Retta swallowed hard. She didn’t want to betray her cousin’s confidence. If she had something to say to Chris, she would reach out. “I can’t do that.”
He nodded, but his eyes welled.
Oh, crap. This was the first time she was seeing him cry. He always seemed too in control and self-important to display such emotions.
She shoved her hand in one of the bags she was still wearing, searching for tissue.
“Chris, I’m sorry—”
Her words were cut off by a choppy sob he let out.
“I-is. This. How. You. Felt. When. We. Broke. Up?” he asked loudly as tears soaked his chin.
There was a part of her that wanted to balk at his question. She didn’t spend close to a year acting like everything was peachy just to admit to him she’d been angry and hurt over their breakup, but he was clearly distraught. Whatever modicum of pride she’d tried to maintain through cool indifference didn’t matter anymore. The man was open-mouth crying in front of her.
“Kind of,” she said, handing him a napkin. “It didn’t really come at the best time for me. And you dating my cousin after didn’t help.”
After wiping his tears and blowing his nose, Chris sat there staring off into the distance.
This could be her in a few hours on her best friend’s couch once she talked to Duncan, but then she’d figure out how to move on just like she’d moved on from Chris.
“Can I give you some advice?” Retta asked.
He didn’t respond, but he looked at her, waiting.
“I would give her time. I don’t know if she wants anything to do with you, but the worst thing you could do right now is try to pursue her,” Retta said.
Chris nodded, taking a shuddering breath before standing up and walking to the door. She followed behind with growing buoyancy in her body.
“Thanks for speaking to me,” he said, once he took a step outside. “I know with our past you didn’t have to.”
Retta nodded. “Have a good evening. And good luck.”
The resounding ring of the bell as she closed the door made her feel like she’d finally shut that chapter in her life. Now for the new one.
It was close to the end of the workday for Duncan when he went outside to change the sidewalk signage. As it was customary, he looked over to the front area of the Dutch Oven. He didn’t know what he expected to find there other than cold concrete. It had only been a few days since the divorce party, but he’d contemplated long and hard about how he’d approach Retta.
His impulse was to walk over to her store or show up at her apartment and tell her what he was feeling. But if he was going to give this relationship thing a go, he had to do it right. Romance was the name of the game.
He thought of doing something with Post-it notes or sending her tickets to the drive-in theatre screeningRockynext month. With all the options and what was at stake, Duncan had become nervous he’d blow his chance. However, he’d given himself till the end of the week to make a move.
As he stood back to look at his altered sign, the door to Retta’s bakeshop opened. She should’ve been home at this time. Dammit. He could quickly step inside the gym and avoid her, especially since he hadn’t been to his barber in weeks, but he didn’t want to. It had been too long since he’d seen her.
Pushing back his shoulders, he waited for her to exit. However, when someone stepped out, it was Christopher. Duncan stopped breathing. Her ex was technically single now, but she wouldn’t get back with him. Would she? Retta’s profile was only visible for a few seconds before she closed the door.
Maybe she wasn’t over him, and this profession that he’d been constructing in his head was not going to be well received. The thought made his stomach roll. Wouldn’t that be some sick joke to have the woman he wanted to seriously be with for the first time not want him back?
As Christopher passed him on the way to the parking lot, he looked Duncan in the eye and nodded. Was that smugness? Had he made a formal request for her to forget how he’d broken her heart? Before Duncan could talk himself out of it, he was eliminating the distance between him and the front of her store. The door swung open almost immediately after he’d knocked.
“Wh—” Retta’s eyes widened.
God, how he’d missed gazing into those eyes that looked like churning vats of dark chocolate.
“Hi,” she said as she adjusted one of the several bags strapped to her body. “Come in.”
Good sign. She was receptive to talking to him.
“How are you?” he asked.
