Curvy Valentine Match

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, it was all one big damn shock. “Why didn’t you come back to Tulip?”

Her gaze was emotionless. “There was nothing left for me there. I used my culinary certificate to get a few crappy jobs and save some cash until I found the gig at Bread Box.”

“Mara, no.” The idea that she’d gone to jail for what was actually, my own crimes, hurt like hell.

“Yep. That’s what happened. The whole sordid story. Any more questions?”

I nodded. “So many.”

“Too bad. I’ve told you everything you need to know, there is nothing more to talk about or rehash.” She really believed that, and it made my chest ache even more.

“Mara, I’m so, so sorry. I never knew what happened to you, but I always wondered, even after I enlisted. I thought you left because you blamed me.”

“I did blame you, Xander.”

Right. “You mean you do blame me, right? Because you still hate me.”

She groaned and shook her head. “Why do you care, Xander? You left and you went on with your life, you didn’t think about me or try to find me, so stop pretending like you give a shit.”

“I did.”

“Right.” The disbelief in her tone was thick, and she shook her head, disgusted. “I stopped blaming you after the tenth letter I sent was returned. I got the message loud and clear, and I stopped blaming you and started blaming myself for believing the lies of a hormonal teenage boy.”

“No. I loved you Mara. With my whole heart, and more than I ever loved another person outside of my family. If you never believe anything I say to you, believe that.” I shook my head, wondering how everything could have gotten so twisted up. “I was heartbroken for years, thinking you’d just left me without a word. Without even saying goodbye.”

She sighed and wiped all traces of emotion away until her face was a frozen mask. Bland. “Well, Xander, now you know what happened. I hope you’re happy.”

I was a lot of things, but none of them were happy. Mara had been left to pay for a crime we both committed and my parents were, at least partially, to blame. I was to blame, which meant I had earned every ounce of hate she felt for me.

“I’m so sorry Mara.”

“It’s old news,” she said and rubbed her hands on the hips of her jeans.

“Not to me. It’s brand new information.” I stood and took a step forward, but Mara stepped back, fear and anger in her eyes. I kept moving forward until we stood toe to toe, her brown eyes filled with wariness as she took me in, searched for my intention. My hands found her shoulders and slid down her arms until I held her hands in mine. “Mara,” I whispered and pressed my lips to hers in a chaste kiss that lasted a little longer than I intended, but her lips were softer and plumper than I remembered. It was chaste, sure, but the kiss was as powerful as the hundreds, maybe thousands we shared the year we were together. “I’m sorry, I hope you believe that. And whether you want it or not, I’ll make this up to you. I swear.”

Mara took a step back and shook her head. “Not necessary.”

“It is, Mara. It damn well is. So prepare to be dazzled, babe.”

“I’m not your babe,” she called after me as I made my way to the door.

I stopped and turned back to her with a smile.

“Not yet. But maybe soon.” With a wink, I left Mara’s place and drove around until I was too tired to drive to my parents’ house and give them a piece of my mind.

Mara

“Can you grab more of the strawberry cream donuts and the beet sugar dusted cookies?” I stuck my head into the kitchen, startling the part-time worker who’s job mostly consisted of stacking display shelves and keeping the kitchen clean.

“Again?” Hiring teenagers was always a cheap and easy option, which is why I let out a silent, but frustrated sigh and smiled.

“Yep. The case is empty.” Because that’s how bakeries worked. “Bring’em out as soon as you can.”

“Yeah, sure,” she said and stuck an earbud in, turning away from me while she bopped her head to the music.

“Now.” I was a good manager because I was mostly hands off, preferring to spend my time baking or dealing with the chaos of the register, because those tasks made the time pass quickly.

“Fine,” she growled at me and nailed me with a hateful glare that I shook off, because chances were good the girl wouldn’t be here in a week. High school workers were fickle, even in a small town, and I didn’t give her a hard time because I envied that ability to be fickle. Some days I wanted to throw my hands in the air and tell Shannon I quit, that her whims were unrealistic and put too much extra work on my plate. But jobs were hard to come by with a record, especially for theft, so I did my job well and kept my head down.