Chapter 6
I made the decision for him.
“I’ll come.”
We ended up back at Honey & Rye.
Of course we did.
The bakery was closed Sundays.
It was quiet.
Lily sat on the prep counter while I made tea.
Roman stayed near the door.
Nobody spoke for a while.
Finally Lily said, “I hate surprises.”
“I gathered,” I said.
“My mom thinks I hate Arizona.”
“Do you?”
“I’ve never been.”
“Then probably not.”
“She thinks I hate Daniel.”
“Your stepdad?”
“He’s fine.”
Roman looked at her.
I poured tea.
“What do you hate?” I asked.
Lily stared into the mug.
“That nobody asked me before everything changed.”
There it was.
Not Arizona.
Not Daniel.
Not even really her mother.
The secret.
The decision made around her.
Roman lowered his gaze.
Lily continued.
“Mom decided. Daniel decided. Roman decided I’d stay with him. Everyone keeps saying I can choose now.”
She laughed softly.
“But all the big choices already happened.”
Roman’s face tightened.
“I should have asked.”
She looked at him.
“You thought I wanted to stay.”
“I did.”
“I did want to stay.”
That surprised him.
“But I wanted you to ask.”
Roman nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
Lily stared at him for a few seconds.
Then looked away.
Nobody rushed the silence.
Eventually she said, “I might go to Arizona for two weeks.”
Roman inhaled.
Then stopped himself from answering too quickly.
“Okay.”
“Not the whole summer.”
“Okay.”
“I want to see it before I decide anything.”
“Okay.”
She looked suspicious.
“That’s all?”
“You’ve made yourself very clear about my habit of answering too much.”
A reluctant smile appeared.
“Good.”
I watched them.
Something shifted in that quiet bakery.
Not fixed.
Shifted.
When Roman finally drove Lily home, he came back.
Alone.
It was nearly eight.
I was cleaning the counter.
The bell rang.
“You forgot something?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“To thank you.”
I kept wiping.
“You already did.”
“Not for today.”
I put the cloth down.
“She trusts you.”
“I don’t know why.”
“I do.”
He stepped closer.
“Because you don’t demand anything from her.”
I thought about that.
“Neither should you.”
“I know.”
“Knowing and doing are different.”
“I know that too.”
He looked tired again.
More than tired.
Uncertain.
It suited him better than certainty.
Then he said, “My aunt was wrong about one thing.”
“Only one?”
His mouth twitched.
“I didn’t keep coming because Lily liked the bakery.”
I frowned.
“You literally told me—”
“I kept bringing Lily because she liked it.”
He paused.
“I came back the second morning because of you.”
The cloth in my hand became suddenly fascinating.
“Why?”
“You threw flour at me.”
“That generally discourages people.”
“It should have.”
“But?”
“You said no.”
I stared at him.
“Many people say no to you.”
“Not honestly.”
That sentence held more than vanity.
I realized that slowly.
People were afraid of offending him.
Wanted things from him.
Needed access.
Needed favors.
Needed approval.
Even family members likely treated him as the person who fixed everything.
“No,” I said. “You wanted someone who didn’t need anything.”
His expression changed.
I had guessed correctly.
“That sounds unhealthy,” I added.
Roman laughed quietly.
“I was trying to be sincere.”
“You’re rusty.”
“Clearly.”
My pulse had become inconveniently noticeable.
I folded the cloth.
“Roman, whatever you’re thinking—”
“I don’t know what I’m thinking.”
That stopped me.
He looked almost irritated by the admission.
“I know what I usually do. I identify the problem. I choose the solution.”
“You attempted that with me.”
“Yes.”
“It went poorly.”
“I still have flour in one of my shoes.”
“That seems impossible after five weeks.”
“Sentimental preservation.”
I laughed.
He smiled.
Then the moment became too quiet.
Too warm.
Too easy to misunderstand.
I stepped away.
“Lily needs stability.”
“I know.”
“And I don’t want to become part of some strange temporary family arrangement because Sophia thinks it’s funny.”
“I know.”
“And I’m not interested in being one of your problems to solve.”
“You aren’t.”
I looked at him.
He held my gaze.
“That’s the problem.”
Before I could ask what that meant, his phone rang.
He checked the screen.
His expression changed instantly.
Not fear.
Concern.
“Elena.”
He answered.
“Elena?”
Silence.
Then Roman looked at me.
His face went very still.
“What do you mean, she left?”
My stomach dropped.
He listened.
“No, don’t drive. Stay where you are. I’ll call her.”
Another pause.
Then softer:
“I know.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?”
Roman was already dialing.
“Elena went back to the house.”
“To talk to Lily?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She discovered Lily’s room empty.”
I stared at him.
“Where is she?”
Roman lifted the phone to his ear.
His gaze met mine.
“I don’t know.”
Then my own phone buzzed on the counter.
A message.
From Lily.
I opened it.
Clare, don’t freak out. I’m safe.
A second message appeared.
I just need somewhere nobody gets to decide for me.
Then a third.
And when I read it, I understood that Lily hadn’t run from her family.
She had gone looking for an answer.
Can you come to the bakery tomorrow at 6? Alone. There’s something about Roman and my mom I think you should know.
I slowly lifted my eyes.
Roman was watching me.
“Is it her?”
I didn’t answer immediately.
Because Lily had asked me to come alone.
May you like
And for the first time since meeting Roman Duca, I had to decide whether trusting him meant telling him everything.
Or respecting the trust of the sixteen-year-old girl who had finally chosen someone for herself.
