One to Save (One to Hold 6)

Standing I go to the kitchen for a glass of water. My mother has taken care of cancelling the roses, talking to the minister, the caterer, the musicians... Since we’d planned a beach wedding, we didn’t lose any deposits. All I lost was my heart.

On the counter is a flier design I worked up for Aunt Bea. She wants to try decorated cake doughnuts in her shop. As old fashioned and out of touch with technology as she is, she still keeps up with the latest cooking trends. She’s also addicted to the cooking channel.

Glancing at my calendar, I see it’s Thursday. Has it been a whole week since Dex’s party? Since that crushing day? Derek did not leave his key. He also did not take my necklace. It’s back around my neck, actually, and every night I get a lengthy text from him detailing everything he did that day.

It’s pretty routine info, and the only one I found interesting was when he made a point of telling me he was crashing with Stuart and Mariska while Star and her daughter stayed in his condo alone.

My hand instinctively moves to my midsection as I try to rub the cramp away. He knew I’d care about that. More heat in my eyes. All this information, all this thoughtful consideration... Why did it have to take such extremes to get us here?

An idea filters through my mind, and I pick up my phone.

Mom’s gentle voice greets me. “Are you doing okay, honey?”

“Yeah, I need to go to Baltimore.” The flier is in my hand, and I turn it over, thinking about what I’m doing. “Aunt Bea is starting a new product line, and I want to take pictures for her website. I’d also like to tell her in person about the wedding cakes. She’s done so much, I feel like I owe her a visit.”

“Oh, Melissa,” she sighs, and I want to hang up immediately. Every wedding detail has been reluctantly cancelled by my mother, and all with repeating “are you sures” the entire time.

I power on. “I’ll only be gone overnight. Would you mind keeping Dex?”

“You don’t even have to ask.” She’s smiling now. “I love keeping my grandson.”

Nodding, I slide my laptop into its sleeve. “He has Mom’s Day Out in the morning. I’ll let Hannah know you’ll pick him up.”

“Drive safe.”

We disconnect, and I place a quick call to Bea. Of course, she’ll be in the shop tomorrow. It’s a fantastic idea for me to drive up and take pictures for the website. She can’t wait to see me and show me her ideas for the groom’s cake, and when is Derek going to make up his mind? I dodge that last question and tell her I’ll be there by early afternoon. All that’s left is getting through another night alone.

Evening used to be my favorite time of day. Derek would be home, the three of us would be together. Now the prospect of sleeping in that king-sized bed, surrounded by his warm, lingering scent, with no strong arms to hold me... It’s become a little slice of hell for me to endure. Lately my endurance has moved to the couch.

Tonight, at least, I have

something to focus on: packing.

* * *

Aunt Bea’s shop is located a block off the main foot-traffic route in downtown Baltimore. We’d had to work to get customers to make the detour for her pastries and gifts, but a few well-timed samples and surprise office freebies combined with her talent in the kitchen and my ability to spread the word paid off.

Her shop is full of customers when I arrive, and parking in front of the store, I think of how different coming to the city from this angle feels compared to how it was when I lived alone in the Reynolds mansion.

A dark thought tightens my stomach, the empty Reynolds mansion. Sloan is dead. Derek killed him, and somewhere, someone knows about it. Whoever that person is could be anywhere. Glancing over my shoulder, an involuntary shiver moves down my spine.

Derek’s nightly check in said they’d had a breakthrough in the case. It was unexpected, and he wasn’t sure he believed it. Apparently, the harasser sent a letter to Star at the condo. He’d said it was too long to text, but he’d know more tonight.

As much as I want to be indifferent, I’m on edge waiting to hear what’s happening, and hoping it doesn’t make his situation worse. My thoughts are distracted as I enter the store, and I make my way past the waiting customers to a side table.

“I’ve got your special cupcake! ” Aunt Bea nods to a little pastry on a small plate. It’s a tradition she started before I moved home, and even after I was in Wilmington, she would still send me special deliveries at the holidays. “Drunken buttered rum.”

Distractions vanish, my eyes widen as I check out the dark cake topped with white frosting and shaves of coconut flakes and pecans. “It looks amazing.”

A male customer curiously inspects my treat as I peel back the wrapper.

“It’s something new I’m trying,” she says, assembling a pink and white polka-dotted cardboard box. “Cooking channel.”

I grin and take a small bite. Rich buttery rum and spicy cinnamon fill my mouth. A hint of nutmeg, and I have to work to suppress a groan.

“How do I get some of that?” The man in the navy pin-stripe suit nods toward me with a wink.

His question is a bit vague, but Bea is on it. “Be my marketing genius and favorite customer.” She winks back at him. “Her fiancé is a very lucky man.”