Regan sighed, part of her annoyed that she didn’t storm out and head home like she’d intended to in the first place. She felt the tiniest bit weak over that. At the same time, she’d come for an eight-week retreat, and it had only been six and a half. There were still things she could learn from a master baker like Liza, whether or not she liked her.
And Regan Callahan was no quitter.
“Give me a new room, and I’ll stay.”
Liza clapped her hands once, clearly delighted, and again, there was a part of Regan that was irritated the woman had gotten her way. Liza waved behind her. Why it surprised Regan to see May standingthere when she turned, she wasn’t sure. The woman was like a ghost, floating along in silence, suddenly appearing in corners, and Regan would think she’d be used to that by now.
“Show Chef Regan to her new residence, would you?” Liza ordered.
“Of course, Chef.” May held her arm out again, and Regan stood.
“Chef,” Liza said, and Regan turned back to her. “I’m thrilled you’re staying.”
Wish I could say the samewas what she thought, but she kept it inside. Instead, she gave a nod and followed May.
It was only after she saw that her luggage was gone and recalled Liza speaking as if the room had already been set up for a guest that she realized Liza had known all along she’d stay.
* * *
Ava’s heart hurt.
She was sad. Angry. Frustrated.
Why wouldn’t Regan believe her?
She’d asked herself that question about seven hundred times so far, and every time, her brain threw her an image of her own face giving her a look that saidReally? You can’t figure that one out?
She’d asked May if she could speak with Liza, but May told her Liza was not available until tomorrow. “Are you all right, Chef Ava?” May had asked then. “You look a bit pale. Are you feeling well?”
“No.” Ava didn’t understand why she felt a sudden irritation with this woman. She was only trying to help. Wasn’t she? “No, I’m not feeling well.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Would you rather have some alone time instead of dinner with the group? I can have dinner brought to your room.”
Just like that, her irritation evaporated like vapor off a pond in the morning. Alone time—more specifically, to not face the others right now—was exactly what she needed. “That would be great,” she said to May and thanked her.
That was nearly two hours ago. It had been close to four since Regan stormed out of the room and went home. Because of Ava. Well,because of Ava, but also because she wouldn’t listen to Ava, wouldn’t believe her.
Ava had been the cause of her dismissal before, so why in the world would Regan believe her this time?
But what about all we’ve shared these past few weeks? Isn’t that worth giving me the benefit of the doubt?She felt a little anger start to simmer over that.
And this was the way her internal monologue went for hours, as her dinner sat untouched on a tray, as Regan’s bed lay empty, stripped of the bedding immediately by a member of the housekeeping staff, as Ava lay on her own bed, crying silently and trying to come up with the right text to send Regan and failing miserably.
Somewhere around two in the morning, Ava’s hurt started to be overshadowed by something else: that simmering anger. Because what the hell, Regan? Yes, they had a history, and Ava hadn’t behaved in a happy, shiny manner during that history, but it was years ago.Literal years!She’d apologized several times. And hello? They’d had sex. Lots of it. Lots and lots of it. Good sex. Excellent sex. Mind-blowingly fantastic sex. Maybe Regan didn’t understand that Ava wasn’t a person who did that with just anybody. There had to be a connection. And eventually, feelings.
And here come the tears again.
The anger morphed back into a wrenching sadness. She’d constructed fourteen different texts and had sent none of them. Lengthy explanations. Accusatory and angry outbursts. Pleading paragraphs. At 3:20 in the morning, she’d settled on two lines.
I’m sorry. I miss you.
That was it. She hit send, then turned off all notifications on her phone.
Her eyelids felt like they were lined with sandpaper. Her nose was raw from blowing it. She was exhausted and had to try to get at least a little bit of sleep. She still had to bake tomorrow and be up in—she glanced at her watch and groaned—three hours.
And her heart hurt.
* * *
