Sugar Sweet Sin

A Date

It will never be over.

The words haunt me. Torment me. Two days later, when I'm bent over a birthday cake in my bakery, they still bounce around in my head, still make my stomach twist and my breath quicken and my heart stutter.

Because he's right, isn't he?

It's been three years. Three years should be more than enough time to get over someone, even the guy who took your virginity. Even the first—and only—guy you've ever loved. Three years should be more than enough time to get on with your life—assuming you're a normal, well-adjusted person.

I chew on my lip as I apply a scalloped band of frosting along the top edge of the cake. I'm perched on a stool today—a necessary adjustment, considering my ankle—and it feels unnatural. Normally I can lose myself in my work—hands-on vocations are wonderful for such things—but today I can't seem to find my zone. I suppose I should be grateful that it was my left wrist, not my right, that was hurt—that would have restricted me even more, and I'm having a hard enough time operating as normal.

It will never be over.

It doesn't make sense. The thing Dante and I had was never supposed to last. He's rich, famous, talented, unbelievably attractive... and I'm the ordinary girl he wouldn't even introduce to his family. He's not allowed to come back to me now and act like I am the one in denial.

I squeeze the bag in my hand a little too hard, causing a glob of frothy pink frosting to squirt onto the cake.

"Are you all right?" Mama Pat asks from her workstation. She must think I've completely lost it.

I force a smile. "Just got a cramp in my hand."

"Maybe you should take a break," she says. "You've been pushing yourself very hard recently. And you're nursing an injury."

"A sprained ankle shouldn't keep me from baking," I counter. "And I feel better when I'm keeping busy."

She nods, but I know she sees right through my bullshit. "Just be patient with yourself."

When she first heard about my injuries, Mama Pat tried to convince me to take a few days off, maybe even a week. She's always telling me that I work too hard, keep too many hours. And it's not that I don't believe she and Karen and Jilly can't manage things without me. But this bakery has been my entire life for these past few years, and I can't imagine walking away from it, even for that long. I'm still building my business—my baby. It needs me. And I need it. I'd go crazy sitting at home all day with nothing to distract me from those words. It will never be over.

Dante is off doing press for Cataclysm: Earth. It's only an accident that I know that, but I was flipping through the TV last night and saw it on one of the entertainment channels. Part of me is relieved that he's busy, but the other part... well, that part is better left unexamined.

It will never be over...

I drop the icing bag on the table. Even work isn't enough to distract me today, which means I need to find another way to get myself past all of this madness. If I actually had a boyfriend, I'd suggest a weekend away together. Or something equally diverting...

But maybe that's it. Maybe this is just the kick in the pants I need to put myself out there again, to actually date for once in my life. Of course my relationship with Dante is going to seem like a big deal when it's the only serious relationship I've ever had. I need to broaden my horizons a little. Explore some other options.

Which is easier said than done, of course, especially since most of the men who walk into my bakery are married—or here to pick out their wedding cakes with their fiancées, which is more or less the same thing as far as I'm concerned.