overstepped.

Daisy: NO! We can change your order to save money, but, um, we can still talk each week, if you want.

Jules: I’d like that. And Daisy…

Daisy: Yes?

Jules: You have no idea how much your weekly emails (and cupcakes) have helped. Thank you.

Warmth spread through her, down to the tips of her toes. It was nice to be appreciated, for someone to acknowledge the little things. Glen wouldn’t notice if she walked through the house wearing nothing but do-me-now red lipstick.

Daisy: They mean a lot to me, too, Jules.

Jules: Would it be odd if I chatted you up more often? The American version of chatting, not English, that is. Glen has nothing to worry about. In fact, he’s welcome to join in again.

Jules was so thoughtful, so not Glen.

She smiled at the computer screen, and then guilt pricked at her, quick and sharp, though there was nothing inappropriate about her relationship with Jules. Heck, Glen had talked to Jules, several times. They’d given each other a hard time over sports. Something about football versus rugby.

Daisy: Let me think about it.

Jules: Of course. Good night.

Daisy: Night.

Taking a deep breath, she cleared her thoughts. If she and Glen were going to work out, she had to stop comparing Jules to him. It wasn’t fair of her to do so, and if she didn’t stop, then she’d have no choice but to stop talking to Jules. As much as she hated the whole “owed it to him” saying, she did think Glen deserved a second chance. Years of friendship before it turning into more had been the total basis for trying to work things out.

She set her laptop to one side and jumped out of bed to fix herself a little snack, padding across her bedroom and into the hallway, the wooden floor creaking as she went. Along the way, she paused in the living room to check to see if Glen’s truck was in the drive.

Pushing the sheer curtains aside, she peeked through the window. The space beside her Honda was empty.

Where was Glen?

She frowned.

He hadn’t texted or called to let her know he’d be late. Something he’d been doing a lot lately, and had been blaming on his extra work duties. But honestly, how much of an extra workload could a high school history teacher/assistant football coach have in the off-season?

Maybe it had been a mistake to get back together with him, or to allow him to move in with her, since his lease had been up and they were planning to get engaged someday anyway…or so he had implied. Maybe she’d just been too darn lonely to say no.

But this was Glen. Her Glen. Someone she’d known since seventh grade.

Walking to the kitchen, she shook her head and muttered, “I love Glen and he loves me. There’s no reason at all to think that he broke up with me right before the holidays so he wouldn’t have to buy me a gift and then got back together once his lease had been up.”

Cici’s claws tapped on the floor as she ran up to Daisy, wagging her little stump of a tail and banishing Daisy’s less than charitable thoughts of her now on-again boyfriend.

Daisy knelt on the floor to pet her sweet puppy, if she could call a five-year-old, fifty-two pound dog of indeterminable origins a puppy, but Cici was having none of that and decided she’d rather be a lapdog, tackling her.

Laughing, Daisy fell on her butt, wet sloppy kisses covering her face. “Need a little attention, do you?” Gosh, she loved this dog. Three years ago, when she and Glen had first found Cici at the shelter, an instant connection had been made. They had taken one look at that dog’s blue and brown eyes and fallen in love.

The back door swung open. Glen walked in, a smile on his face when Cici bounded over to him.

Wasn’t there a saying about dogs being a good judge of people?

Slowly, she rose to her feet, dusting off her pajama bottoms. “I was getting worried about you. I made you an extra plate, and I can heat it up if you’re ready.”

The smile faded from Glen’s face. “It’s not want I want.”

“
But you don’t know what I cooked tonight,” she said.

He held out his hands, palms up. “I mean, this isn’t what I want. You’re not what I want.”

A ball of what felt like dough that’d been left out in the open for too long hit the bottom of her stomach. “It isn’t? I’m not?” she croaked.

“
Oh Lazy-Daisy—” Her eye twitched at his juvenile nickname. She’d always hated when he’d call her by it. “Not really. I’ve been thinking and I’m not
in
love with you anymore. Well, I love you, but more like a friend. There’s no spark, no life to our relationship, and I’m bored. Gina told me to give you another chance, so I did, but it’s not working.”

“
Who’s Gina?” she asked, anger merging with furious to make one ticked off baker.

“
She’s the new guidance counselor at work,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a small child. “I told you all about her.”

Crossing her arms, she pursed her lips. “No, you didn’t.”

“
Like you listen to anything I say,” he scoffed. “You’re too busy baking and talking to some guy in England.”

