“Thank you.” I take a deep breath. “I’m really proud of me too.” She nods and we both fall into a comfortable silence. I’m not sure what Mia’s thinking about, but I’m thinking about tomorrow because the closer I get to tomorrow, the more nervous I become. I shouldn’t be. I’ve been preparing myself for weeks now, and I should want to get started so I can get it over with. Unfortunately, it’s not that easy, because as much as it is a means to an end, there is no guarantee it will work.

  If I’m being honest, I’m scared . . . and if I’m truly being honest with myself, scared probably isn’t even the right word. I’m terrified. I’ve spent way too much time on Google, and as much good information as it’s given me, there’s been just as much bad—and the bad scares the crap out of me.

  I close my eyes and count to ten . . . slowly. It’s been my thing ever since surgery. Right before I went under, the anesthesiologist told me to count to ten, and somewhere around four I drifted into a peaceful sleep. So now when I find myself getting worked up and anxious, I stop and count to ten. Usually by the time I get to one, I’ve been able to calm myself down.

  “Are you scared?” Mia asks. I look at her, but she’s looking down at her hands. I guess we were thinking about the same thing. I throw myself back on the bed and stare up at the ceiling. The fan is on low and my eyes lock on a single blade, following as it goes around and around. Once again, I find myself counting.

  I’ve tried really hard to put up a good front with Mia. I don’t need to drown her in all of my worries. What I do need is for her to stay positive, and if she’s going to stay positive, then she has to think I’m staying positive. But it doesn’t matter how good my façade is, sometimes the truth seeps through.

  “Yes. But it’s a different sort of scared. It’s not the-boogie-man-is-gonna-get-me sort of scared or a crap-there’s-a-spider sort of scared.” Mia lies back on the bed and I feel her soft hand grip mine. I squeeze it, allowing her to anchor me to the here and now. “It’s hard to explain, but it’s a panicky type of fear. When I start thinking about it, my heart starts racing, my mind goes a mile a minute and I can literally feel adrenaline pumping through my body. But the adrenaline makes me shaky and nervous, and it doesn’t matter how many deep breaths I take or how many times I count to ten, it’s still there nagging at me. Because when push comes to shove, it’s still my reality. A reality I have to face, and sometimes that alone is terrifying.” I can feel Mia watching me so I turn my head. Her eyes aren’t filled with pity, thank God, because that’s the last thing I want. But they are shining with sorrow.

  “I wish it was someone else,” she croaks, swallowing hard. “There are thousands of bad people in the world, but it happened to you.” I watch her eyes fill with tears and then I look away. It’s pathetic of me really; that I’m unable to look my best friend in the face when it’s obvious that she is struggling with this almost as much as I am. But I’ve cried my fair share of tears and although I’m certain my tear ducts have yet to dry up, I don’t want to cry tonight. Somehow I know that if I watch Mia break, then I’ll shatter right along with her.

  “I’m glad it’s me.” She gasps, startled by my words, and I rush to try and explain. “If it wasn’t me, it would be someone else, and I would never wish this upon someone else. You know that saying that God will only give you what you can handle?”

  She nods.

  “Sometimes I tell myself that he just thinks I’m really strong and I can handle it, whereas someone else couldn’t.”

  “Does that help?” she asks. “Does that make you feel better about it?”

  “No, but it eases my mind. Sometimes when I’m having a good day, it brings me peace, however temporary it may be. But no, it doesn’t make me feel better.”

  “Peace,” she whispers, seemingly trying the word on for size. “I want you to have peace.”

  “Are you going with me tomorrow?” I ask, needing to step away from the heavy talk, even though tomorrow will bring more of the same.

  “I think I’m going to let you and Luke go. I was there for you through your surgery, and I think that Luke wants to be the one there for you through this.” I understand where she’s coming from, and a part of me wants Luke to be the only one to go. But as much as Luke is my brother, Mia is my sister.

  “There’s plenty of me to go around,” I joke. “And I’m sure Luke won’t mind sharing.”

  Mia smiles and shakes her head. “Not this time. I think he needs this more than you know.”

