Page 3 of Sweet Rucking Temptation
"Ricky?" I squeak, flour puffing from my hands as they clench involuntarily.
My ex-fiancé strolls in, all perfect slicked back dark hair and megawatt smile. "Hey, Liv! Fancy running into you here."
I want to scream, "It's my café, you dingbat!" Instead, I manage a strangled, "What a surprise."
Mom's eyes light up like I've just presented her with a tray of her favorite cannoli. "Ricky! How wonderful to see you. Why don't you join us?"
As Ricky slides onto the stool next to Mom, his expensive suit matching her outfit, I have a sudden urge to dive into my industrial-sized mixer. Maybe if I spin fast enough, I'll wake up from this nightmare.
"Liv," Mom says, her voice dripping with honey-sweet manipulation, "doesn't Ricky look handsome today? He's been promoted at the Bank, you know."
I nod mechanically, my hands automatically reaching for a rolling pin. Not to bake—to steady myself. Or maybe to bonk myself unconscious.
"You two always made such a lovely couple." Mom’s eyes dart between us like she's watching a tennis match. "So well-matched. Both from good families, both educated?—"
"Mom," I interject, my voice strained, "Ricky and I aren't?—"
"Now, now." She waves a manicured hand. "The past is the past. You're both single, successful... well, mostly successful." She offers a pointed look at my apron.
My cheeks burn hotter than my wood-fired oven. "Mom, please?—"
"Liv," Ricky chimes in, flashing that toothpaste-commercial smile, "your mom's right. Maybe we should give it another shot. I've grown up a lot since... you know."
Since you cheated on me with your intern?I grip my rolling pin tighter, knuckles white against the wood.
"I appreciate the thought," I say, surprising myself with how steady my voice sounds, "but I'm happy with my life right now. My café, my baking—it's not just a job. It's my passion."
Mom sighs dramatically. "Passion doesn't pay the bills, tesoro. Or give me grandchildren."
I close my eyes, inhaling the comforting scent of vanilla and cinnamon. When I open them, I meet Mom's gaze directly. "Maybe not. But it makes me happy. And that's worth something too."
The words hang in the air, fragrant as freshly baked brioche. Mom's lips purse like she's tasted something sour, while Ricky's smile falters, a crack in his perfect veneer.
I turn away, busying myself with the espresso machine. The familiar hiss and gurgle grounds me, even as my thoughts churn like whipped cream.
"You know, Liv…" Ricky's voice cuts through the café's ambient chatter. "I always admired your determination. Even if I didn't... understand it back then."
I glance over my shoulder. For a fleeting moment, I see a glimpse of the boy I once loved. But the memory of tear-stained pillows and shattered trust floods back, and I steel myself.
"Thanks, Ricky," I say, my tone polite but firm. "But I'm not looking for admiration. I'm looking for respect."
Mom huffs, but I ignore her, focusing on the velvety stream of coffee filling the cup. The rich aroma wraps around me like a hug from Nonna Sofia, bolstering my resolve.
Ricky kisses my mom’s hand, and waves to me. “I’ll see you around,bella.”
Yeah, hopefully never. I wipe a non-existent spill on the counter like wiping him away out of my life.
The bell chimes again, and a group of regulars spills in, their laughter filling the café.
"Liv!" calls out Mrs. Henderson, a silver-haired woman with twinkling eyes. "Those cinnamon rolls smell divine! You've outdone yourself again, dear."
I smile, genuine this time. "Grazie, Mrs. Henderson. They'll be ready in just a moment."
As I turn back to Mama, I see something flicker across her face – surprise, maybe even a hint of pride? But it's gone in an instant, replaced by her usual mask of disapproval.
"Well," she says, smoothing her blazer. "I can see you're busy with your... customers. We'll discuss this another time, Liv."
As she turns to leave, I call out, "Mama, wait." I quickly box up a cinnamon roll, still warm from the oven. "Please, try it. For me?"
