“Does that mean it will take years?”
“It might.” Mom gives me a sad smile. “But if London is someone you want in your life, then she deserves to be the one in control of how that works.”
She’s right. If I told London the truth right now would she even believe me? Would it change anything if she did? I’m still the guy who broke her shop. For the first time in my life, I need to stop and think before I ruin things again. Changing the past isn’t what’s important; I have to change myself. Because there’s nothing more that I want than a second chance with London, but I have to be worthy of that chance. Worthy of her. And the truth is, years later, I’m still not a good enough man for her. Because I’m still not the man I want to be.
That changes now.
“Anyone want a baby?” Lennox asks, breaking the silence in the kitchen. “He just exploded through three different outfits.”
“Way to sell it, sis.”
Trent and Karli come in behind her and they take Emmet from her. The house fills with noise, but for once, I don’t add to it. I’m lost in my thoughts, in my past.
Lost in London.
Chapter 9
London
ThankfullyafterSeanlefton Sunday my next two candidates were perfect for the job. Cassie just started college and will be able to help me out front a couple of days a week, and Grady is an excellent baker. He brought two different desserts for me to try, a salted caramel brownie, and a lemon danish. Each was divine and sold me on him immediately. During the interview he told me he is on the autism spectrum and explained his limitations, then I explained mine. I told him how some things need to be left out on the counter for me to access them, and he adjusted quickly. We are practically besties already.
I slip on my prosthetic and lay out the attachments I’ll need for a day of baking. Cassie is up front, and Grady is working his way through the menu. He promised he could make anything with just the recipe. I took that to mean he would work better without my hovering and told him to let me know if he had any questions, which means I have time for something I’ve been looking forward to for weeks. Creating. I have a few different recipes I need to work on. I've been dying to play with flavors again and combine two of my favorite desserts: ice cream and cupcakes.
When I was young, it never occurred to me that there were things I wouldn’t be able to do. And I owe that mentality to my parents. They worked with me until I could do something, or found new ways for me to do them. I never told my parents, but on more than one occasion I found them using only one hand and their elbow, approximately what I was born with, to figure something out. The next day they’d teach me. Some of the simplest things were the hardest to learn, like tying my shoes or doing up buttons. They bought me prosthetics and endless attachments so I could do all the things little girls want to do. Everything from playing basketball to dancing and skating. I even played the violin for a time.
Only after Mom died when I was twelve did I start to feel different. I stopped dancing, stopped skating, stopped smiling. I started hiding. I hate to admit it now, but the best thing my dad did for me was move us here to be closer to family. It didn’t take long for me to remember that brave and happy little girl my parents raised and to want to make them proud. That’s why I named the shop Sunny’s Sweets. Sean’s nickname meant the world to me, because here is where I found happiness, under the Arizona sun. I want others to find it here too.
I’m so in my zone, that I barely notice Dad entering the shop hours later.
“Hey, sweetie.” He kisses my cheek, gathering some powdered sugar on his beard with it.
“Hey, Dad. Did you bring it?”
He grins. “Yes, I brought it. Better get that sugar off you, though.”
I hurry to wash up then meet him at the back door where he’s busy unstrapping a long, skinny box in the bed of his truck.
“It’s bigger than I thought,” I say, walking around the side to inspect at it.
“The guy almost had to get the forklift to get it up there,” he teases.
The box is big, but it’s only a canvas print which means it shouldn’t be too heavy.
“Good thing I know a super strong man to get it in the shop.” I wrap my arms around his middle.
“Did you start dating someone I don’t know?”
I roll my eyes. Every so often he drops these hints that he’s curious about my private life. But there isn’t a private life to share. My shop is my life. I don’t have time to date, nor is it a priority for me right now.
“Should I get Grady to help?” I ask.
“Just prop open the door, I’ve got it.”
Twenty minutes later, the box is inside, leaning against the wall. And so is my dad.
“When did I get so old?” he grunts, holding his spine.
“It happened last year, but I was afraid to tell you.” I pat his arm. “Go rest for a bit, we can put it up after closing.”
