Page 50 of The Baby Dragon Bakery
Theo shook his head, shrugging. “It’s fine.” What was really bothering him was this whole thing with Lavinia, not his parents, anyway.
“It’s not fine,” Beena replied, brows furrowed. “No one is allowed to make you upset.”
She pinched his cheek, the way she used to when he was a kid, and that got a smile out of him, which made her expression brighten as well.
He had always been able to talk about things with Beena: if he should try out for the school’s football team or not; what colleges he should apply to; if he should take culinary courses in addition to his business degree.
Maybe he could discuss his feelings for Lavinia with her, too? She had never steered him wrong before.
“So, what did you guys get up to yesterday?” Theo asked, leaning against the counter. He figured he would ease into it.
“Oh, nothing much,” Beena replied, taking a sip of herwater. “Lavinia was out with Calahan, and Alfie had plans with his friends, so Garrett and I stayed in reading together.”
Theo’s stomach twisted. “Oh.” Lavinia hadn’t mentioned she’d had a date yesterday. “Calahan—have you met him?”
Beena nodded. “We’ve met him at the cafe, and he seems like a wonderful boy! He has a good head on his shoulders, and I think he’s great for Lavinia.” She smiled, and it was clear just how happy she was.
His heart catapulted and crashed.
Beena was right; Calahanwaswonderful. And in comparison, Theo was . . . not. Of course Beena wanted her daughter to go out with an accomplished adult. Of course she was pleased.
Just like Theo should have been, just like heshouldbe. Instead of being selfish, hoping that things weren’t working out between Lavinia and Calahan so that Theo could have a chance.
“Yeah . . . Yes, he’s great,” Theo agreed, swallowing the lump in his throat.
Theo needed to give up now, before he went too far. He knew that was the wise thing to do, therightthing to do, and yet . . . it still made him sick. He wanted her, and he didn’t know how to stop wanting her.
He didn’t think he could.
Chapter 19
Lavinia remembered when she was a kid, maybe about six or seven. She was meant to be asleep, but she’d heard her parents laughing downstairs. So she had tiptoed down, following the noise.
She had hid behind the wall, and peered around the corner at her parents in the kitchen, where Beena had been washing the dishes and Garrett was drying them. Beena had laughed at something Garrett had said, and he’d taken her soapy hand, twirling her around, and then they were dancing, both humming along to the same tune.
Lavinia had stood and watched, smiling to herself at how happy they were. She’d giggled, then clapped a hand over her mouth, since she was supposed to be sleeping, but Beena had heard. Rather than scolding Lavinia, her parents had both held out a hand for her, and she’d bounced over to join them, the three of them dancing together.
Garrett had lifted her up onto the kitchen table, and her parents had danced around her, singing together while Lavinia twirled on the tabletop in her pajamas and bare feet.
That moment had felt like it was made of gold, even as she’d lived it, and now the memory was shiny and radiant every time she returned to it.
Even then, she knew what her parents had was rare and precious. Since then, she’d dreamed of finding a love like that for herself, a love that turned the mundane into magic.
Now she was with Calahan, and she was so sure he was everything a good partner should be: kind, caring, attentive. Not to mention handsome and a good kisser, too.
But she wasn’t sure if what they had could be called true love.
Maybe she was thinking too much—which she decidedly shouldn’t have been doing because it was only making her doubt, and there was no time for doubts. If she couldn’t make things work with Perfect Calahan, she was resigned to being alone for the rest of her life.
She knew that not everybody found romance in their life, and that to live without romantic love was not the worst thing in the world, but the prospect frightened her as it seemed to presage the worst kind of future: the idea of a very long life without any of the companionship that she had grown up witnessing in her parents.
Lavinia groaned, focusing her attention on what was in front of her. She was in the library at university, her laptop and textbook spread in front of her, and she was supposed to be studying. She pushed her glasses back on her nose.
“Focus,” she muttered to herself, but her gaze strayed to the windows lining the walls.
It was drizzling outside, the atmosphere misted and foggy. Gray clouds marbled the sky, adding a dull cast to the schoolgrounds. The wind rustled the branches of the trees, some of which had already lost all their leaves. Autumn was passing quickly, bringing winter closer and closer.
She was listening to a playlist titled “you’re writing love letters in an ancient library during autumn” and she wished that was what she was doing here, instead of studying the particulars of administering anesthesia to griffins.
