Page 42 of Always the Baker

I sank down onto the coffee table across from her, my legs suddenly weak. “Sweetheart, whatever it is, just tell me. Please.”

She nodded, wiping at her eyes. “Okay. Well, like I said earlier, I’m not who you think I am. I’m not…” Billie’s voice trembled as she spoke. “When you came and sat down beside me, I’d just arrived in the city. I wanted a weekend away, a little bit of excitement, you know? It was only supposed to be a couple of days, that was it. Then you sat down and changed everything.”

I blinked, trying to process her words.

“I work at my parents’ printing and graphic design company in a tiny town you’ve probably never heard of,” she continued. Her words tumbled out faster now. “Jasper Lane. I’d saved up for months to do something… wild. I hadn’t even decided what yet, until I decided I’d come to the city. I’ve never been far from home alone and Mom kept piling work on me, and more work, until, well, I guess I ran away.

“Not to mention the fact that my ex broke up with me because I wasn’t as successful as he wanted me to be. He said I should have been more advanced than I am, which is true, butI’ve devoted my time and energy to my family and our business. It wasn’t my intention to not be further along in life. To not be a well-known artist or sought after baker. Then his fucking fiancée asked me to bake their wedding cake six months after we broke up.” She scoffed and shook her head as it hung. “And when you approached me, you made me feel important. You made me feel like I mattered. You made me feel wanted. You gave me a chance to be the version of myself I always wanted to be.”

My mind reeled. All those stories about her life in the city, her job, her friends, they’d all been lies. I stood up abruptly.

“So, everything you told me about your life here, it was all made up?”

“Not really. I do paint and bake, just… not the way I made it seem. There’s no mural. I don’t live here. Everything else was true. You’re you, and I didn’t want you to think I was a nobody.”

I paced the room, trying to make sense of it all. The girl I’d fallen for, the one who’d matched my energy and shared my dreams… had she even been real?

“I don’t understand. Why didn’t you just tell me the truth from the beginning?”

Billie stood up, reaching for me, but I stepped back. “I was scared. You’re this amazing man, and I’m just little ol’ me. A small town girl with big dreams and not much else.”

I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. “So, you thought lying was the answer? Damn it, Billie. I trusted you.”

It looked like she physically shrunk at the sound of my words as tears poured. The battle to stand on how I felt versus sweeping it under the rug to avoid her pain was real.

“I know. I messed up. I just... I didn’t want to lose you.”

I laughed bitterly. “Yet you lied and made it impossible for me to want to be with you.”

The silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating. I couldn’t look at her, couldn’t reconcile the Billie I thought Iknew with this stranger standing in front of me. The main thing that made me feel confident in pursuing her was the realness. The truth that seemed to pour from her. The normality of her life. How we bonded over art and our dreams. All that had been stripped away. I paced the penthouse living room, running my fingers down my face. Billie stood by the window, her arms wrapped around herself, looking small and vulnerable.

“Brax, I’m so sorry.” Her voice was barely over a whisper. “I never meant to hurt you. I just, I was afraid you wouldn’t want me if you knew the truth.”

I turned to face her, my chest tight. “You really think that little of me? That I’d reject you because you’re from a small town? Because you aren’t famous or from the city? Because you’re not a well-known artist?”

Her eyes met mine, and they were filled with regret. “It’s not just that. You’re this incredible singer, living this amazing life, and I’m just a graphic artist who paints in her spare time. I felt so out of my league. Then I had the trauma of my ex. I kept thinking about what he said the day we broke up. Those insecurities. I didn’t want a repeat of that with you.”

I shook my head. “That’s not fair, Hopkins. To me or to yourself. I thought we had something real here. I opened up to you, shared parts of myself I don’t show anyone else.”

“Wedidhave something real!” Billie insisted, taking a step toward me. “Everything between us was genuine. I just embellished my background a bit.”

“A bit? You created a whole fake life!”

Billie recoiled, and I immediately felt guilty. But the hurt was still there, raw and pulsing.

“I know, and I hate myself for it. But please believe me when I say that the girl you got to know, that’s the real me. My feelings for you, our connection, that’s all true.”

I wanted to believe her, but the trust between us had been shattered, and I didn’t know how to put it back together.

The weight of her confession settled on my shoulders. “I need some time, sweetheart. This is a lot to process.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

I turned away, walking toward the opposite side of the windows. The city was sprawled out before me in a sea of lights that suddenly felt cold and distant. I heard Billie’s soft footsteps behind me but didn’t turn around.

“Brax?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I think, um, I think it’s best if I go.”

My chest tightened at her words, but I couldn’t bring myself to argue.

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