Chapter 2

Chapter

Two

I duckout the back door of the bakery without a second glance, my temper still flaring. The warm, humid air of LA clings to me. I retwist my hair up in a messy bun and take a deep breath to gather my thoughts. My hand trembles slightly as I pull out my phone and dial Tomas"s number. The familiar ringing fills my ear, a hopeful sound that quickly fades into the void of his voicemail. "Hey, it"s Tomas. Can"t come to the phone right now, but leave a message, and I"ll get back to you." His cheerful tone grates against my current mood.

I hesitate, trying to find the right words. Finally, I manage to say, "It's me. I…I left the bakery. Call me as soon as you can." I hang up and send a silent prayer that he hears something good from our investors today, seeing that the cookbook is dead in the water. There are not enough vile words in the English language to describe Claudia at this moment.

As if the day couldn"t get any worse, the sky opens up, raindrops beginning to fall, first gently, then with increasing insistence. I wrap my arms around myself, unprepared for the sudden downpour. Seeking refuge, I duck into the nearest corner store. A blast of cold, air-conditioned air hits my face, causing me to shiver. I make my way down the narrow aisles, the shelves packed with an eclectic mix of necessities and novelties. My hand reaches out almost instinctively for a bottle of red wine, the label a familiar comfort. Next, I select a relaxing bubble bath, some dark chocolates, a jar of salted cashews, a couple of face masks, and a new shade of nail polish.

At the counter, I add an umbrella to my small collection of self-care items. The cashier gives me a sympathetic smile as she rings up my purchases. "Rough day?" she asks, her voice kind.

"You could say that," I reply, forcing a small smile in return. The transaction complete, I gather my things, the umbrella unfurling with a satisfying snap as I step back into the rain.

The walk back to my apartment, set in a charming, older building, is a blur. My mind is a whirlwind of emotions, replaying Claudia"s deception and the crumbling of my career. By the time I reach home, my face is stained from the tears I was unable to keep at bay. The key turns in the lock with a soft click, a sound that signals the comfort of home. I take a deep breath and try to leave the ugly emotions on the other side of the door—try being the imperative word.

Stepping into the apartment, I let out a long sigh. I slip off my shoes, feeling the cool hardwood floor beneath my feet. The apartment is quiet, the kind of silence that speaks of solitude and peace. I make my way to the kitchen, moving on autopilot. I set the wine and bubble bath on the counter, the umbrella leaning forgotten by the door. I pull a glass from the cupboard, its familiar weight a small anchor in the storm of my thoughts. The wine bottle, a promise of temporary escape, waits patiently on the counter. Pouring the rich, red liquid, I watch as it swirls into the glass, the color deep and comforting. Today of all days, I need this small ritual, this moment of normalcy.

I take a sip and close my eyes. Everything is going to be okay, I tell myself. Even if I don't quite believe it.

With the glass cradled in my hand, I head towards the bathroom, the thought of a hot bath beckoning like a beacon of relaxation. The unexpected sound of water splashing, rhythmic and out of place, pauses my steps. A smile tugs at the corners of my lips, the irritation of the day beginning to ebb away at the thought of Tomas already in the bath. I must have his schedule wrong. I've been so busy at the bakery that I have no idea what his day off is this week. It's obviously today. My smile grows bolder. It"s a small, intimate fantasy, one that promises a break from reality, a chance to wash away the bitterness of betrayal with warm water and shared confidences. Right now, I need Tomas more than ever.

The door creaks open, the steamy air billowing out to greet me, heavy with the scent of lavender and jasmine from our favorite bath salts. The scene before me halts my advance, a sight so unexpected it takes a moment for my brain to register. Tomas, my Tomas, is not alone in the tub. Across from him, a leggy blonde I"ve never seen before, her eyes wide with shock, mirroring my own.

For a heartbeat, the world goes silent, the steady drip of the faucet loud in the suddenly charged atmosphere. "Tomas?" My voice is a whisper, disbelief, and betrayal weaving a tight knot in my chest.

He stands abruptly, water cascading down his form, the bubbles scant cover. "Claire, this isn"t—" he begins, his voice laced with panic.

The woman stands, clutching a bath towel to her chest, and slides out of the tub with less urgency, her expression filled with embarrassment and confusion. She"s silent, an unwilling spectator in the unraveling drama.

I consider hurling the wine glass at him, a fleeting, satisfying fantasy. Instead, I retreat, each step laden with the weight of shattered dreams. Tomas"s attempts at explanation become white noise, drowned out by the storm within me.

"Claire, please, let me explain!" he pleads, slipping and sliding on the wet tiles as he follows me. His nakedness, his vulnerability, does nothing to elicit my sympathy. If anything, it fuels my anger, my sense of betrayal sharpening into something cold and hard.

"Go to hell, Tomas." I snatch up my keys from the kitchen counter, the metal cool and solid in my shaking hand.

"Claire, I'm sorry. I love you!"

I whirl around. "You love me? You are unbelievable! I'm leaving. Don't follow me." I power walk to the door, leaving the wine glass on the counter but not the bottle.

Tomas, heedless of his nudity, follows me to the door, the absurdity of the situation lost on him. "Claire, she means nothing! I swear!"

The door slams shut behind me, echoing in the empty hallway. Through the small window beside the door, I catch a glimpse of Tomas, still naked, still pleading, now in full view of the neighbors. Their faces range from shock to amusement, a spectrum of reactions to the spectacle we"ve become.

I turn away, the cold, hard knot in my chest loosening just enough to let the first wave of grief wash through me. Betrayal, loss, the end of what I thought we had—it all blends into a sharp, jagged edge of pain. The rain outside seems fitting now; its steady patter a backdrop to the storm raging inside me.