“Mum, I’m not stupid. I know what is out there; just because I choose to ignore it and only focus on the positive and the good in the world, it doesn’t make it your fault. Too many people focus on the negative. They leave negative reviews but never positive. They read bad press but never the good. They comment on negative statuses on Facebook, but never praise the positive. I choose to see the positive, Mum. Me. That has nothing to do with our upbringing.”

  “But I—”

  “If you truly believe that then you believe he hurt me because I didn’t have the experience, which in turn means I deserved it,” I rush out, needing her to really hear me. This isn’t her fault either.

  She pales, a sob hitching from her throat. “No. I’ve never once thought that. Oh God.”

  I reach for her hand, squeezing it. “I know that, Mum, and I know what you were trying to say to me.”

  She cups my face, wiping a tear that slides down my cheek with her thumb. “I’m sorry. This happened to you, not me. I just hate that you went through it.”

  “I know you do,” I whisper. I don’t like hearing the pain in her voice. “There are some other things I need to talk to you about, and I’d like it if you kept some of it between us.”

  Her brows pull together. “Please tell me he hasn’t contacted you.”

  “No,” I rush out, assuring her. “Can you remember the flowers I received that night?”

  Her lips pinch together. “The ones me and your father think Scott sent himself?”

  I nod. “I’ve received more, along with a creepy note, and looking back, I think the first one was the same. I just read it wrong.”

  “Charlotte, why didn’t you say anything before?” she demands, unable to remain calm. “What did it say? Are you okay? Did they threaten you?”

  I hold my hands up. “No, they didn’t threaten me. I don’t think,” I explain. “I’m telling you now. I don’t know who’s sending them or why but Madison is helping me locate the person who purchased them. And please, stop worrying. It’s nothing we can’t handle.”

  “Honey, you need to take this to the police. What if he’s still around? What if it’s someone who wants to hurt you?”

  A chill runs down my spine. “Mum.”

  She sinks back into her chair. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Madison doesn’t believe it’s him. She doesn’t think they are from any male.”

  “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “I know. We can’t make sense of it either.”

  “You will tell me if anything happens again, won’t you? I know you’re a grown woman, but please, give your mother peace of mind. I hate that this might guilt trip you, but I don’t sleep much during the night. I can’t. I’m petrified you’ll be hurt again.”

  I pull her in for a hug because she’s seriously the best mum in the world. “I love you and I promise I’ll tell you. This was something I couldn’t explain over the phone.”

  “Is there anything else?”

  I bite my lip. “Don’t go crazy but I think we might have a lead on Scott.” I run over everything the girls said to me and our plan. By the time I’m finished, Mum is pale, concern written all over her face.

  “I don’t like this. I know I can’t force you, but I think you should go to the police with this information. Please.”

  “I’m not convinced it’s the same person they are talking about. If it is, I’ll go to the police. Pinkie promise.”

  “I know you said I need to keep this between us, but your father needs to know about this. Charlotte, you can’t be lax with your safety.”

  There’s nothing worse than being scolded by your mother. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know there was anything to tell until today, otherwise I would have said something sooner.”

  She sighs, running her fingers through her thick red hair. “I will be telling your father and you can’t expect him to keep it quiet.”

  “That wasn’t the part I wanted you to keep to yourself,” I tell her, fiddling with the rip in my jeans.

  She tilts my chin up. “What did you want to tell me?”

  This is harder than I thought it was going to be. I scrape the chair back, getting up. “Just give me a minute.”

  She gulps. “Oh God.”

  I want to share what happened. I want her to know. But to put it into words without the worry of her judging me before she knows the full story… yeah, I don’t know how to do that.

  I begin to pace. “I have something important to share, something that means a lot to me, and I want you to remain unbiased,” I ramble.

  “Charlotte, I say this with respect, but you’re scaring me, so get talking.”

  I stop at the counter, facing her. “I don’t want anyone else to know. I can’t have people twisting or cheapening what I’m about to tell you. It wasn’t like that. I swear to you, it wasn’t like that.”

  “Honey, calm down.”

  “I had sex with Drew the giant and I liked it!” I groan, slapping my forehead. “That came out so wrong.”

  Her silence has my heart racing. She continues to watch me, her lips parted.

  “I promise I’m not a slut. It just happened. I wanted it to happen and it was the best night of my life,” I assure her. “It was how it was always meant to be.”

  Silence.

  I begin to pace once again, continuing to ramble. “It’s not that I want to keep it a secret, I just don’t want people judging me. What I said earlier? I meant every word. I don’t want people to cheapen what happened, or make Drew think he was in the wrong. He wasn’t. He understands more than most what it meant to me.”

  Silence.

  “And who knew other positions could be so exciting.”

  “Stop!” Mum bursts out, her cheeks flaming scarlet. “Charlotte, I—”

  “It wasn’t a mistake, Mum. It wasn’t anything more than it was, but I think something inside of me was seeking that touch, that connection.”

  “And he didn’t hurt you?”

  I smile, taking the seat next to her. “No, Mum. He was a gentleman. I know this was something I never wanted to do. I wanted a life partner, a family. But it really meant a lot to me.”

