The Sweet Spot

14

The bakery felt too quiet after Sam left, as if the air had been sucked out of the room. My thoughts were a jumble, spinning with conflicting emotions, and I wasn't sure where to go from here. The tension that had been simmering under the surface between Oliver and me, combined with Sam's reappearance and Jenna's veiled threats, was starting to take its toll.

I spent the rest of the evening mechanically going through the motions—cleaning up, preparing for the next day—but my mind was elsewhere. I couldn't shake the feeling that everything was starting to unravel, and I had no idea how to stop it.

The next morning, I found Oliver already in the bakery kitchen, going through the day's prep list. He didn't say anything when I walked in, but I could feel the tension radiating off him. We worked in silence for a while, the only sounds the soft clinking of metal bowls and the hum of the oven. The unspoken weight of the previous evening's events hung between us, heavy and oppressive.

Finally, I couldn't take the silence anymore.

"About last night," I began, my voice tentative.

Oliver didn't look up from the dough he was kneading, but I saw his jaw tighten slightly. "What about it?"

I hesitated, unsure how to navigate the conversation. "I'm sorry you had to leave like that. I didn't mean to push you out."

He paused for a moment, then straightened, wiping his hands on a towel. "You didn't push me out, Charlotte. I figured you needed space to deal with... him."

The way he said him sent a shiver down my spine. There was no mistaking the disdain in his voice when it came to Sam, and I knew Oliver was trying to keep his feelings in check, but it was clear he wasn't thrilled about my ex-husband showing up.

"I didn't ask him to come back," I said quietly, leaning against the counter. "I don't know what to do about Sam. He says he wants to be a part of Elliot's life, but I don't know if I can trust him."

Oliver met my gaze, his eyes dark with something I couldn't quite read. "What do you want?"

The question hit harder than I expected. What did I want? I had spent so long focusing on protecting Elliot and running the bakery that I hadn't allowed myself to think about my own needs, my own desires. Sam's return had thrown everything into chaos, and I wasn't sure where I fit into it all.

"I want to do what's best for Elliot," I said, though even as the words left my mouth, I knew they didn't fully answer the question.

Oliver studied me for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "And what about you, Charlotte? What do you want?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. I didn't know how to answer that. My life had been so focused on keeping things together for Elliot, for the bakery, that I hadn't stopped to consider what I wanted anymore.

"I... I don't know," I admitted, feeling a lump rise in my throat.

Oliver's expression softened, and for the first time since Sam had come back into the picture, I saw a flicker of something that looked like understanding. He stepped closer, his presence comforting in a way I hadn't expected.

"You don't have to figure it all out right now," he said, his voice low and steady. "But don't forget that you deserve to think about yourself, too."

His words settled over me like a blanket, soothing the frayed edges of my nerves. For so long, I had put everyone else first—Elliot, the bakery, even Sam, in a way—but maybe it was time to consider what I needed, too. Maybe I had been avoiding that part of the equation out of fear of what it might mean.