Page 1 of Just Desserts

Chapter 1

Isla

I did a final walk through of Sugar & Spice, the bakery I had opened less than a year ago. It was the evening before Thanksgiving and the quiet in the shop was a stark contrast to the mayhem earlier in the week. I made sure all the appliances were turned off and unplugged, all the ingredients were stored correctly and had wiped down all the surfaces until they were sparkling. Finally shrugging on my jacket and grabbing my purse, I paused in the center of the shop. I couldn't help the contented sigh that slipped out as I looked around.

The warm cinnamon walls contrasted with the crisp countertops made from a white marble that swirled with gold. I had small tables scattered on the main floor. The checkout counter was attached to a vintage copper display case typically filled with a variety of pastries. I had several unique cake stands available for whatever flavor I had baked that day. Hanging on the walls there were free floating shelves displaying custom art pieces, paintings from local artists and a large photo collage wall.

This had been my dream for so long but each time I walked in here there was a sense of disbelief that it had finally come into fruition. Tilting my head to the side, I made my way over to the center of the shop to straighten the picture featured there. It was a photograph from my wedding day. My husband Jonathan and I stood front and center mid laugh surrounded by my family.

Standing behind us, my mothers cheek was pressed against her sister, my Aunt Susie with Uncle Charlie's arm wrapped around both of them. Finally my cousins Wes and Alyssa were squeezing the whole group together from each side. It had been a beautiful day surrounded by those I loved the most. I was 24 in that picture, now at 28 I couldn't be happier.

Everyday I'm grateful for my slightly unconventional family and the support system we've created for each other. My father was hit by a drunk driver when I was three. My mother never remarried and shortly after we moved to live closer to Aunt Susie and Uncle Charlie. They helped raise me alongside their two children, Wes and Alyssa.

With my dad gone, both my cousin Wes and Uncle Charlie took their jobs as my male protectors seriously. Alyssa was five years younger than me, and we were raised like sisters. Growing up, both our bedrooms had two beds because we had sleepovers often. We had been there for each other for every major life event from periods to bullies, graduations and marriage.

I took a step back, making sure all the pictures were lined up correctly before smiling. I loved it here, everything about the bakery meant something to me. This was my baby, I worked hard to make all of the decisions. My cousin Wes is a contractor and helped me design and renovate the shop to my exact specifications.

It was literally a dream come true, the only downside was the wedge it had created between me and my husband Jonathan. I sighed, a deep weariness settling into my bones. I turned the lights off and locked the doors, dragging my exhausted limbs into my car and started the ride home.

A huge feeling of relief hit me as I walked into our house. The week has been absolute madness. Owning my own bakery had a lot of perks but it also meant a lot of missed time with my family, especially around holidays. I was exhausted from allthe extra hours and orders we had. I was tired, but happy. I had worked hard to make Sugar & Spice a success.

I put my dreams on hold while Jonathan went through law school and worked to become a partner at his firm. Once he landed the position, I decided it was my turn and had started on my plans to open shop as soon as possible. After my father passed, my mother took the money we received from his life insurance policy and put it into a savings account for me. With that money, I was able to open the bakery entirely on my own.

Jonathan had made his own success, now it was my time. The bakery was my connection to my father, this place feels like ours. Jonathan had pushed against the idea. He wanted me to stay at home, focus on being a wife and eventually a mother. It was still a source of contention between us. Jonathan always talks about the bakery like it's a little side project of mine. Something I could, and should, swap for society groups to blend more with his coworkers' wives but that's not who I was.

Jonathan and I met when I was twenty. I was an undergrad at Northwestern while he was there finishing up law school. Jonathan was almost seven years older than me. I was studying business - baking was my passion and I was determined to make that a viable career. In the early years when we would lie in bed talking about our hopes and dreams of the future, he was supportive and excited about both of our plans.