Blood rushed to her face, heating it. How dare he turn this on her? “Excuse me? I
own
a bakery, and Jules is a customer.”

Glen smirked. “You talk to all of your customers that often?”

In fact, there were some she talked to every day and knew everything about, including when their next doctor appointments were and who had hemorrhoids. So sue her if she had a lot of senior citizens for customers. “Don’t make what Jules and I have into something dirty.”

Petting Cici, he motioned for the dog to go to bed. She went happily and Daisy wished she could join her.

“
I didn’t.”

“
Yes, you did.” She swallowed and briefly closed her eyes. “Did you cheat on me, Glen?”

“
Only in my heart, with Gina. We really love each other. It’s a mature love, with a woman who has less baggage than you. I can’t handle your baggage.”

Gaping at his answer, she fought back the tears of anger and frustration. Any love she felt for him was gone, and for it to have left so easily meant it hadn’t really been there in the first place. At least, not this time. “You’re my baggage, you asshat!”

He cocked his head to one side, a move that she normally thought was endearing, but now it made her want to smack him. “Don’t be mad, honey. A clean break is what’s best for both of us.”

Pressing her fingers to her temples, she tried to process their conversation. This Glen wasn’t the Glen she loved in high school, or the Glen that had been there for her when her momma had died. No, this Glen was unrecognizable. They’d grown apart while growing up.

Hurt raked through her. How could he do this? How could he have led her on? Oh, she knew how, because she had let him.

“
Get out of my house.”

He blinked at her. “Right this minute?”

“
You said it yourself—a clean break is what’s best for both of us. So why draw it out, Glen? Get your crap and leave,” she said, proud that her voice didn’t waver. No matter what, she would be strong.

“
Fine,” he snapped, marching out of the room.

While he packed, she paced the kitchen and began to pull out the items she needed to bake…something. By the time she had out everything but the milk and butter, Glen was back, one large suitcase in each hand and Cici on his heels.

“
Where am I supposed to go?” he asked.

She set the whisk in her hand down on the counter, more for his safety than hers. “Try Gina’s. I’m sure she could counsel you on what to do next.”

He glanced away from her. “She still lives with her ex.”

Daisy snorted. “You both are idiots.”

“
Yeah, well, you suck in bed,” Glen snapped.

“
That’s entirely your fault, since you’re the only guy I’ve ever slept with,” she replied sweetly. “Maybe Gina will teach you something new, since I’m the only woman you’ve ever slept with.” A fact that had thrilled Daisy to no end. Maybe she could hold on to that memory of him.

“
You’re not the only woman,” he mumbled, his cheeks heating.

“
What?” She could barely choke out the word.

“
Gina and I, after we broke up…we—”

“
She’s the reason why we haven’t had sex in the past two and a half months?”

His gaze flew to hers. “You’ve been counting the days?”

She stared back at him, more stupefied than ever. “Just get out, Glen.”

“
God, you’re a bitch when you want to be.” He turned and Cici followed, wagging her tail. It was at that moment Daisy noticed the leash.

“
Not Cici,” Daisy cried, trying to grab the leash, but Glen simply blocked her body with his and her hands fell helplessly to her sides.

“
She likes me better, and you know it,” Glen said.

Daisy did know it, but it still hurt for him to say the words. “But she’s
our
dog.”

“
Not anymore,” he said. “Let’s go, Cici.” The dog only whined once and then followed Glen out the door, her little stump of a tail wagging happily.

Daisy managed to keep it together. She didn’t utter a sound as the door shut, or as she heard the car start up and back down her driveway. But as soon as she heard him hit the gas, she sank to the floor in a crumpled heap and cried her eyes out.

Why hadn’t she stood up to him? Why hadn’t she refused to let Cici go?

Because Glen would more than likely grow tired of caring for Cici, like he had before, and he’d call Daisy to come get her, the rational part of her brain reminded her. All Daisy would have to do is be patient.

“
I can be patient and strong,” Daisy whispered.

Refusing to cry any more tears over that asshat, she scrubbed her tears away and stood, marching to her bedroom. She grabbed her laptop and plopped down on the bed, messaging the first person that came to mind.

This time, it wasn’t Isabella, her best friend since first grade. It wasn’t Haven, who’d been her other best friend since ninth grade.

Daisy: Jules! I need you. Please!

Oh God. Why had she done that? Feeling foolish, she moved the mouse to delete and—

Jules: I’m here, darling.

Her hands froze for a moment, and then she began to type. Her hands shook so much that her sentences ran together in places, but she didn’t care. She had to get everything out.