I Left Them in Grief Chapter 07

I Left Them in Grief Chapter 07

Brennon reached for me again.

I didn’t think I swung the baking sheet and hit him with it. The dull clang of heavy metal against bone was

satisfying in a way I didn’t expect.

He barely flinched.

“My name is Lisa,” I said flatly. “I own the bakery on the corner. I don’t know anyone named Maren, and I don’t

know you. Stop harassing me.”

I pulled out my phone.

“The nearest precinct is two blocks away. You want to test me?”

Brennon stared. Then, slowly, something broke open in his expression–a bitter, crooked smile.

“If that’s what it takes to make you less angry, I’ll take it.”

His eyes were filling. “I’ve spent two years looking for you. Do you have any idea what that’s been like? Every single night–just thinking about you was enough to-”

“That’s not my problem.”

I said it quietly, the baking sheet still tucked against my chest.

“Whether you’re suffering is a choice you made. We’re strangers. I don’t owe you anything.”

I turned and walked away.

He didn’t follow.

I thought that would be the end of it. I underestimated how far gone he actually was.

The next morning I arrived at the bakery to find the entire block ringed with men in suits.

Brennon was already inside, cleaned up and composed, sitting at one of my tables like he owned the place.

The customers who’d been heading in were hovering uncertainly at the door, not sure whether to leave.

Maeve was in the kitchen, shooting me an apologetic look through the pass–through.

I went to her first, squeezed her shoulder once, then walked over to Brennon.

“What exactly is this supposed to accomplish?” I kept my voice low and even. “You’re running off my

customers.”

He looked up–and had the nerve to smile like I’d just said something encouraging.

He pulled out the chair across from him. An invitation.

“You’re talking to me. That’s a start.”

“Come back with me. The last few years have been–I can’t keep doing this without you.”

“Your place is still yours, nothing’s changed legally, we were never actually divorced. And if seeing Selah bothers you, she’s already gone. You’d never have to deal with her again.”

I looked at him. At the certainty on his face, like he was offering me something I should be grateful for.

“You spent years playing both of us,” I said. “And now you want credit for being willing to drop her. Do you

hear yourself?”

“It wasn’t like that-” He sat up straighter.

“I never had feelings for Selah, not like that. I just didn’t want the kids growing up without a mother figure. And after everything she gave up for us, I felt like I owed her-”

I picked up the glass of water sitting in front of me and threw it in his face.

“Stop.”

He went still, water dripping off his jaw.

“You’re the one who fought your entire family to marry me,” I said.

“Then you turned around and acted like I’d forced Selah out–like I was the villain who stole something from her. You made that choice. You. And somehow I ended up carrying all of it.”

“Don’t be mad-” He shook his head.

“I said stop.”

I looked at him steadily.

“You wanted two women you could play against each other. You liked the dynamic. You liked having us both competing for you–it made you feel like you had power over something.”

“Pouring her wine at dinner, buying her jewelry, letting my children call her Mom–you knew exactly what you were doing. You just liked pretending you didn’t.”

“You’re the kind of man who needs an audience. And I was so tired of being part of the show.”

His mouth opened. Nothing came out.

I pushed back my chair and stood.

His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist–and then, in the same motion, his knees hit the floor.

Brennon Ashford. On his knees. In my bakery.

“I was wrong.” His voice came out wrecked.

About everything. Tell me what you want–ll destroy Selah if that’s what it takes, I walk away from the

company, I’ll sign whatever you want me to sign–just come home.” “Please. I’ll do anything. I mean it.

anything-

He was crying. Actually crying, tears and everything.

I stood over him and felt absolutely nothing except a deep, bone–tired disgust.