Page 31 of My Ex’s Dad

“I really thought that we’d be looking at a better number after the Valentine’s Day rush,” Jenni says as she leans against the doorframe. This “office” at the bakery feels more like a glorified closet space but it hardly matters how big the supposedly administrative room is. All I need is a laptop to prop on a narrow desk. Now that I’ve finally convinced my parents to go all digital, there’s no point in keeping files and bulky containers of paperwork. Any spare space in here is for storage—like the stack of crates that hold ingredients and paper liners among other non-perishables.

I let out a rough exhale. “Me too,” I agree. As soon as the words slip out, though, I frown. “Actually, no.”

I would have liked the bakery to be turning more of a profit, especially with the Valentine’s Day season over the last few weeks. Sales did tick up with the heart-shaped cookies and cupcakes, then the new breads that Jenni and I planned. But that bump hasn’t been high enough to undo all the lows.

Since the holidays, and into the new year, it’s been a struggle to keep sales up. And that’s without even trying my delivery idea.

“I mean, business looked good,” Jenni says with a worried expression. It’s a sincere sentiment. Since I moved in with her after I broke up with Roman, I get to see my good friend and coworker both at the bakery and at home. She’s a worrier by nature, but these numbers are concerning.

“Yes, it did,” I agree as I look at the calendar again and do the math on how long we’ve been fighting to stay afloat. Red marker rings the dates when loan payments were due. A penciled-in circle marks when my mother fell and broke her hip. “But if you take the loan repayments and their steep interest rates into account…” I narrow my eyes and seethe all over again, pissed about the “terms” that supposedly got altered without a word of warning.

“And then hiring Rob and Margarita,” she adds.

I nod along, tallying up those expenses. No wonder I haven’t been able to get the delivery side of the business going. When my mother fell and broke her hip, we paid out of pocket, since their insurance had lapsed. Then, with her out and my father staying at the hospital and later the rehab facility because she was so hard of hearing and frail, we needed two more people to fill their spots. Hence, Rob and Margarita. My parents had been working without paying themselves wages, so covering two new employees on the books has been a huge hit.

While Valentine’s Day gave us a boost, we’re nowhere near out of the hole.

“Maybe we can cut more corners and test out some direct delivery options soon,” I say. “A new thing for the spring.” I remember how that kind woman on the subway hinted I could shake off my gloom just because it’s a new year for new beginnings. Yeah, well, the new year has come and gone. We’re on the verge of a new season, winter sliding into spring, and I feel as stuck as ever.

No longer glum, but…mad.

“Jenni?” Margarita pops around the other side of the door. “That Markus guy is here again.” She cringes as both Jenni and I groan.

“Again?” I stand up, ready to give this guy another piece of my mind about how often he wants to come by and harass us.

“Easy there.” Jenni’s eyes pop open wide as she holds up her hands. “I’ll talk to him this time.”

I smirk, remembering how appalled she was the last time I went off on Markus, only a few days ago.

She heads toward the front of the bakery, and I slump back into the chair. The mention of his name riles me up, but just as fast as the mama-bear rage rises to defend the bakery, exhaustion drops in behind it.

“Maybe you need to, I dunno, nap back here or something.” Margarita frowns at me and shrugs. “You’re so testy lately, ya know?”

I do know. And I’m not sure what to make of it anymore. If this was the fresh aftermath of finding Roman sleeping with my best friend, then this anger would make sense. Margarita’s right, though.

“I’m sorry.” I tighten my ponytail and sigh again. It seems like no matter what I do, I can’t catch my breath fully. “I’m just so stressed lately.”

“Cuz you got a lot on your plate, Lil.” She pats my shoulder sympathetically. “But chill, boss girl. I’ll be Jen’s backup if that guy gets snippy again.” She winks and leaves.

I lean back on the chair and stare at the calendar pinned to the wall.

So much has gone down since the holidays that it seems natural for the stress to pile up and burn me out. Yet as I zone out and half hear Jenni’s voice in the distance while she deals with Markus, my eyes drift to the rows of squares on the calendar. The red and penciled circles marking important dates. All the weeks that have passed since the start of the year.

All that time since I saw Anton.

Since I felt him so deep inside of me.

Proving that I’m not frigid at all.

Oh, my God…

My stomach drops as I count back the weeks, then the days, and I gasp again.

“Oh no…” I cover my mouth with my hand, stunned that this could be behind how fast my temper flares lately. I’ve been feeling extra mean, but maybe it isn’t stress I can blame.

“If this isn’t PMS…” I whisper to myself.

Shaking my head as I think back through the days and weeks, I know that’s not the culprit I can blame in this instance.