Don't Leave Me (My Secret Boyfriend Book 3) by S. Doyle

Author:S. Doyle [Doyle, S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-05-19T23:00:00+00:00

Three days later

Ashleigh

I was in the back of the bakery, icing the cake I’d made for a custom order. A regular was hosting a birthday party for his wife and asked if I would do the cake.

My choice. Anything I wanted to bake. So I’d gone a little crazy with a new red velvet recipe I’d found online. For so long, I’d stuck to Helga’s play book because that’s what I knew. It was only recently, I started to have the confidence in my own skills to branch out.

I smiled at the results of my effort. “Not bad,” I said to myself.

I heard the bell over the door chime, and listened as Candy greeted the customer.

“You’re back,” she said. “Looks like we’ve got a new regular.”

I didn’t hear the customer’s response, but Candy replied, “Yeah, sure, she’s just in the kitchen.”

The door to my work area swung open and Candy popped her head inside. “Hey, Marie, hot guy from a couple of weeks ago is back and wants to chat with the baker.”

Hot guy from a couple of weeks ago?

A tingle of anticipation rippled through me, and I fought against it. He wasn’t coming. I’d all but told him I didn’t want him in my life. He had to hate me for everything I’d done. There was no reason for him to come.

Then why did I have the weird hope he would behave the way he’d always behaved when it came to me, and do his own thing, despite what I’d said?

This is why I hadn’t left. Why I couldn’t make myself run away again.

I brushed off my apron, although it was fairly clean, and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. I’d recently changed the color back to blond. It made me feel more like myself when I looked in the mirror.

I swung open the door, and there he was. Candy wasn’t wrong. He was a hot guy. My son was going to grow up to look just like him.

“Hi,” he said gruffly. “Can we talk for a minute?”

“Wait,” Candy said, looking between us. “Do you two already know each other?”

“We knew each other once upon a time,” I told her. “Can you handle the store for me?”

“Yes,” she piped up quickly. “No problem.”

I followed Marc outside. It was another beautiful, balmy, fall Florida day. Without discussing it, we wandered across the street to the park. The place of our reunion. The place where he’d met his son for the first time.

I hadn’t even let him hold him. I hadn’t asked him if he wanted to.

By default, we sat on the same park bench. There were a hundred things I wanted to ask him. But I didn’t know how to start. Maybe the first one was the most obvious.

“You changed your hair back,” he said finally, to break the silence.

“I wanted to look like me again,” I replied. Then I cut to the chase. “Why are you here?”

“Do you want me to go?” he asked, his hands clasped together, his elbows on his knees.

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