“You okay, Molly?” Beth, one of the women in her group, asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
She smiled at her friend. “No ghost. Just an apparition from my past.”
“Who, Vespa Guy? Do you know him?”
Molly shook her head as if that might clear the sight of him from her mind. “I thought I did once, but that was a lifetime ago.”
“He works at that new patisserie on the corner of Seaview and Fifth Avenue,” one of the others offered.
Patisserie?Molly knew the one. She drove past it most days but, in spite of her passion for all things sweet, hadn’t yet been inside.
“I was in there last week,” Beth added. “He’s kinda hot in that broody way, so naturally, I snuck a peek.”
Molly laughed. “Naturally.”
“Well, what’s a girl to do when a sexy guy in an apron presents her with a delicious pastry? Look the other way and pretend not to notice?”
Still smiling, Molly strolled with her friends through the sunken garden and along the boardwalk, thoughts of Jesse Sinclair front and center as the rest of her group chatted back and forth.
They stopped at the bandstand, their usual goodbye point, and as the others headed off in their different directions, Molly found an empty bench seat and sat for a moment, wanting to arrange those restless thoughts into single file in her mind and march them off out into the ocean.
The balmy February dawn warmed her bones, and as she gazed across the bay at the threatening rain clouds to the north, Molly smiled, then tilted her face to the sky and closed her eyes. Moving to Clifton Falls from New York was always going to be a major adjustment, but she was happy here—content.
Sure, she’d enjoyed her time overseas, the bustle of big-city life, the food and the fashion, but Molly could never imagine settling in the States. It didn’t feel like home, and as time passed, she’d found herself increasingly overwhelmed by a sense of distance.
So, now that she was back, would she ever pluck up the courage to visit the patisserie, acknowledge Jesse when he said hello, and leave with no hard feelings attached or projected?
Of course she would. That’s what adults do, isn’t it? Recognize, address, move on.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and Molly opened her eyes again. With hands a touch shaky, she pulled it out and read the text from her cousin.
CeCe:Fancy something a little tarty for V Day?
Molly:Sorry NCD. I have a Zoom call first thing and a full day today. Tomorrow?
CeCe:Yeah, OK. Fig Leaf? Or I’ve heard that new patisserie on Seaview Road’s good.
Molly hesitated as she reread the wordsnew patisserie—once, twice. Again, her visceral reaction to the knowledge that Jesse was working in Clifton Falls surprised her. And in a patisserie. She hadn’t even realized he was a baker.
Molly:Okay.Let’s check out the patisserie.
She hitsendbefore she had the chance to change her mind. And, despite her earlier bravado, the regret was immediate. Nothing good would come of catching up with him again after all these years. That chapter of her life had been closed a long time ago.
CeCe:My day’s looking kinda full. Is 3:15-ish OK?
As Molly rose from the bench and strolled along the boardwalk toward her car, her reckless heart skipped a beat. She could do this.
Molly:Great. See you then.
CeCe:And you have mail. I’ll bring it along.
Molly:Thanks.
She slipped her phone back into the pocket of her hoodie, muttering a firm “pull yourself together, Parker” under her breath, and unlocked the driver’s door of her Suzuki. As she slid behind the wheel, Molly told herself there was no need to contemplate any future dealings with him. Jesse was just a guy from another time, another life.
However, as she drove away from the waterfront, thoughts of their last time together tiptoed into her mind, and Molly berated her body for acting this way without her permission.
Traitor.
