What was I going to do when the lease was due and I was unable to pay?
I'd left my home, my old job, and my friends behind. I couldn't imagine slinking back now in failure, my tail between my legs.
Maybe if I did grovel enough, my old boss would let me back on the team.
I bit my lip, eyes skirting the flickering lights in the corner of the bakery, illuminating the cherry cheeked children on posters holding up cakes and huge slices of various fruit filled pies.
My parents had loved those cute little posters. They were a little creepy to me. The boy stuffing cake in his mouth had eyes just a bit too bulging. Though I didn’t know much about sweets, I was certain pastries weren’t supposed to make anyone that excited.
Were my mother and father disappointed in me right now? If I had made more of an effort while they were still here, we wouldn't be knee deep in this mess.
I would know how to make cookies and danishes, I would know how to be friendly with the guests, I would know how to do a damn business budget.
But, no. I knew nothing at all about running this business, and so in my stubbornness to see it through, I had ruined it all.
Against my own will, a sniffle rippled through me, hotness of welling tears beginning to swell in the corners of my eyes.
I blinked viciously, struggling to keep the oncoming fit of hysteria away. That would do no good for anyone.
I hadn't cried when I moved away from home. I hadn't cried when I got that midnight, dreadful phone call, and I hadn’t cried when I realized the bakery was deep, deep in the red.
Now though, now it seemed as if all of my loss was culminating into one giant ball of angst inside of me, thrashing against my ribs with each painful beat of my heart.
I crumbled forward, hands catching my face as a rickety sob shook all the way from my toes to my shoulders.
Sob after wild sob rolled through me, salty tears coursing down my cheeks and snot oozing out of my nose.
I was certifiably disgusting by the time the little bell over the entrance door jingled merrily to announce the presence of a guest.
Figures, of course, that the only time I got a client this week would be during a massive breakdown.
Too deep in my melancholy to even notice, I didn't even bother to look up.
After all, it wasn't like one single guest could change the entire fate of this tiny little bakery, right?
It was only when a large, startlingly warm hand pressed against my shoulder that I leapt up with an alarmed gasp, blinking hard in order to see the face of the person through the sheer sheet of tears that blocked my eyes.
With a swipe of my hand over my eyes, I blinked again, suddenly thrown into a wide ocean of deep, sparkling blue.
"Excuse me," the gorgeous man muttered, painfully patting my shoulder again as though he didn’t want to touch the giant, sopping snot monster before him, "I was hoping to get a dozen of the blue frosted sugar cookies, please."
His lips, pleasantly pink against his tan face, pursed into a tight line, his eyes shifting around the unpleasant dingy darkness of the shop.
Only half the lights worked anymore, and there were no cakes on display.
I could see the regret in his eyes immediately as his gaze shifted towards the door once more.
More tears burst suddenly into my own eyes like dismal, melancholy fireworks as I sank back down into the chair, blubbering like a madwoman.
The man's shoulders stiffened as he watched me, half condescending and half pitying.
With a deep and begrudging sigh he knelt down beside me, taking my damp hand into his own bravely.
"Come now." He murmured, and only then did I hear the soft British lilt of his deep voice, "Tell me what's going on."
"It's nothing." I warbled, half choking on my tears.
Oh yes, that was believable.
I was only sobbing hysterically in the middle of my shop because nothing was wrong. Everything was quite peachy, in fact.
I wasn't a massive disappointment to my parents or myself. I wasn't ruining everything my mother and father had dedicated their lives to.
Oh no, nothing was wrong at all, good sir.
Struggling to heave in a breath and calm my shaking shoulders, I attempted to look squarely into those beautiful blue eyes that stole my breath away.
Strangely enough, gazing into his calm face did make me feel as though everything was going to be alight. Maybe it was because of the tropical azure of his eyes reminded me of a Caribbean cruise or something.
"It's nothing." I managed to whisper once more.
"I suppose I'm not getting those cookies, though." the man mused, and when I began sniffling again he struggled to back wheel, eyes going uncharacteristically wide, "Oh no, darling," He said, squeezing my hand again, "I was making a joke."
I could tell that jokes were not something this man made frequently, however.