“What?” Ava laughed. “‘Sex bunny’? Seriously. No. Never say that again.” Maia laughed, too, and then Ava turned serious again, because Maia was the only person who’d had a long enough conversation with her to allow her to voice her theory. “Regan didn’t steal my idea. I think I inadvertently stole hers.” At Maia’s furrowed brow, she went on. “I thinkBeccastole Regan’s idea and sold it to me as her own, and I ran with it.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” There was no accusation in Maia’s tone, just simple curiosity, but Ava felt the question like a punch to the gut.
“Because I was a fucking coward. I let our history get in my way—and so did she, if I’m being honest, because she doesn’t believe that I didn’t steal it. I told her what I thought happened, but she figured I was cutting the person beneath me loose.” She tipped her head to one side, then dropped her shoulders in defeat. “Which is valid.”
“Why’s it valid?”
“Because it’s what I did with her. Way back.”
“Ah.” Maia nodded. She sipped her coffee. “But you’re not that person now.”
Ava sighed, and it felt heavy, weighted. “No, but I guess she doesn’t see that. Not anymore.” Taking a sip of her own coffee, she had to give herself a moment and swallow down the lump in her throat. “I really thought she would.” It came out as a mere whisper, and Maia turned to look at her.
“I’m really sorry,” Maia said and squeezed her knee.
“Yeah. Me too.”
“Look, all we need to do is get through the next week and we can get the fuck out of here and never look back.”
“Yes, please,” Ava said, with a nod and a bump of Maia’s shoulder. Inside, though, the thought of never seeing Regan again made her heart pound harder in her chest and squeezed the air from her lungs. She had to give herself a minute to acclimate to that emotion as it rolled through her. The two of them sat quietly. It was so different from how it had been a week or two into the retreat, when the dining room had been a place of gathering and making new friends and laughter. Now it was nearly empty, and something about that made Ava sad.
Maia glanced at the smartwatch on her wrist and frowned. Then she took a deep breath, finished her coffee, and looked at Ava. “Ready?”
“No. But let’s go.” She pushed to her feet, her legs feeling almost leaden as they headed for the kitchen.
* * *
Regan wanted to go home so badly, she could taste it.
She’d spent the past several days kicking herself for letting Liza Bennett-Schmidt talk her into staying. What she should have done was tell the famous chef to take her stupid retreat and her fancy single room (where hadthatbeen the whole time?) and shove them up her game-playing ass. Because she was pretty sure that’s what was happening here, she just didn’t know why. Had the chef grown bored with her millions and millions of dollars and her mansion in the hills? Did baking fail to thrill her any longer, so she looked for excitement in other ways? Mainly by manipulating people? The fact that the assistants were gone now was a curious development, and one that was very convenient for Liza and very inconvenient for Regan. She wanted to believe Ava. She did. But Ava’s track record wouldn’t allow it. Except now there was no Becca to confront, to ask for the truth.
Liza Bennett-Schmidt was one sneaky bitch.
“I miss her,” she said quietly into the phone one night when there were only two days left of the retreat.
Kiki sighed, but not in an accusatory way. Regan knew that. Her friend was just worried about her. “I know you do. I’m sorry, babe.” She could hear Kiki take a sip of whatever she was drinking before she asked, “There’s no way you can talk to her?”
Regan pursed her lips, remembering the things she’d said to Ava. “I think that ship has sailed.” She blew out a breath. “And just because I miss her doesn’t mean I trust her.” She’d spent the past week or so doing her best to focus on her work, whatever bake was on the counter in front of her, all the while taking peripheral glances at Ava to her right. Ava, who seemed tenser than ever, if the visible tightness of her shoulders was any indication. Ava, who had started the retreat with a very serious expression and rarely smiled, who then had moved to easier smiling and even outright laughter, and had now returned to serious and smileless.
It made Regan sad.
The evenings after they baked, she’d either go for a walk—which was a bit dangerous, as Ava had started running on the daily—watch a movie, or search for new baking ideas to put into play when she got back to Sweet Temptations. Anything to keep her distracted and her mind off the fact that she was alone in her big bed, that there were none of Ava’s toiletries lined up neatly on the bathroom sink, none of her towels folded precisely and hanging on the rack, nobody to shoot disapproving looks at her mess of clothes scattered all over the floor of the room. She was tired of the pillow next to hers not smelling like Ava. She was tired of the loneliness and uncertainty and homesickness. She missed her apartment, her cat, and her bakery. And Ava.
“Nope.” She shook her head vehemently as she stabbed at the keys on her laptop looking for something violent to watch. A good slasher film—the bloodier the better—would keep her mind off the gorgeous brunette who had captured her heart…and then stomped on it. “Man, your taste in women sucks, Callahan,” she muttered as she started the movie.
* * *
Leaving the Bennett-Schmidt retreat was nothing like arriving at it. Not in atmosphere and not in attitude of the attendees. Their arrival had been excited. Celebratory. Their exit was quiet. Cerebral. They each received a letter under their door in the morning from Liza Bennett-Schmidt. It thanked them for attending, said she hoped they enjoyed it and got something out of it and that she was going to sit down with all her notes to decide who’d get the money—they would be notified by mail.
So fucking anticlimactic.
Regan sighed as she lugged her suitcase down the grand staircase. Again, no Charles to carry it for her. Near the front door stood Madison and Paige, and she looked around to see if anybody else was there.
“The others left in the early van,” Paige said, watching her scan.
“There was an earlier van?” Regan asked.
“Apparently.” Madison shrugged. “I’d have been on it if I’d known.”
