Allegiance - Chiah Wilder Page 0,11

live outside of the lines too. Do something fun every now and then.”

She nodded, her throat still tight with unspoken emotion.

“Thanks, Fe. I needed that reminder.”

“Always. That’s what I’m here for, right?”

“Right.” Her attention went back to the clock and she bit off a curse. “I have to get going. Wish me luck on landing the contract with this customer. Text me as soon as you figure out the dates for your visit.”

“You’ll know every detail as I make them.”

Lena wrapped up the video chat. After her meeting with the customer, she had the dinner rush to help with. The hustle and bustle was a good distraction from the grief that was always present in her life.

Maybe Tank would’ve been the perfect crutch in her broken life. Until he shattered what’s left of my heart. And she had no doubt he would. A night rolling around in the sheets with him couldn’t fix the cracks in her heart, despite what Felicia thought.

Lena pulled out a tube of lipstick and swiped the peachy color across her lips, raked her fingers through her long hair, then stood up and walked out of the office to meet Mrs. Wright.

The next two weeks were a blur of recipes, food tastings, catered parties, serving customers at the bistro, and selling so many croissants, Lena was actually dreaming about them.

Small slices of time spent on her balcony, watching the ocean while sipping a glass of lemonade or white wine—depending on the time of day—were her only reprieves from work. During those precious, quiet moments, Tank held a starring role in her thoughts. She’d been amazed that she hadn’t bumped into him, seeing as the town wasn’t that big. When she’d lived in San Francisco, she’d bump into people from high school quite often, so she’d thought for sure they would’ve run into each other over the past two weeks at some point.

When she wasn’t thinking about Tank’s kiss, Felicia’s advice about living in the moment, not letting life pass her by, festered in her brain. For the first time in two years since starting her business, she thought about her direction in life, seriously considering if she had allowed opportunities to slip away because of her hectic work schedule. There was being dedicated, and then there was ignoring mental and physical growth.

Lena made sure she took some dedicated time to think about what she wanted and needed. Her therapist would’ve been thrilled at the inner self-work she’d put into the question.

At the end of her contemplation, she realized that just because she had an article in the L.A. Times food section, a buzzing business, and a condo entirely in her name, that wasn’t enough. She was lonely. All of her friends lived in San Francisco, and since she’d moved to Santa Teresita, she hadn’t made any close ones. Of course, she had friends and colleagues, but it wasn’t the same. Yes, lonely. She’d replaced social interaction with work.

Dr. Schroeder, her therapist, told her the same thing Fe did: she didn’t want to get close to anyone new for fear she’d lose them. Is that screwed up or what?

The moonlight shifted across the storefront, and Lena looked up from wiping the top of the display case and out onto the quaint avenue that eclipsed over eighty percent of her memories over the past few years. The smell of fresh bread and yeast wafted through the bistro. When she inhaled, she sneezed, squeezing the wet rag in her hand.

As usual, everyone else had already left for the night, and she still had several more hours of work ahead of her. Though Adalyn, Melanie, and Sarah always offered to help, Lena liked to close up alone and really take stock of what had been done that day.

While she looked out at the street, a sudden urge to talk with Tank seized her. As crazy as it sounded, she missed him. So what are you going to do about it? He hasn’t tried to find your number. It would’ve been easy for him to find out the name of her catering company. All he had to do was call the host and ask for it. No, she was just being silly. It was summer, the night warm and breezy, with the scent of jasmine and evening primrose flowing through the air.

But you told him you weren’t interested. Damn that tiny voice that kept niggling at the back of her mind. He probably doesn’t even think about me. He’s got Quinn