Cupcakes and Christmas - R.J. Scott Page 0,36

power to hurt me again, and my fears were beginning to outweigh the excitement of meeting Justin. “If she took photos, then I’ll delete them.”

“I won’t let you use me just to get ratings for your channels.”

He winced, and said, “I’m not… I might have thought, but I wouldn’t—”

“Good.”

“What about coffee—”

“I’ll see you at dinner,” I interrupted then turned on my heel and took the remaining ten steps two at a time, only relaxing when my room door shut behind me.

My cell vibrated, and I answered it without looking, thinking it was Adam picking up on my anger and stress, but the voice on the other end wasn’t my twin, but someone I hoped not to talk to again for a very long time.

Marc.

“I didn’t think you’d pick up,” he said immediately.

“I thought you were Adam.”

“Oh.”

There was enough of a pause for my irritation levels to rise. “What do you want, Marc?”

“I just wondered if you’d rethought us—”

“I signed the damn papers, so there’s no need to call me.”

“That wasn’t—”

“I can’t wait for us to be done.” I snapped cruelly and ended the call, feeling the immediate guilt at being rude that wasn’t part of my psyche. My former husband had lied to me, stole from me and then to add insult to injury, he’d slept around behind my back. I had every right to be angry with him, but there was that guilt, and I fired off a text. I signed them. Sorry.

What is it with me that I can’t even be rude to an asshole who ruined my damn life?

I scrolled to the list of people whom I trusted. Five. That was all that was left. My mom, dad, and my three siblings. I’d fired the hopelessly useless management team that Marc had hired to manage 3B. Then the two bakers that had worked with me, both of whom it turned out had slept with Marc, not that I imagine much sleeping had been done. Next I dismissed my idiot of a bookkeeper, and lastly, I’d changed banks. I did my own bookkeeping. I managed 3B and as she was my sister, I trusted Lacey to manage the coffee shop attached to 3B. There was no way in hell I would let anyone else in.

I had a circle of trust, and there was only a handful of people inside it. And right now, there was only one person I wanted to talk to. I hoped to hell Adam was available, or that he had felt my stress through the twin connection because I needed to tell him about things.

About what exactly? About my stupid head and its inability to form trusting relationships? Or the fact that months of therapy hadn’t made me feel any less stupid about what I’d allowed to happen. Anyway, even if I did tell him, what could he do all the way from Corning? Breathe. Just breathe.

After a few moments, I sent a message to the family group.

“Good first day, blind bake rescued from disaster, more later.”

Just as usual, the phone rang immediately, and I connected the call as soon as I saw Adam’s name.

“Hey, little brother,” he said, and I could hear he was in the car. He was only older by five minutes, but just like every set of twins I’ve met, the oldest always made it clear they had been first. I had a standard reply about him reaching thirty before me, but nothing came out of my mouth apart from a strangled hi. After a pause he sighed. “Okay, tell me everything.”

“Everything? The bake was—”

“No, tell me the stuff you’re not putting in the family chat. I’ve been feeling wired all day, so you’re clearly stressing.”

I didn’t even attempt to lie. “It’s hard being back. I messed up a couple of times. I can’t stop thinking that Marc will be out there watching this when it’s aired and laughing at me fucking up, and I asked Justin for a coffee, and then he was laughing at me I think, and I don’t know who to trust. Then Marc just phoned, and I told him that I couldn’t wait for us to be over, and I was cruel, and I’m fucked up.” I said all that in one breath. I sat on the edge of my bed, realizing too late that it was in front of the closet mirror, and I got an eyeful of me in a padded coat, my head appearing tiny as it poked out of the extra