The Prince and the Pie Maker (The Rebel Royals 2)

Jan rose and brushed off her skirt, forgetting she had dirt on her hands which transferred to her skirt. She brushed the artfully crafted hair out of her face and then realized she’d left a smudge. She shouldn’t have been worried. Chris paid her no heed. His focus was on the food.

“Oh, Jan,” said a feminine voice. “You poor thing.”

Inwardly, Jan groaned. Outwardly, she smiled up at Chris’s wife. Marisol was the Barbie to Chris’s Ken doll. The two were a picture. Both tall, tan, and gorgeous.

They’d been a pair in high school until Marisol went out of state, leaving Chris behind. Chris had turned to his old pal, Jan, and taken solace in her. Jan, the fool that she was, had mistaken solace for love. The moment Marisol came back to town Jan was left to console herself. Too bad the day Marisol came back was the same day as Jan and Chris’s wedding.

“Chris, my hero, you saved the cake.” Marisol looked to her husband with adoration in her eyes. Chris looked back with the same stars in his eyes. Jan rolled her gaze skyward.

“Oh, I’m fine,” Jan said.

Chris blinked and looked over at Jan as though he’d forgotten she was there. Déjà vu. It was the same as their wedding day when Chris turned away from Jan in white and only had eyes for Marisol standing in the doorway of the church.

“Sorry, Jan.”

Sorry, Jan. It was the same words he’d tossed over his shoulder at her when he’d run out the door with Marisol leaving Jan to face their family and friends.

“No worries,” said Jan. “You saved the pie. If that’s all, I’ll be on my way—”

“You’re not leaving,” said Marisol. It was a question, but it sounded more to Jan like a threat.

“You can’t miss my parents fiftieth anniversary,” said Chris.

And that’s how Jan found herself sandwiched in between her ex-fiancé and his wife heading into an anniversary party to the people who would’ve been her in-laws. Where was the ground when you needed it to swallow you whole?

Jan was only there to deliver the pie that Chris had ordered. She was obligated since she and Chris still shared ownership of the pie shop. She’d only wanted to drop the dessert off. She hadn’t truly wanted to be seen, definitely not invited inside. The dress, shoes, and hair were only precautionary in case she was seen. But her armor had been dented, or rather, dirtied.

Jan had planned to go into the back of the house, into the kitchens. Not the front door. Not where everyone would see her.

She tried to backpedal, but that was twice as hard in heels. She teetered on the stem of her shoe, but Chris and Marisol propelled her forward through the screen door. All conversation stopped when she crossed the threshold.

Wine glasses paused on the way to mouths. Forks hesitated in lifting potato salad. Butter knives ceased their carving of bread.

Most mouths gaped. A few lips quirked. All eyes were on her.

It was like standing at the end of the aisle again while the groom walked away with another woman. Chris and Marisol walked into the party presenting Jan’s pie. Jan hung back, inches from the door. Before she could make her escape, her arm was grabbed.

“Jan, what a nice surprise.” Chris’s mom enveloped her in a warm mom hug. Then she pulled back, and Jan braced herself for it. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”

“I’m great.” Jan may have put a little too much emphasis on the great. Her lips may have stretched too wide in their attempt at a healthy and adjusted smile.

“Good.” Mrs. Hayes patted her hand as she squinted at Jan. The older woman dabbed at the smudge on Jan’s cheek like she would’ve done were Jan still in grade school. “That’s so good to hear. I worry about you, you know?”

A tick began in Jan’s right eye as she tried to extract herself from her former, future mother-in-law. Mrs. Hayes’s grip loosened. She turned away from Jan. All it would take would be one step back, a flick of her wrist, and she’d be out the door.

“Look, darling,” said Mrs. Hayes. “It’s Jan.”

“Oh, Jan.” Mr. Hayes swooped Jan up in a big bear hug.

The Hayeses were huggers. Something she had enjoyed as their future daughter-in-law. Something she cringed at now that she was the ex. The ex-neighbor. The ex-fiancée. The woman with the scarlet X on her dress.

No. Scratch that. The muddy X.

Mr. Hayes pulled away. Once again, Jan braced herself for it. “How are you, dear?”

“I’m ...” She’d already used great. What was another adjective to say that a woman wasn’t pining over her ex, which Jan wasn’t. Dating was the furthest thing from her mind. What was on her mind was tomorrow’s menu. “I’m doing just fine, Mr. Hayes.”

“Excellent to hear. I worry about you. I’m glad you’re doing fine.”