  “Sweetie.”

  “He erased it, Mum,” I choke out. “He opened my eyes to everything you had been telling me. What Scott did was wrong. It wasn’t that he misheard me, or he was carried away. It wasn’t a case of terrible sex. He knew. He knew the moment I first said no that he should stop and he didn’t. Drew…” I sigh, closing my eyes. “He couldn’t have made it more special. We experienced something beautiful and I will not be ashamed of that.”

  “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not surprised. I am. But I’m also going to trust that you know what you want.”

  “It’s what I wanted.”

  A smile spreads across her face. “Then when are you next seeing him?”

  I can tell she means romantically and not platonically. “I’m not sure it was more than it was.”

  Her lips tighten. “What did he say?”

  I reach for a cupcake and tear it in half. “I didn’t ask.”

  “You didn’t ask?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m scared it didn’t mean the same for him.”

  Her expression softens. “It’s you, how could it not.”

  “I’m not going to rush or force anything anymore. I’m going to let things happen naturally.”

  “The best thing to ever happen to me was your father. You’ll get that, Charlie. I promise.”

  I shove the cupcake into my mouth, utterly surprised by the taste exploding on my tongue. I begin to choke, and Mum’s eyes widen.

  “Another mistake?”

  I finish chewing and hold up the other half. “Try it.”

  “I had a big dinner. I’m good.”

  I roll my eyes and shove the cupcake into her mouth. “Good?”

  Her eyes widen, her lips straightening as a pleasantly surprised expression washes over her face. “Oh my gosh,” she grumbles around the mouthful of food. “This is so good.”

  I take another in case it’s a fluke, and I’m happy to find it’s just as good as the first. “So good,” I moan.

  “Did you make these?”

  I nod. “I did.”

  “What recipe did you use? I’ll have to make these for your father.”

  My lips turn down. “I don’t remember.”

  “You don’t remember?”

  I shake my head. “No. I was, um, a little inside my head.”

  She grins, taking another cupcake. “You were thinking about Drew?”

  Busted.

  I nod. “Take some with you. I’ll figure it out again.”

  Mum hesitates. “Just one. We can snack on the rest,” she tells me, making me giggle. Her eyes scan the other counter. “Are those scones?”

  “Yep,” I answer absently before diving off my chair, wondering if they too are just as good.

  And boy are they.

  *** *** ***

  Dropping down on my bed, I reach for the cat brush I left on the side last night and pull Katnip onto my lap. I haven’t even pulled the brush through her thick fur before she starts moaning like a banshee. It’s cute. It’s a mix between a banshee and a grumpy old lady.

  “You are so adorable,” I coo.

  Her nails claw into my chest as she tries to escape. I grimace at the sting, feeling my skin tear under my pyjama top. I comb through her hair, ignoring her cries to be free and focus on the new drama series I’ve got playing on Netflix.

  My phone beeps, alerting me of a text message, and I cease brushing Katnip to look at the screen. I drop her to the bed when I see Drew’s name.

  My stomach rolls over with a nervous flutter.

  Drew: So… Alison messaged me. The hotel got back to them with the footage of the room and she knows it was us.

  I bite my lip, my heart racing.

  Charlotte: Oh no. Has she told your mum? I will take FULL responsibility.

  I chew on my thumbnail as I wait for him to reply. Why, oh why, did I have to drink at the engagement party. I’m a different person with alcohol coursing through my system. And I’m never the same person the day after.

  Drew: I told her I’d say the worst thing you can say at a wedding while they are in the middle of their vows.

  I let out a surprised giggle.

  Charlotte: What is the worst thing you can say at a wedding?

  Drew: She didn’t even ask because she probably imagined the worst. I’d say the worst is: “I object.”

  Charlotte: Coming from her brother, that would be bad.

  Drew: What about you? What would be the worst thing said to you at your wedding?

  Charlotte: If someone gives my uncle Max a mic to give a speech.

  Drew: What would he say?

  Charlotte: What wouldn’t he say should be the question. He’s kind of, um… eccentric.

  Drew: I’ve met your uncle. That is one way to describe him.

  Drew: How is your head today?

  I shift, getting more comfortable on the bed. I can’t believe he’s messaging me outside of our little deal and him teaching me self-defence.

  I don’t want to get my hopes up, but well… my hopes are up. Does it mean something? I’m not sure.

  Charlotte: My head’s fantastic. Good even. The best.

  There’s a huge grin on my face, even if I’m not entirely sure why he’s asking about my head.

  Was there something wrong with my head the last time we saw each other?

  Drew: No lingering hangover?

  Charlotte: Oh, hangover… no, I was good once we got coffee. What about you?

  Drew: I never get hangovers.

  Charlotte: How has your sister taken what we did to your mum?

  Drew: She finds it funny. She just messaged me. She said she’s told Mum they lost the footage and now Mum thinks it’s some conspiracy.

  I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing. I feel awful we put his mum through that.

  Charlotte: I’ll send her flowers as an apology. She won’t even know they are from me.

  Drew: She deserves to be shaken up once in a while, and no one was actually hurt. She was being dramatic.

  Charlotte: I hope so.

