Page 37 of Ashes of Us
He left before I could respond.
I stood there in the empty gym, staring at my reflection in the mirror-paneled wall. He was right. I looked like shit. Dark circles under my eyes, face drawn, the kind of exhausted that came from not sleeping right in months.
It had been a year since Piper walked out of our apartment with a duffel bag and her dignity, and I still couldn't get her out of my head.
The cupcakes had made it worse. Before, she'd been abstract… a memory I could keep at a distance if I worked hard enough. But tasting that buttercream, seeing that logo, knowing she was right there in Riverside building something without me...
It made her real again.
I grabbed my phone from where I'd left it on the weight bench. Pulled up Google Maps before I could stop myself. Typed in "Rise & Shine Bakery Riverside."
The listing popped up immediately. 4.9 stars from 247 reviews. There were photos of the storefront too—exposed brick, yellow awning, the kind of clean, minimalist aesthetic Piper had always loved. More photos of pastries arranged artfully in a display case. Croissants, cinnamon rolls, elaborate cakes with perfect fondant work.
All hers.
I scrolled through the reviews.
Best bakery in Riverside! The owner is so sweet and the lemon bars are life-changing.
Finally, a place that takes baking seriously. You can tell everything is made with care.
My daughter's birthday cake was PERFECT. Piper worked with us on every detail and it exceeded our expectations.
Piper. Her name right there in the reviews, customers talking about her like she was a fixture in their lives now. Like she belonged to Riverside in a way she'd never belonged to me.
My thumb hovered over the photos. There… in the background of one shot, behind the counter. Blonde hair pulled back in a way I'd never seen her wear it, longer than she usedto keep it, almost to her shoulders now. There was flour on her black apron. She looked leaner, like all those hours on her feet had carved away the softness I remembered. Stronger somehow. And she was caught mid-laugh at something someone had said, her whole face lit up in a way that made my chest ache.
She looked happy.
Actually, genuinely happy in a way I wasn't sure I'd ever seen her when we were together. Not the smile she'd give me when she was tired but trying. Not the careful happiness of someone managing everyone else's expectations. This was unguarded. Real.
She looked beautiful.
Different, but beautiful. Like she'd grown into herself in the year since I'd seen her, shed something heavy she'd been carrying. And I was suddenly, painfully aware that I'd been part of that weight.
I closed the app and shoved my phone in my pocket.
I should be happy for her. Should be grateful she'd moved on, built something incredible, found her footing after I'd blown up her life. A better man would be happy for her, wouldn’t he?
But I wasn't a better man. I was the asshole who'd cheated on her and lost her and spent every day since wondering if I'd ever stop regretting it.
I left the gym and headed for the showers, but even under scalding water she wouldn’t leave my head. Her name, her face, that bakery… all of it was looping like a fire I couldn’t put out.
And I could go see her.
I shouldn't. I knew I shouldn't. She'd made it clear she wanted nothing to do with me. But remembering she was that close, that I could walk into her bakery and see her face, hear her voice...
I got dressed, threw my gym bag in my locker, and walked out to my truck before I could talk myself out of it.
The drive to Riverside took over two hours. I hit traffic outside the city, sat in gridlock with my hands clenched on the steering wheel, half hoping the universe would take the choice away from me. Turn me around and make this impossible.
But traffic cleared and the exit for Riverside came up. And I took it.
Main Street looked different than I remembered. New shops, a renovated crosswalk, the bookshop Piper loved had been replaced by some organic juice bar. Everything familiar had shifted just enough to feel like a different town entirely.
Then I saw it.
Rise & Shine Bakery. Corner of Main and Fifth, exactly where that old antique shop used to be. The storefront had floor-to-ceiling windows, exposed brick, that cheerful yellow awning from the photos. Through the glass I could see customers in line, someone behind the counter ringing up orders.
