Page 57 of Walkoff Wedding

I’m not experienced when it comes to… most things, but I’m not a total prude. I’ve… touched myself before, explored parts of myself that no one else ever has.

But now, after the kiss, I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be touched by Grant.

Hence, the very deep trouble that I’m in.

“Cher, you are distracted this morning. What’s going on?”

Startling, I glance over to Amos, whose hands are resting on his apron-clad hips, his expression laced with worry.

“Just a little tired this morning, that’s all,” I reply with a small smile. “I didn’t sleep well.”

… or hardly at all.

Amos tuts, shaking his head so hard that the little beads in his gray ponytail clink together. “Go home. You deserve a break. I’ve got this. You need rest.”

“But I?—”

His brow arches. “No arguing with me, cher. Go. You can get a few hours of a nap if you go now. So go. Out. Out.”

I blow out an exasperated sigh. I should stay and help. I’ve got a hundred different things that I can be doing, but instead, I reach behind my back and untie my apron. I know there’s no use arguing with him, and as always, he knows me sometimes better than I know myself.

I really could use some sleep. Maybe then I can convince my brain to think about something else besides Grant.

“Thank you, Amos,” I murmur as I hang my apron on the hook in the back. “I owe you one. A big one.”

I slide my arm around the small of his back, my head dropping to his shoulder as I sink into a hug, reveling in the comfort of his embrace. He holds me close against him, brushing his hand lightly over my hair.

There have been so many changes in my life lately, even if they’re not all bad changes, and I could still use the comfort from one of my constants. Lately, it feels like my entire world has been flipped upside down, and I’m left clinging to the small amount of familiarity that I have.

Amos and Earl are that for me.

“This is all I need right here, ma cher,” he murmurs against my hair, tightening his hold. “I just want you to be okay. To be happy, to follow your heart no matter the path.”

I nod against him. “I’m trying. I am… happier. Now that I no longer have to be around Brent. Although, I’ve seen him lurking outside when I’ve gotten here to open the bakery a few times, and it’s just… weird. He even sent a text the other day saying that I should pay attention because anyone could be watching. He’s acting insane. I’m just so hurt and angry about everything he’s done and is still doing. I hate even giving him that. He doesn’t deserve another thought from me.”

“Promise me that if you feel unsafe, you’ll call the police. I don’t trust him, cher. Not for a damn second. Maybe we should make sure I always get here first in the mornings from now on,” he says.

“No, it’ll be okay. He won’t do anything… he just wants to intimidate me.”

Amos looks skeptical but gives me a nod. “Okay, cher. But please be careful. And you’re right, he doesn’t deserve anything from you, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve the space to work through those feelings, Addie. It’s never easy when you’ve been betrayed by someone, and you have every right to feel it all. Give yourself time to feel. To purge them. Healing is not linear. Remember that, okay?”

When his arms tighten around me, I sigh and nod against his shoulder. He makes it seem so easy when it feels anything but. “You always give the best advice. You know that?”

His deep chuckle vibrates between us. “Comes with old age. When you’ve been around as long as I have, it comes naturally. Wait and see, cher. Now, go on and get some rest, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

With one last squeeze, I drop my arms and step back.

“Oh,” Amos exclaims, lifting his finger to make me pause. He brushes past me and picks up a to-go box. The clear plastic on top is fogged over, which tells me that it’s fresh. “Put some breakfast together for your new beau. He’s got a sweet tooth like you, I noticed.”

My cheeks burn as I take the box from him. “It’ll make his day, I’m sure… Thank you.”

Auggie greets me the second I step through the front door of the apartment. He’s more energetic than normal, probably because he smells the box of goodies that are most definitely not for him, even though he tries to sweet-talk me with those cute little eyes.

“Good morning, Augustus,” I murmur, squatting down and petting the soft fur on the top of his head. “These are not for you, but I promise to feed you in just a minute. Okay? Sorry, big guy.”

Sometimes, I swear he’s part human, almost as if he can understand what I’m saying, because in response, he grumbles unhappily and marches toward the couch, hops onto the cushions, and settles in for a nap. Apparently, Grant’s couch is his new favorite napping spot.

“Grumpy old man,” I mutter to myself as I turn and round the corner to the hallway. I’m halfway to the bedroom when the bathroom door opens and Grant steps out, steam billowing from behind him in a thick cloud.

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