Page 3 of Always the Baker

For a while, Brax simply stared at Amalia before bursting into a fit of laughter.

“Wait, so you don’t want the romantic itinerary I planned for us to spend quality time together. Instead, you want a bought body and hard teeth?”

As she stared at him, Brax realized she was serious, and that made him laugh until tears filled his eyes. There was nothing funny about the situation, but he couldn’t help but laugh. All the gifts he’d gotten her… the break in his tour schedule… and she didn’t care about anything but further manufacturing herself into a version of a woman that he’d never found attractive. Natural beauties had always been Brax’s thing. Though he could appreciate a bought body, he preferred natural curves, stretch marks, or slim frames any day.

“I feel like you’re not taking me seriously,” Amalia whined.

“I feel like you’re not taking this relationship seriously. Every time we’re together, if we’re not partying or having sex, you’rehitting me up for money. Is that all I’m good for to you? Do you not desire to spend time with me and actually get to know me?”

With a shake of his head, Brax pulled his wallet out and grabbed a few hundred dollar bills to toss onto the table. Though they hadn’t been there long enough to get their food, he wanted to compensate the waitress for her time.

“Let’s go,” he told Amalia as he stood.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, as if she hadn’t taken over a minute to think about his question.

“I’m taking you home.”

“Why?”

Gently, he lifted her from the chair by her arm. “Because I can’t do this with you anymore.”

Scoffing, Amalia removed her hand from his grip. “Don’t tell me you’re upset because I told you what I wanted?”

“I’m upset because you don’t wantme,” he said quietly through gritted teeth. “I done spent damn near a million dollars on you this past year and it’s never ending. It would be different if you actually liked me for me or knew me, but you don’t. I’m done. Now you can either come out with me, or you can find another way home.”

Sucking her teeth, Amalia dismissively waved him off with her hand. “Do you see where we are? I can easily find someone to replace you at the bar. Have a good night, Brax.”

Brax shouldn’t have been surprised by her uncaring nature, but he was. To think, he’d taken time out of his busy schedule to make sure she felt adored, and she couldn’t care less about him. Not bothering to give it another moment of his time, he headed out of the restaurant and tried to keep his anger from rising. This was exactly why he wished he would have followed his first mind and stayed away from Amalia. She was yet another reminder of why he didn’t see a real relationship in his future.

1

Billie

Six Months Later

I sighed,staring at the screen in front of me. Another business card design forJoe’s Plumbing. Exciting stuff. Every time I was tasked with something like this, I couldn’t believe this was my life. Sure, I appreciated the steady flow of business but Jesus. Just once I wished a fresh, new, and exciting client file was set on my desk. It was bad enough I had to spend my days doing something I didn’t want to do. At least it could feel worth it.

Joe got a new set of business cards every year. How many ways could one make a toilet design look different? The cursor blinked, mocking my lack of inspiration. I glanced around the cramped office of my parents’ graphic design and printing company, feeling suffocated by the beige walls and the smell of cardboard and toner. This place was just as dull and lifeless as I’d been feeling since my breakup with Ian. As if it wasn’t bad enough for things to end between us, I felt like I’d wasted three years with him.

He knew he didn’t want to marry me, but he led me on anyway. Worse, he opened up a wound of insecurity that I hadn’t been able to shake since. I felt like my life had no meaning at this point. I felt like I’d failed myself somehow. Like I was supposed to be further along than I was. It didn’t matter how many times I told myself I was only twenty-five. I still felt like my life should have been filled with more than it was.

As a teenager, I swore I’d be married fresh out of college with at least one child by now. I wanted to have my own bakery and be a well-known artist to honor Mom. I had no kids, no husband, no bakery, no well-known art pieces, and three hundred and sixty eight dollars to my name. Well, that wasn’t including the twelve hundred dollars I’d saved since the breakup. Everything else had gone toward getting a small studio apartment and getting it furnished. Just thinking about the bills that had piled up over the months made me regret getting serious with Ian even more.

Something told me not to move in with him until we were married but I gave up my two bedroom apartment by the river and moved in with him. It was only five hundred bucks a month because they double reserved my one bedroom apartment, so they put me in a two bedroom, and the property manager never changed it. Now, I was paying three times that in an apartment complex downtown.

“Ugh.” I groaned, blinking my dry eyes. Regardless of how bored I was with Joe and his damn toilets, I needed to finish this project so I could get my commission.

“Billie, honey, did you finish those designs for the high school reunion T-shirts?” Mom asked from her desk.

The front office was probably twice the size of my bedroom. In the back, we had a smaller room for files and supplies, and a second room with all the printers.

“Almost done.” I lied, minimizing the plumbing business card and pulling up the T-shirt file. I’d barely started it. The good thing was it would be a quick and easy design. Trina had given me a lot to work with for the design. I’d add a little of my razzle dazzle and personal touch, but she’d done most of the thinking for me.

My mind wandered to the sketchbook hidden in my desk drawer, filled with cityscapes and abstract designs. Real art, not this small town stuff that literally anyone could do. It was crazy how my mom filled me with a dream of this life of an artist yet stifled me by making me work for her company. I imagined myself in a penthouse apartment, paintbrush in hand, creating something meaningful. It was bad enough that I wasn’t baking. Now, I hadn’t had a lot of time to focus on my art either. We were doing an early fall promotion for 40 percent off, which meant almost twice the work with no extra money.

The clock ticked loudly. Only two more hours until freedom.

“What are you doing for dinner this evening, Billie?” Mom asked. Her fingers clicked her wireless mouse as she worked on a design of her own.

---