Epilogue
Reese
Eight Months Later
One day you’re gonna need me. I may not be there any longer… Those were the last words I had for my mom. She never did get around to apologizing. Out of the blue a few months after leaving my grandfather’s home, she called. She asked if I wanted to do lunch almost as if the time apart was the key ingredient to forgiveness. With a heavy heart, I offered my response because it’s true. I have only ever been her crutch.
Now, I'm seated on a stool, the stainless-steel counter before me is an organized bit of chaos. A subtle pain still lingers in my heart, a pain that only a mother could cause. But I take in the sight of my brand-new kitchen of The Flour Shoppe. It is bright yellow and airy. And I'm virtually alone on a Tuesday evening. Powder coats my fingers. It feels good and soothing and maybe, just maybe, it's actually the glass of non-alcoholic wine before me that has placed my mind in a mellow mood as I sway to the music.
Then I feel Jamie's presence as he exits the manager’s office, his new office.
“Jamie, turn it off and die,” I order, not even turning around as I sense him stepping toward the built-in radio system.
“I can't stand you and this damn music.” Jamie holds up an organic egg as I turn around as best as I can to give a smug grin.
At eight months and three weeks, the easiest thing for me to do is turn my head, though my nose has expanded and I suppose my wide lips are Evan's haven.
"This is my song," I say, "just go and leave me be."
He lingers, smile wavering. "I was on my way out the door, the driver should be outside; Chu has to go to Tokyo. Should I stay?"
My head cocks to the side, in mock offense. "Enjoy your trip. Boy, I can run my own bakery."
"But you look like you're about to pop, and what in the world are you making?"
My eyes narrow at the insult.
"Hey, those are your words not mine. Every day you either feel like popping, exploding... or combusting or whatever. And if I have to hear about those damn ankles, we're gonna have a problem."
Jamie straps his leather-studded satchel over his shoulder and appears the fashionable paperboy, vest and cap included. These days my only accessories involve me magically meandering out of the bed.
He asks, "So, whatcha making?"
"Nothing much and I'm just finishing up now," I shrug, "though this isn’t my first time getting busy in my own bakery, thank you very much."
My cell phone rings. I rub the flour onto my apron. A candid of Evan attempting to talk to a horse pops up as my screensaver. With our son on the way, and me in his ear joshing him about his fear of Flash, the gallant steed, Evan took me up on the offer to return to Santa Monica Mountain Range. Besides a good laugh on my part, Evan’s partner coincidentally called, saving the day.
Soon as I press connect, Evan orders. "I'm around the corner, Reese. Be ready when I get inside."
"Okay," I reply and hang up.
"Are you still going to dinner this evening? Why not dress up?" Jamie pitches a curled upper lip as his gander slithers over the purple and red striped maxi dress I'm donning. He always harps about me being in stripes equates to a catastrophe.
"Have you seen my..." I pause. Damn, but I do have tree trunks for ankles these days, but Jamie just said I bitch about my ankles and my belly too much. I lift my glass and pretend it does the trick while downing the last bit of drink. "Whatever, you friggen bastard. When Evan gets here, I'll just tell him I'm too tired to go out."
"And if I carry you to dinner?" Another voice, entirely too manly for Jamie, speaks up.
I almost jump as I turn around. Sheesh, Evan is a wet dream. He's standing a few paces behind Jamie. Tailored slacks. A black dress shirt grazes rock-hard biceps and the two top buttons are undone, giving a glimpse of his chiseled chest.
I gulp. "Dude, you little stinker!"
"I had the feeling that you weren't getting ready to go, Reese." He steps over. The stool I'm sitting on extends high, yet Evan still glances down at me as he issues a rhetorical, “What did I say about you doing as told?"
Jamie arches an eyebrow. "Alpha mode," he mouths.
A warmth creeps up my cheeks. "Well, I didn’t have the chance to get ready, so whatever, Evan.”
He takes the flour off the counter and places it with the rest of the items and cocks his head to the designer Flour Shoppe box next to me.
Pursing my lips, I place the few baked goods into the box. Grab a silver, gauze ribbon and tie the box. Under my breath, I argue about how he just got off work and now is content bossing me around.
"Aren't the two of you so cute," Jamie says. "I'll walk you'll out... since this is goodbye until Chu and I get back."
For a moment suspicion makes my cheeks puff out in thought. Then, as I perfect the tie on the bow, I say, "Jamie how many times have I told you there is no such thing as goodbye?"
Evan helps me to my feet.
"I thought you were gonna carry me to the car?" I smirk.
"As you wish..."
"Stop." I punch him softly. The three of us head out the front of the Flour Shoppe. Jamie punches in the key code inside the entryway as I shift weight, standing beneath a royal-blue and purple sky as the sun has just disappeared.
Flour Shoppe