Jonathan wanted to help the underdog become a big lawyer so he could take on pro bono cases. He had his life planned out, he was older and more assured, and I loved that. In retrospect, the loss of my father at an early age may have planted a subconscious pull towards a stable masculine figure in my life. In our relationship he took care of me, we were on a life trajectory, a five-year plan and he stuck with it. But over time, his goals started to morph, and I wasn't told about it.

We were no longer partners; it was all about Jonathan andhisdesires. Instead of acting as a social warrior he's spent the last few years brokering business deals for spoiled billionaires. I don't know when his goals changed, or when my dreams got sidelined so severely in his mind. He seemed shocked when I laid out my plans for the bakery once I found a location I had wanted to invest in.

Jonathan was dismissive and unsupportive when I started to put those actions into play. The last year and a half while I got the shop set up and opened had been a test on our marriage. We almost wound up in counseling after I broke down one night. He had stayed late at work, I had left the bakery early to come home and make him dinner.

I sat alone at the table drinking a bottle of wine on an empty stomach while my texts and calls went unanswered. He stumbled in a little after midnight. I had left the lights on and the food on the table before retiring to bed. I heard him curse under his breath before he walked into the bedroom. He sat down next to me and asked if I was awake. I couldn't hold the sobs in, he quickly dragged me into his arms and tried to calm me down.

"What's wrong? What's going on Isla, did something happen? Who did you have over, why are all the lights on downstairs?"

I remember the flash of anger that went through me when he asked who I had over. Yanking myself out of his arms I pushed myself up until my back was against the headboard.

"No one was over! The dinner was for you! I made your favorite foods. I tried calling and texting you, but you never answered. I feel like there's so much distance between us, we never see each other anymore. I know I've been spending a lot of time at the bakery, but I miss you, I miss my husband."

We spent the rest of the night up in bed while I poured out all my fears and concerns. Jonathan listened quietly and agreed he needed to support me more and that we had to make aconscious effort to make sure we had one on one time together. Things started to look up for a bit, Jon came by the shop more often and supported me in ways he wasn't before.

We made sure to have date nights and to make plans around our new schedules. I took a break from the bakery and threw myself into planning his 35th birthday party. I made sure we had all his favorite foods and desserts and invited his coworkers and family over to our house. I even brought in a bartender and catering service. My mother-in-law insisted on waitstaff and cleaners as well.

I wanted to impress Jonathan and show him that I cared and made sure he felt special. It was stressful and a bit fancier than my taste, but it was worth it seeing how pleased Jonathan was. That night, he was in his element, acting as the gracious host, giving tours of the house and schmoozing with the more senior partners.

These last few months though, there's been a new distance. He's been quieter, distracted and working longer hours. Then, those small biting comments about the bakery were coming back up. I was happy the holiday was tomorrow. I had closed the bakery until Monday so that Jon and I could celebrate Thanksgiving together and hopefully work some things out.

Jonathan wasn’t entirely to blame, I know part of this is my fault. I've been so absorbed in getting everything set up and then creating the daily menus, schedules and adjusting to my new routines that I was home far less and emotionally unavailable and inattentive towards Jonathan. That's why I had planned a romantic weekend away for us.

We had Thanksgiving at his parents' tomorrow then I was going to whisk us away to a cabin I rented a couple hours north. I was going to surprise him with the news about the cabin when I got in tonight. I rushed to get home early, missing my husband and desperately wanting to reconnect. I closed thedoor behind me and quickly slipped my shoes off, breathing a sigh of relief as my toes dug into the soft carpet.

I had been on my feet since 4am and every part of my body was weary, but I was happy. The shop was thriving. The number of orders were a testament to that. Now I could take a breath and relax. Focus on home life and not work for a bit. I climbed the stairs slowly, my legs protesting. When I got to the second-floor landing, I noticed a light coming from my husband's office door. I headed toward the room but stopped when I heard a high-pitched giggle.

"I should go; she might come home soon." A breathless, feminine voice urged.

"It's the night before Thanksgiving she's going to be slaving away at that silly coffee shop until midnight. Forget about her and get back to what you were doing.” My husband replied. I recognized his voice, his presence in that room now undeniable.

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