Sweet Possession

“I never said we.” She points her manicured finger at me. “You have a dress to fit into, sweets. And as your Matron of Honor and wedding planner, it is my job to make sure everything goes as planned for Saturday.” She picks up her giant, heavenly-looking burger and brings it to her lips. “Besides, Joey told me you had three cupcakes today.”

I scowl at her as she takes a massive bite. “Seriously? He told you that?”

“Yup,” she says through a mouthful.

I grimace, poking my lettuce with my fork. “I don’t know how people eat this stuff all the time.”

She moans softly, catching an evil look from me. “Sorry,” she murmurs.

And I can’t help but laugh at the sight of her, thoroughly enjoying her burger and not caring in the least that she’s eating it like a caveman. All of her table manners have been left at the door as she takes bites that would rival Reese’s. I eventually dig into my salad after my stomach starts growling at me, but I don’t enjoy myself nearly as much as Juls. I do however enjoy her company and the conversation that stays far away from eerie elevator encounters. We talk about her upcoming doctor’s appointment and how excited she is to possibly hear the baby’s heartbeat. We talk about my wedding and the fact that my mother has also been harassing her with phone calls about last-minute alterations, and we wrap up our meal with talk of my honeymoon to the Cayman Islands. Two weeks with Reese in a bathing suit is the second thing I’m most excited about in terms of upcoming events. The fact that it’ll be my husband I’ll be staring at for those fourteen days is still strongly holding the lead.

As it should.

28

After saying goodbye to Juls, I head back to the loft, expecting to have it out with Reese as soon as I arrive. I mentally prepare myself for our discussion as I set the alarm at the front door before walking through the bakery and up the stairs. But when I step through the door, a dark, empty space greets me instead of his expectant scowl. And then I remember what Juls’ said about Ian working late. Reese is probably still stuck at the office, and when he does work late, he usually isn’t home until after 9:00 p.m., which gives me another hour before I could be expecting him.

I grab an empty box off the floor and sit it on the bed. Packing should help me pass the time, and even though Reese wanted to do this for me, he shouldn’t have to. This is my stuff, and I’ve accumulated a lot over the past three and a half years. I’m not a hoarder by any means, but I also am not one to throw away anything that holds even the tiniest bit of sentimental value. I’ve kept every movie stub, concert ticket, and playbill holding a Juls and Joey memory. I’ve kept every thank you note I’ve ever received from a customer. But probably my most prized possession is the tin I keep on my dresser that holds all of Reese’s love notes to me. I grab it, sitting down next to the box and popping off the lid on the tin. I thrum through the contents with my fingers, scraping along the tops of the cards. Every now and then, I’ll blindly reach in and grab one, reading it and reliving every emotion I felt when I first opened the tiny brown card. I have every single note in here, even the first one he sent me that I thought I’d thrown away. But Joey had grabbed it for me while I was delivering my apologetic blow job in Reese’s office after slapping him for thinking he was married. I had no idea he kept it until he gave it to me at my bridal shower last month as part of my gift. I cried when I read it that day, which I suppose was funny considering how I reacted to it the first time. But that note started everything. If Reese hadn’t sent it to me with the bag of flour, I’m not sure what would’ve happened between us. Maybe we would’ve eventually seen each other again at some function involving our two best friends, but maybe not. So even though his first note to me is an apology for fucking up and not one that spells out how much he loves me, it’s still my favorite.

Next to the one he gave me with my engagement ring.

After packing up a good amount of clothes and what I won’t be using the next three days, I stack the boxes in the corner behind my decorative screen and get ready for bed. It’s almost 9:00 p.m., and even though I’d like to stay up and wait for Reese to get home, I know he’ll wake me up if he wants to talk about it tonight. And I’m too tired not to crash hard right now. This day has been exhausting, both mentally and emotionally, and as I cuddle up on my side of the bed, I find myself missing not only the wedding stress that was once my only concern, but also the man who blankets me better than any down comforter.

A loud, piercing noise jolts me awake and upright, and my body immediately goes rigid. I clamp my hands over my ears, muffling the noise as my eyes adjust to the dark room around me. I’m alone, Reese’s side of the bed is completely untouched, and it takes me several seconds to realize what’s happening. That noise. I haven’t heard it before but I know what it is. My shop alarm is going off, and I need to enter the code to stop it. I slide off the bed and run toward the stairs but freeze when my mind draws a conclusion to the reasoning behind the alarm.

Someone’s trying to break in.

I drop to my knees beside the bed and grab the baseball bat I’ve kept there since that psycho bitch threw a brick at my window last summer. Nobody messes with my business, and I am seriously prepared to do damage with this thing.

I run downstairs, keeping a tight grip on the bat as the noise becomes even louder. I go along the far side of the worktop, trying to see through the doorway as my heart rate jumps to a rapid pace. I can’t make out anything and I need to stop the alarm before my ears begin to bleed. Mustering up every ounce of courage I have and keeping the bat at a ready position, I run through the doorway leading into the main bakery.