  I sigh, bringing my arm up to rest it over my head. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

  “Of course I’m right.” She slaps my legs and sits up, effectively shutting down the conversation. “I’m always right. Now let’s find you a hot little shirt that will drive Levi crazy tonight.”

  “I don’t need a hot little shirt; I wear a jacket when I cook.”

  “You do?” she asks, furrowing her brow. “I thought maybe that was just on TV.”

  “Nope,” I laugh. “I wear one every time I’m in the kitchen, and since I’ll have the coat on, there will be no need for a ‘hot little shirt.’ Plus, I think Levi is avoiding me.”

  ”What? Why?”

  “Because I haven’t seen him at all since I started. On Monday, Mason was there waiting for me and he did all of my intro stuff, and then on Tuesday I jumped right in with the rest of the crew. I haven’t seen him once.” I hate that I haven’t seen him. I want to see him.

  “But didn’t you say that he told you Mason was supposed to be running Flame and he runs Blue?”

  “Well . . . yeah.” I kind of forgot about that. I just assumed that since Levi was the one to ‘hire’ me, he would be there when I started my shift. But he wasn’t . . . it was Mason. Don’t get me wrong, it was really great seeing Mason. I always did have a sweet spot for that kid. But he isn’t really a kid anymore and his rugged good looks mimic his older brother’s in just about every way, making it a little hard to be around him.

  Mia pushes up from the bed and saunters to the closet. She thumbs through the hangers quickly before stopping at a red blouse. “What time do you get off tonight?”

  “Tonight, I get off at nine. Why?” I’m not sure what she’s cooking up, but it can’t be good. She tugs the blouse from the hanger and grabs a skirt next to it.

  “Where are your black heels?”

  “I’m not wearing heels to work. They’ll kill my feet.”

  “No, silly. I mean for after work.” Bending down, she starts rummaging through my shoes, standing up quickly with an excited grin when she finds what she’s looking for.

  “Found ’em!”

  “Tell me again why I need an outfit with heels?”

  “Because we’re going to have a few drinks after you get off.” No. No, that isn’t going to work.

  “I can’t, Mia. I have to be at the doctor’s office at nine o’clock in the morning and I need to have a completely clear mind.”

  “And you will have a clear mind. We’re only going for one drink . . . okay, maybe two. But it’ll help you relax and maybe you’ll sleep better.”

  I roll my eyes and push up from the bed. “I’ll sleep just fine without the alcohol.”

  “No, you won’t. You’ll toss and turn and worry about it all night, and then you’ll be exhausted in the morning and you won’t hear a damn word the doctor has to say. This way, you’ll have a few glasses of wine—just enough to make you sleepy—you’ll go home and crash, get a good night’s sleep and you’ll wake up refreshed and alert. And somewhere along the way, you might catch a glimpse of Levi.”

  Mia doesn’t know about the ultimatum Levi gave me eight years ago. All she knows is that I left him. She thinks I chose school over him and walked away . . . which is what I did. But it’s not the whole story. I don’t want her to know the whole story because I don’t want her to think poorly of Levi.

  Yes, he gave the ultimatum, but I pulled the trigger. I made the choice, and if she is going to think poorly of anyone, I want it to be me. However, this is Mia and she’ll never think poorly of me. She just tells me I was young and stupid, and if I really want him back in my life, I need to do a little groveling. Which I’m prepared to do . . . if he ever shows his face and gives me the chance.

  “Fine,” I concede, knowing it’s much easier to comply with her. “What are you going to do until I get off?” She tosses my shoes on the bed with the rest of my outfit and starts digging through her suitcase.

  “I’m probably going to hang with Benny.” Her head pops up over the edge of my bed. “Maybe I can get him to come out with us.” She looks hopeful so I really don’t want to burst her bubble, but Benny doesn’t go out. If he does, he sure as hell wouldn’t go to Blue. Benny isn’t a ‘club’ kind of guy.

  “Good luck with that,” I mumble, slipping on my shoes. “I’ll text you when I get off.”

  “Sounds good,” she says, her head once again buried in her suitcase. Shirts are flying left and right, and I duck when a sandal flies at my head.