  When he doesn’t reply after a minute or so, I panic about what to say. I’m not ready to end the conversation.

  I grab a bag of sweets out of my drawer, and reach for one. The sour tang of Haribo explodes on my tongue.

  Charlotte: Are you still okay for Thursday?

  I chew my lip as the three dots appear on the right side of the message, and my stomach flutters.

  Drew: Can’t wait.

  Charlotte: Me either.

  Drew: See you then, gorgeous.

  Gorgeous.

  He called me gorgeous.

  I flop back against my pillow, letting out a giggle. From years of advice, I know not to message him back. Hayden would kill me if she found out I did.

  Instead, I read over the messages again, unable to keep the smile off my face.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHARLOTTE

  Emily: We are on our way.

  Charlotte: See you soon.

  Emily: You better not be stressing. It’s all going to be okay.

  It really isn’t. Marlene hadn’t shown up for work this morning and she isn’t answering her phone. She forgot her work hours once before but she never ignored my phone calls on those days.

  I called Rita to come in and fill in for us, but I can’t get rid of the sinking feeling in my stomach that something is wrong.

  We had a lot of activity in here yesterday. First a birthday party and then my family showed up, demanding to try my cupcakes. But I had already shared them with some of the guests before they arrived.

  They got into it with Marlene when she wouldn’t stay to cover for me so I could go home and bake more.

  Maybe they scared her off and that’s why she isn’t here. It wouldn’t be the first member of staff to leave because of them.

  I feel awful because thinking back, that was the first time one of them ever demanded me to bake for them. Usually they are giving me reasons not to bother. They never want to trouble me. And the one time they did, I had to work. But I couldn’t just close up to bake them treats, as much as I’d have liked to. I hate that I hurt their feelings by saying no.

  They sort of took that out on Marlene as she was leaving to head home. My uncle Max even clung to her ankle like an octopus, begging her not to let an old man starve. The members of the public inside the library started to plead on his behalf and she got so mad she went to kick him. She somehow missed and got the buckle on her boot caught on the desk and it tore off, ruining her favourite boots.

  Still, that couldn’t be reason enough not to come into work.

  Was it?

  She did leave screaming they were all psychos and needed to be committed but I thought she was joking because everyone knew Uncle Max was banned from those places. It was public knowledge.

  I click on Marlene’s contact once again. I tap my foot restlessly on the floor as I listen to it ring and ring, just like it has done since I first started calling this morning.

  “Hello?”

  I jump, pulling the phone back a little to make sure I dialled the right number. “Um, is Marlene there?”

  “She’s in the hospital,” the girl replies. “Can you believe that?”

  “Oh my God, what on earth for? Is she okay?”

  “She was poisoned.”

  “Poisoned?”

  “Yeah, by a cupcake.”

  The blood drains from my face as I stagger backwards. I grip the back of the chair and turn it to face me before my knees threaten to buckle. My arse hits the soft cushion and I grip the phone tighter in my hand.

  “Cupcake?” I whisper before bursting into tears.

  Did I do this?

  Was this my cupcake?

  Oh my God, those poor kids ate my cupcakes.

  My breath hitches as I fight to stay coherent.

  “Hey, don’t cry. But yeah, silly cow said she took a box of cupcakes from the library. Apparently, they were for her stuck-up boss. They were tested early this morning and it was them.”

  “Me, I’m her stuck-up boss,” I hiccup, pointing to my chest. “That’s me. Did she say where she got the cupcakes? Did they have a buttercream frosting?”

  “Look, lady, I have no clue what cupcakes they were but… Hold on,” I hear rumbling, like the phone speaker is being wiped with a cloth. “It’s your stuck-up boss. Don’t sound stuck up to me, love. She’s crying like a new-born here.”

  “What does she want?”

  “Wants to know what frosting was on it and where you got them from.”

  “Really? I nearly die and that’s all she has to say?”

  “That’s not all I have to say,” I call out, hoping they can hear me. I wipe my nose, waiting patiently for her to reply.

  “Just answer so I can get back to scrolling through Facebook.”

  “I don’t know. I threw the note in the bin after they were delivered.”

  More rustling and seconds later, the line clears. “I heard everything.”

  “Well shit.”

  “I’m really not stuck up,” I tell her.

  “Hey, it’s between you two.”

  “So, they weren’t my cupcakes?”

  “Luv, she said they were delivered. Did you deliver cupcakes?”

  My breath hitches. “No. I didn’t have any delivered.”

  “Then no, they aren’t your cupcakes, but the fact you’re worried they are… maybe you shouldn’t bake anymore.”

  Maybe.

  “Can you tell her that I wish her a speedy recovery and that I can’t wait to see her back at work.”

  She repeats the message and I hear Marlene yell, “Not unless you tell your family to stay the fuck away from me, the crazy morons.”

  I bite my bottom lip, grimacing. “Um, I can hear she’s upset. I’ll let you see to her. Lovely speaking with you. Bye.”

  Ending the call, I clutch the phone to my chest. Poisoning. How did this happen? And what note?

  Heading out of my office, I make my way over to her desk and reach for the bin. Empty.