Monday morning brought with it a steady stream of customers—and nerves Lena couldn't quite shake. The soft opening had been a quiet success, but now came the hard part: consistency, reputation, building something lasting.
She had just wiped down the counter when the bell over the door rang, and in walked a face she hadn't seen in years.
"Lena Hart," the woman said with a voice that carried a blend of curiosity and coolness. "Back in town, just like that."
Lena blinked. "Jessica Lane?"
Jessica smiled, all glossed lips and perfectly styled waves. "In the flesh."
They'd gone to high school together, once danced around the edges of friendship, but never quite clicked. Jessica had been one of the popular girls—charming, confident, and more than a little competitive.
"I heard about your dad," Jessica said, walking closer. "I'm sorry. He was a sweet man."
"Thanks," Lena said, cautious.
Jessica's eyes roamed the bakery. "You've done a nice job. Not quite like your dad's old charm, but you've given it a fresh touch."
"Trying my best."
Jessica leaned over the counter. "So… is it true?"
Lena frowned. "Is what true?"
"That Walker's Harper been spending his mornings here?"
Lena's fingers froze over the register. "Why does that matter?"
Jessica gave a light laugh. "Oh, no reason. Just curious. You know how people talk in a town like this. It's just interesting, considering…"
"Considering what?" Lena asked, her voice cool.
Jessica shrugged. "Well, you always had a thing for him back in the day. He never noticed you then, but now?" She raised a brow. "Well, a girl wonders what's changed."
Lena didn't flinch. She'd built too many walls to let Jessica get under her skin.
"Maybe nothing's changed," she said simply. "Maybe we're just old friends catching up."
Jessica tilted her head. "Sure. Just… don't get too comfortable. Walker's not exactly the staying kind."
With that parting shot, she flashed a smile and turned on her heels, heels clicking against the tile as she left.
Lena exhaled slowly.
She'd almost forgotten what it was like to be underestimated.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of orders and routine, but Jessica's words lingered like the bitter aftertaste of burnt espresso. It wasn't about jealousy. Not really. It was about doubt. That creeping, uninvited whisper in her mind that asked:
What if she was right?
At noon, Walker texted.
Walker: How's the Monday crowd treating you?
Lena: Better than expected.
Walker: Save me a scone?
She stared at the message a moment too long.
Lena: Blueberry or lemon?
Walker: Surprise me.
She tucked her phone away, heart thudding.
Walker had been kind. Steady. More present than she remembered anyone being. But was that enough to trust him again? Or herself?
The oven timer dinged, and Lena reached for the next tray of pastries, her thoughts cloudy with memories and warnings.
Jessica's voice echoed in her mind like a warning bell.
But even as doubt crept in, Lena knew one thing for certain: she wasn't the same girl who had loved Walker in silence a decade ago.
And this time, if she fell, she'd do it with her eyes wide open.