Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Lyla

T he phone in my hand is teasing me. It's saying I should tell Lincoln Morrison to fuck off, but the rent that's due in a few weeks is encouraging me to call him. I hate every single part of this. That morning I left Sugar and Spice. I never expected to look back. It was full-steam ahead. I had no time to think of what may not happen. I never had a Plan B. Now that's coming back to bite me in the ass.

I can't talk to him, my bruised heart and ego won't allow it. Instead, I put my fingers on the keyboard of the phone and send a text.

Me: Kayla told me you came by the store today. What did you want?

He needs to ask me. I don't want to offer him a damn thing.

Lincoln: I'd prefer to talk to you face to face about this, if that's possible.

Me: It's not. Not right now. I understand, believe me, but I can't handle it, Linc. My life is crashing around me.

Lincoln: I get it. So I stopped by the shop today to see how you felt about taking a job with me again. I heard things weren't going great, but I had no idea you were that close to closing, Lyla. I wish you would've said something to me. Maybe I could've helped.

Tears well up in my eyes. I would never have asked him for advice or his help, but I didn't know I could. I wasn't aware he would be that nice, not after I walked out on him. Then again, maybe I'm projecting my own feelings.

Me: I knew early on it wasn't going to work, Lincoln. I just didn't want to admit it. It was my dream; ya know?

Lincoln: I completely understand. As someone said to me today, I don't think I've ever realized how lucky I am to have stepped into an already established bakery. I have a proposition for you.

The side of my mouth tilts up in a grin.

Me: I won't pretend to be your wife for the night, Linc. This isn't a movie.

Lincoln: LMAO! You and I both know that's not what I want. I'd love for you to come back to work for me. It could be on your terms.

God, I hate this. Hate that this was never part of my plan, and it looks like it's going to happen. For the first time in a few months, I feel as if I have options. It's more freeing than I imagined it would. One thing I've learned since I walked out of Sugar and Spice, though, is that I can't decide based on emotion. I have to make them based on what I can afford to do, and what I'm able to handle emotionally.

Me: I appreciate what you're offering, but I'm going to be smarter than I was last time. Let me think about this for a couple of days?

He's gritting his back teeth. I know that like I know the back of my hand. But if he allows, I'm going to make him wait.

Lincoln: Take the time you need, but please know I need the answer as soon as you have it.

Me: I promise I won't keep you waiting any longer than necessary.

Tossing the phone to the side, I blow out a breath. This decision would've been so much easier ten months ago. While things had been difficult, I'd had savings, and I would have made different decisions. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, but this is worse. I can look back and critique every single decision I made. It's like a choose your own adventure, and I've made all the wrong ones.

Closing my eyes, I let the tears that have gathered fall. Tonight I will drown in them. They will be a fucking sea of saltiness and the expulsion of all the feelings I've got flowing through my body. This is the most important part of it. I have to get these feelings out, because if I don't, they will strangle me, and I won't be able to change anything.

And now? It's time to change everything.

M y body aches and my eyes are as scratchy as sandpaper as I lift the lids. I cried last night, for so long I wasn't sure I would ever stop, but I allowed myself the privilege of letting it all out. Now, I feel a little better, and my head is clearer than it was.

Although I asked Lincoln for time to decide, there really is no other option. If I want this roof over my head, small as it is, and food in my fridge, I have to say yes. At least now, maybe during the year I'll be able to do something else.

But for now, there is no other choice.

It feels like a piece of me is dying as I grab my phone and type out the last text message I ever wanted to send.

Me: I'll work for you. What time do you want me to be there, and when?

As I set the phone back down beside me, I let out the breath I've been holding and square my shoulders. I've been strong my entire life, and it looks as if I'm going to have to dig deep for a little more of that courage and tenacity.