  “And you’ll bring my outfit so I can change when you get there?” I ask.

  “Yup.” I duck again but not soon enough, and I take a red lace bra to the face.

  “Mia, how many clothes did you bring?” I toss the bra on the floor at the same time she pops back up with a black scrap of material clutched in her hand.

  “Got it!” She wiggles her hips in excitement and waves the silky shirt in front of her. “Benny is going to shit when he sees me in this.”

  Well, that catches my attention. A cat-ate-the-canary grin slips into place at the thought of my two friends hooking up. “You have a thing for Benny,” I taunt, resulting in a stink eye from Mia.

  “Do not,” she huffs. “I just think it’s fun to mess with him”—she shrugs—“and he’s sort of hot so . . .” She trails off and I shake my head.

  “Please don’t play games with him. He’s been through a lot,” I say, no longer joking. She looks up at me and I half expect her to ask me what all he has been through, but she doesn’t. I’m glad because it’s not my story to tell.

  “I won’t play games with him, Lane,” she says, her face sober. “I really like Ben. He’s a great guy.” Ben? Since when does she call him Ben?

  “So he’s Ben, huh?” I tease . . . sort of. I really want to know what that’s about.

  “I don’t know.” She sits on the bed again and fiddles with the hem of her shirt. “We’ve been hanging out the past couple of days that you’ve been at work and we’ve had a lot of fun together. I enjoy spending time with him.”

  Mia hasn’t always had the best luck with men and most of the guys that she associates with aren’t so ‘great,’ so I’m sure she appreciates being around someone as kind and attentive as Benny. Even if he calls her every princess name known to mankind.

  I pat her leg and she looks at me. I’m not sure what I see floating around in her eyes, but it almost looks like she wants my approval.

  “Have fun tonight,” I say with a wink, reaching for my purse. She follows me through the house, and I stop to grab my recipe book then shove it in my purse. Just as I reach for the door, it opens and Benny walks in. I give him a knowing smile and push past him. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” I throw over my shoulder as I walk to my car. I swear I hear Benny say, “Well shit, that doesn’t leave us with many options.”

  The drive to Flame is short and it’s still fairly early, so the parking lot is empty when I arrive. I gather my things and head into the restaurant. The hostess—I think her name is Jamie—is setting up the tables and I wave at her. A soft melody floats through the air and I smile. Everything about this place is familiar and it makes me happy. It makes me feel safe.

  Mason pushes his way through the heavy door that leads to the kitchen and stops right before plowing into me. “Hey, Laney,” he says with a smile, but I keep going in the direction he just came from. As much as I love Mason, he’s not Levi, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed to walk in here—yet again—to no Levi. It probably sounds stupid of me, but I really thought I’d gotten somewhere with him the other night. I know he was shocked to see me, but there were points during our conversation that he looked genuinely happy. So the fact that he has gone MIA when he knew I would be here working rubs me the wrong way.

  “Hey, Mason.” I know he follows me because I can hear him behind me. I set my purse down on the counter and reach for my white jacket that’s hanging on the back of the door. This I can handle. Put me in a kitchen, let me cook, and I’m good to go.

  “You okay?” he asks. Pulling my recipe book from my purse, I turn to find Mason watching me, his hip propped against one of the sinks.

  “Fine, you?” I can tell by the look on his face that he knows I’m lying. He smiles and points toward my book.

  “What’s that?”

  I smile, giddy about what I have planned, hoping that he doesn’t mind. “This,” I say dramatically, picking up the spiral-bound book, “is my recipe book. I was hoping we could try a few new dessert items out.”

  “That’s a great idea—”

  “No,” Levi interrupts, barreling through the door. “We aren’t changing the menu.” His words are clipped and final, his eyes hard—and oh so sexy.

  “I’m not trying to change the menu. I’m just trying to spice it up. You have the exact same dessert options that you had eight years ago,” I defend, hoping I’ll get him to cave. Mason looks at me apologetically but doesn’t step in . . . and I don’t blame him. His big brother is a force to be reckoned with, and you have to be prepared to go up against him. Lucky for me, I’m prepared. “How many desserts do you sell a night?”

