Rose is waiting for me in the bakery when I arrive in the morning. I haven’t seen her since the party and I know that I’m about to get the third degree. But I suppose that’s to be expected when you run out of your sister’s engagement party sobbing. At least I get to eat some cake while I’m being interrogated.

Ever since Thomas Logan—Rose’s fiancé—helped save my father’s bakery and moved it to a better location in town, it’s been a little bit of a sensation. He’s a really great baker, and with the success that he’s had, he’s not only well on his way to paying off his loan, but he’s been able to hire some very talented pastry chefs. One is a wedding cake maker that’s about to serve us samples for Rose’s wedding.

Rose is sitting in a sun-drenched corner of the bakery, practically glowing. She’s in a dress that’s a little too summery for this time of year, but she’s glowing. She never used to wear dresses, her uniform being pants and whatever shirt she pulled on. Nothing special. Now she’s blossomed into a bit of a girly-girl. It’s nice to see her have the space to figure out who she really is, now that she’s not worrying about my father and me. I’m glad that the game of twenty questions yesterday didn’t continue because there are plenty of embarrassing mistakes I’ve made in the last ten years that I don’t want Sam knowing about.

Looking up, Rose saves me from that line of thought. “Hi!” she jumps up and wraps me in a hug.

“Hey.”

“Are you ready to try some cake?” Her voice is way too bubbly, and I can already tell she’s prepping to grill me.

I smile. “If you’re ready to drop the act.”

“Fine,” she rolls her eyes. “But I am excited about the cake. Should we at least let June know we’re here before we start?”

She doesn’t wait for me to answer, marching straight back into the kitchen. The benefit of being the owner’s daughter. I settle myself at her table and try to prep mentally for everything that I have to tell her.

Rose comes back in, practically bouncing, and hands me a spoon covered in frosting that’s matching the one she’s already eating. “Don’t give me a speech about sugar,” she says. “We’re tasting my wedding cake. I can have as much sugar as I want.”

That makes me laugh. “Okay, I won’t warn you that sugar is going to kill you today.”

“But what a way to go,” she says. “So spill.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And you’re a rotten liar. Why did you leave the party crying? Did you see Sam?”

I can’t help but laugh, even though it’s not that funny. “You could say that.” Rose stares at me. She’s good at drawing out what she wants using silence. And this time is no exception. I can’t take the pressure of her just staring, waiting. “Being back in that house was really overwhelming, and after the toast—which was where I first spotted him—I needed to be alone for a minute. So I went upstairs to the bathroom.”

“I wondered where you’d gone,” Rose says.

June comes out from the back of the bakery with a plate and five different slices of cake. Setting it down between us, she smiles. “There’s more where that came from if you need more choices.”

“Thanks, June.” Rose smiles at her. And then she nods at me. “Keep going.”

“I was in the bathroom for a few minutes, but I just didn’t want to go back downstairs. I don’t even remember getting there, but I got to Sam’s room…and he found me there.”

Rose’s face goes a little pale. “And you guys fought?”

“We did,” I say, “but first…we kind of had sex.”

“WHAT?”

Everyone in the bakery is looking at us now. “Rose,” I say. “Shh.”

“Umm…I will NOT. You had sex with Sam?” She stage whispers the last bit to me. “Why?”

I shake my head. “I honestly don’t know. I was just so lost in the past, in that room, and he was there, and the way he was looking at me…but it doesn’t matter.”

“Why doesn’t it matter?”

“Because he still won’t tell me why. When I—” I clear my throat, “came to my senses, I asked him again, and it was the same. He got all quiet and wouldn’t say anything about what happened that night. And I couldn’t handle it. So I left.”

Rose takes her fork and cuts into a piece of cake that looks like some sort of chocolate. “I’m sorry,” she says. “Are you okay?”

“I actually am,” I say. “He came into the office with Zeus, and we called a truce. Just trying to exist without that night spoiling everything. We can’t have a screaming match every time we see each other. Especially with the wedding.”

“Well,” Rose makes a face and cuts into another piece of cake, “I’ll do my best not to put you two together.”

I take a bite of a red velvet that practically melts and my mouth. “Oh my God you need to try that one,” I say. “And don’t worry too much. None of this is your fault, and I’m a big girl. It’s hard enough to plan a wedding without worrying about my drama.”

She takes a bite and groans. “Oh my God that’s good. And you’re right, but I’m not going to have you walk down the aisle together or anything.”

I laugh, and take a bite of what turns out to be lemon. It’s a good cake, but not nearly as good as the red velvet.

“So you guys have a truce?”

“Until he finally decides to tell me why he did what he did, yeah. It’s either that or the screaming matches.”

“I vote truce,” she says.

We try all five slices of cake, and nothing compares to that red velvet. “I’m going to go get the next flight,” Rose says.

“The next flight?”

“Lots of cake to try, sister.”

Oh God, I’m going to be in a sugar coma by the end of this. My phone chimes with a text message, and I fish it out of my purse. It’s not a familiar number. But the message makes me go still. It’s an address, and one simple sentence:

Dinner? Truce is still in effect.

It’s Sam. Sam is asking me to dinner. I’m guessing that address is his house on the edge of town.

How did you get my number?

I have my ways.

Which probably means that either Thomas or Rose gave it to him.

What would this dinner entail?

There’s a pause, and then the little typing bubble pops up again.

Normal dinner things. Food. Conversation. My sparkling wit.

But we’re still in the truce.

A longer pause this time.

Absolutely.

This is probably not a good idea. But it could be. It’s entirely possible that the more time I spend with Sam, the less I’ll care about what happened, whether or not he actually tells me about it. I mean, it’s a long shot. But here I am, telling my sister that she doesn’t have to keep me away from him so that I don’t kill him. I know that’s on me. Anything I can do to keep myself from that is a good idea.

What time?

7:30?

I’ll see you there.

I put my phone away as Rose comes back with another set of cake. I may not even be able to eat dinner with this much cake in my system. I guess I’ll find out. My phone buzzes one more time and I can’t resist looking at it.

Looking forward to it.