Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
The police don’t get in touch over the next few days.
It’s back to business as usual.
The papers online aren’t revealing much either, but it’s making me antsy. How weird is it that I’m more bothered by the radio silence than the fact that I could’ve been openly targeted by hitmen?
Of course, everyone’s talking about it at the shop—and talking about me.
I don’t catch much besides muffled words that always stop as soon as I step into the room.
But that’s how you know—it’s the hissing whispers and wide-eyed looks whenever I turn my back or when they don’t think I’m looking. The sidelong glances, the obsessive interest, the oozing sympathy.
I definitely don’t need more sympathy.
Dexter and I are done.
Even our involvement in the same harrowing crime case feels like an echo from the past.
“Well, I heard Haute hired a big-time lawyer for over a million dollars,” Sarah whispers to Emmy. Now that Emmy and Jake are officially dating, the two girls have made up remarkably fast.
“Just one mil? I reckon it was more like two.”
“He’ll do anything to stay out of prison. It’s almost like saving face when Big Fish kicked his butt.”
“Well, yeah,” Emmy says, rolling her eyes. “He’s the one who got Haute arrested, right?”
I keep rolling pastry in the kitchen, fighting to tune them out.
Roll twist. Roll flip. Flour.
They don’t notice the door’s open and I can hear every word. Maybe they don’t care.
But I just don’t have the energy to face them, to see the questions dancing on their faces, let alone the pity.
“I can’t believe he was so brave. He always seemed like the type who wouldn’t get his hands dirty,” Sarah says.
“Yeah, I’m surprised, too. The man’s filthy rich and way too polished,” Emmy huffs out. “But for Junie, I guess he reverts back to caveman.”
“But she wasn’t there…”
“Does it matter?” Emmy sighs wistfully. “You just know he was thinking of her. I bet she’s all he thinks about. I knew it when I saw his eyes.”
“Seriously?” Jake pipes up from the back. “You guys have been talking about this case all week.”
“Because you’re jealous, boy,” Sarah teases. “Better step it up and save Emmy from zombie muggers or something if you ever want to be top dog around here.”
Emmy laughs.
Despite how ridiculous it is, there’s something warm and lumpy in my chest. Like love, jealousy, and the heated wave of tears.
But I won’t cry again at work. That would be triple ridiculous.
I start cutting little pastry cases out once the dough gets thin. We’re doing little lemon posset tarts—something tangy and sharp to balance all the obscene sweetness we sell.
I promise you it’s not inspired by a heartbreaking man who was born without a sweet tooth.
“…do you think she’s okay, though? I haven’t seen him around here for a while, not since they were fighting,” Emmy whispers.
Oh, so they do know I might hear them then.
“Junie?” There’s a loud ceramic clunk as Sarah pulls out some mugs. I can imagine her fumbling. She always was the clumsy one. “I dunno, she hasn’t said much. But it’s a lot to process.”
“Yeah. I wondered if maybe we should, like, give her something… Like moral support, y’know.”
“What, a sympathy card? Flowers?” Sarah snorts sarcastically. “She doesn’t need flowers for not getting kidnapped, Em. She just needs her man.”
Sarah’s not wrong and it punts my heart right through the roof.
Thankfully, they drift back to talking about school and celebrity scandals.
Then there’s a crashing sound.
“Oh, shit!” Sarah swears loudly. Another crash. “Whoops!”
Rest In Peace, mugs.
I roll my eyes as I wash my hands, wondering how many dishes I’ll have to replace this time. Good help is so hard to find.
“Get Junie. Grab her right now!” Sarah hisses.
Emmy bursts into the kitchen a second later.
“The door wasn’t shut,” she says blankly.
“No,” I say. “What did you guys break today?”
“Oh, um, just a mug or two but it’s not about that.” Emmy’s slightly wild eyes meet mine and my stomach drops.
“Big Fish,” I say, keeping the hope out of my voice.
“He just came in! You need to come right now.”
Lord, the man has the worst timing in human history.
My hair’s frizzing in this heat, I’m covered in flour, and I’m wearing an old blouse with a couple small holes in it under my apron, courtesy of Catness.
Shit.
I speed wash my hands until the hot water scalds me and I jerk my hands back. Soap, lather, fingernails, rinse. Pastry flour likes to get everywhere.
“Are you okay?” Emmy whispers with a concerned look. “Here, take off the net.”
I rip the net off my hair and hand it to her.
“How do I look?” There’s no point in pretending I’m not absolutely shitting myself. They already must suspect it was a breakup even if they don’t know the what or why.
They also don’t know it wasn’t a real relationship to begin with.