  Levi looks to Mason, who shrugs. “I don’t know . . . maybe ten to twenty, roughly.”

  “That’s it?” Levi barks.

  “It’s because your dessert options are boring, Levi,” I tell him. “People don’t want to buy a dessert from you that they can just as easily make at home. They want something new and exciting, something fresh. They want to pay for something warm and delicious here so they don’t have to go home and spend hours prepping and baking.”

  “I think it’s a great idea,” Mason says, grabbing my recipe book and flipping through it. “Plus, Flame is mine so it’s my decision.”

  “Wrong,” Levi snaps, pulling the book from Mason. “Flame is ours. It doesn’t matter if you’re running it, we both make the decisions.” Levi stops and I watch as his eyes roam over one of the pages. He looks up at me and then back down at the recipe. “Can I borrow this?”

  I hesitate, biting on the inside of my lip. That recipe book is like a Bible to me. When I’m feeling any sort of emotion, I bake, and even though I know all of those recipes by heart, I don’t want anything to happen to it. Levi must notice my hesitation because he adds, “Just for tonight. I’ll look through it, pick out a few and you can make them for Mason and me, then we’ll go from there. That okay?”

  I nod, happy that he’s at least considering it. Levi walks out without a second glance and Mason smirks.

  “What? What are you smiling at?” I ask him.

  “You’ve got his undies so twisted up he can’t fucking see straight.” How the hell he got that out of the little conversation we just had, I have no idea.

  “Really? Have you noticed that he’s been conveniently missing since the moment I started here?” Seriously, how am I supposed to weasel my way back into his life if he won’t even come near me?

  Mason shakes his head. “He hasn’t been missing.” Now this piques my interest. “He’s been watching from afar. I’m telling you . . . you coming back home has got him all sorts of discombobulated.” I was hoping my return would affect him, but I’m not sure I like hearing it put quite like that.

  “Why do you say that?”

  Mason runs a hand along his neck and looks down before he meets my curious gaze. “Fuck. I shouldn’t say anything because it’s none of my business.” I watch him, eyebrows raised, urging him to continue. “Fine,” he moans, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You being here has messed with his head, Lane. Don’t take that the wrong way, because I think he’s genuinely glad to see you. But he wasn’t expecting it, and now he doesn’t know what to do or how to act. I think he’s been hiding out because he’s afraid to be around you.”

  I can’t say I’m surprised. I think if my situation were any different than what it is, I’d be confused and nervous too. But it’s not, and I don’t necessarily have time on my side to mess with those types of feelings. “I’m not sure what to do with that, Mase.”

  “I’m not sure there is anything you can do,” he replies, his eyes apologetic. “I think it’s just something that will take time. He needs to get used to you being here, but I think seeing you every day will help with that. Personally, I’m thrilled you’re back.”

  Mason and I always did have fun working together, but it was more of a brother-sister type of friendship. When Levi gave me the ultimatum, Mason sided with me, which did not sit well with Big Brother . . . at all. “He’ll come around, Lane, just give him time.”

  There’s that word again. Time. If only I knew how much time I have left.

  I give him a tight smile and walk toward the door. “Where are you going?” I hear from behind me.

  “To talk to Levi.” I push the door open and pause to look back at Mason, who has a huge grin on his face. “Aren’t you going to try and stop me?”

  He shakes he head. “Hell no.” And that’s all I need. The door swings shut behind me, muting Mason’s laughter. I have absolutely no idea what I’m going to say to Levi, but I feel like I have to say something. I don’t want him to be uncomfortable, and if my being here is making it that hard on him, then I’ll leave. I stop in front of Levi’s office door and take a deep breath, running a shaky hand over my ponytail.

  Knocking twice, I push open the door, and the scene in front me stops me cold. My breath hitches and my heart stops. Levi is standing in the middle of his office, his arms wrapped tightly around a woman whose face I cannot see. His gaze meets mine and he stills, his beautiful blue eyes as wide as they can be.