Page 236 of A Taste of Vanilla

Her face goes still.

“I might someday.” I nod. “I don’t know. But I’m not going to hand you forgiveness because you finally told the truth after it took something from you too.”

Her mouth trembles. “I understand.”

“I hope you do.”

“I do.”

I let myself relax. “Don’t go back to him,” I whisper.

Elise breaks into sobs, her hand covering her mouth, her eyes squeezed shut. “I won’t,” she promises.

There’s silence.

Then, “Do you need someone to walk you to your car?” Warren asks.

Elise looks at him, startled by the lack of cruelty. Warren is angry. Anyone with eyes can see it.

“No,” she says. “I took an Uber.”

“Wait inside until it arrives,” I say.

She looks at me.

“I’m not forgiving you, but it’s clear Grant is watching me. I don’t want you standing out on the sidewalk and getting yourself into trouble, too.”

Before Warren has time to talk to me, Dev, Lisa, Marley, and Oliver crowd around.

“She brought proof,” I say, holding up the folder. “Grant helped Barrett write the review. He’s been telling people I’m unstable and impulsive and that’s why we called off the engagement.”

Dev gasps. “I’m going to hire an Etsy witch to curse him.”

Lisa elbows him. “I know a woman.”

The others start arguing.

Warren’s voice is quiet. “What do you want to do?”

Everyone looks at me.

I look at the chalkboard and the pastries.

Grant has been calling me unstable. Impulsive. Too public and too messy for his reputation. His father built the review around his words.

“I don’t know yet,” I confess.

Warren nods. “That’s okay.”

Marley rubs my arm. “We can sit with it.”

“Can I make a pastry called The Receipt?” Dev asks, his hand raised.

“No,” Warren says immediately.

My eyes burn.

Women can hurt each other under the influence of powerful men. Women can make ugly choices because proximity to power can feel an awful lot like safety.