Chapter 22: Not Mine to Take Back

The bakery had a new name.

Becky had hung the sign herself on Monday, a hand-painted board that read FARRANT & CO.

The bakery was full at ten in the morning, with a line out the door.

The lemon tart woman ran the register.

Becky stood behind the counter with flour to her elbows when the bell rang, and the whole shop went quiet.

Colby stood on the mat.

He had shaved and put on a clean shirt, and he held a bunch of grocery-store flowers in both hands.

"Becky."

"We're open," she said. "If you want a croissant, there's a line."

"I want to talk to you."

"Then you can talk to me from there."

Somebody at a table lowered a phone.

Colby saw it, and his ears went red, and he did it anyway.

"I was a coward," he said, loud enough for the shop.

"I let you pay for five years of my life. I left you on a floor."

His hands tightened on the flowers.

"I know I don't deserve to ask, but I'm asking."

"Asking what?"

"Take me back."

The lemon tart woman put down her tongs.

Becky wiped her hands slowly on her apron.

"You want me to take you back."

"I'd do anything. I'll go to counseling. I'll get a job. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up."

"Colby."

"Please."

She came around the counter and stood in front of him.

She felt the ring on her finger, and the plain gold band under it.

"Five years ago I would have said yes before you finished," she said.

"I'd have said it for a lot less than flowers."

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