(Scarlett’s POV)
I watch him turn a page in the picture book, his voice animated as he <i>does </i>different character voices. The children are hanging on every word.
“People make mistakes,” she continues. “Lord knows I’ve made my share. But marriage isn’t about happily ever after, like they show in TVs these days. Marriage is aboutpanionship, forgiveness, and growth.”
“1…”
“Twoplete strangersing together, adjusting andpromising <i>to </i>make their life’s journey easier throughpanionship and forgiveness, while growing together.” She squeezes my shoulder. “Don’t let resentmente between you. Life’s too short, <i>and </i>love’s too precious.”
I don’t say anything in response to her words, but I contemte them throughout our visit.
When it’s time to go, the goodbyes take forever. Every child wants one more hug, one more promise that I’lle back soon. I make those promises carefully this time, meaning every
word.
“Next Saturday?” Jessica asks, holding my hand like she’s afraid I’ll disappear again.
“I’ll be here,” I tell her. And for the first time in four years, I know I will be.
In <i>the </i>parking lot, Jasper and I stand by our cars in the fading daylight. Thefortable silence of the afternoon has given way to something more charged, more uncertain.
“Thank you,” I say finally. “For keeping them connected to me. For not letting them think I’d abandoned them.”
“You didn’t abandon them. <i>You </i>were building a life. They understand that.”
“But you never stoppeding. Even after we…” I can’t finish the sentence.
“Even after I destroyed everything,” he finishes for me. “Yeah. I never stoppeding.”
“Why?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
He’s quiet for so long I think he won’t answer. Then he looks at me with eyes that hold years of regret.
“Because it was the only way I could deal with the pain of losing you.”
< Chapter 83
The words hit me like a physical blow. I lean against my car, suddenly dizzy.
“Jasper-<b>” </b>
More Rewards
“I’m not saying that to pressure you. Or to make you feel guilty. I’m saying it because it’s true.” He runs a hand through his hair. “You asked why I kepting here, why I kept your connection to them alive. That’s why.”
“You could have told me. When we met again, you could have told me <i>you </i>were still doing
this.”
“Would it have changed anything?”
The question hangs in the air between us. Would it have? Would knowing that he spent every Saturday with children who missed me have softened my heart toward him?
I don’t know. But standing here now, watching him unlock his car with hands that have spent four years keeping promises I’d forgotten I’d made, I feel something shift inside my chest.
On the drive back to my apartment, I keep sneaking nces at Jasper. I don’t know what I’m looking for…maybe a glimpse of the man I fell in love with at first sight, or the one I ran away from four years ago…the more time I spend with him, the more and more I feel conflicted.
“You know,” he says as we pull into my parking lot, “I’ve been thinking about what Sister Margaret said. About you teaching the kids to bake.”
I shift in my seat to face him. “What about it?”
“What if we made it happen?” His eyes light up with an enthusiasm I haven’t seen in years. “I could donate some basic equipment – mixers, baking sheets, a few ovens. Nothing fancy, but enough for them <i>to </i>learn.”
The idea catches <i>me </i>off guard. “Jasper…”
“Think about it. You could teach them your techniques, your recipes. They could make their own bread, maybe even sell some of it to bring in ie for the orphanage.” He’s talking faster now, the way he used to when he got excited about a project. “They’d learn a valuable skill, something that could help them when they age out of the system.”
Something warm spreads through my chest. “You’ve really thought this through.”
“I’ve had four years to think about a lot of things.” His voice goes quiet. “I know I can’t undo the past. But maybe I can help build something better for the future. For them. For you.”
I stare at him, this man who once felt like a stranger wearing my husband’s face. But sitting here <i>now</i>, listening to him talk about giving these kids opportunities, I see glimpses of the
:
< Chapter 83
person I fell in love with all those years ago.
More Rewards
“I’d need time to prepare,” I say slowly. “Lesson ns, simplified recipes they can handle. And with the mall location just opening, I’m stretched pretty thin.”
“Take all the time you need. A few weeks, a month. Whatever works for you.”
“You’d really do that? Donate all the equipment?”
“Scarlett.” He turns in his seat, meeting my eyes directly. “Those kids love <i>you</i>. And after today, watching you with them… this is what you’re meant to <i>do</i>. Teaching, nurturing, helping people create something beautiful.” He pauses. “I should have seen it years ago.”
My throat feels tight. “Jasper-<b>” </b>
“You don’t have to say anything. Just think about it, okay?”
I nod, not trusting my voice. He gets out to help me get Lily from Chloe, who has just arrived to drop her off. As Jasper lifts Lily carefully from her car seat, she stirs and wraps her small
arms around his neck.
“Daddy,” she mumbles against his shoulder.
“Daddy’s here, baby girl. And I’ll always be here.”
Something clenches in my chest watching them together. The easy way he holds her, the gentleness in his voice. The way she trusts himpletely, even half–asleep.
“Thank you,” I say as he hands her to me at my front door. “For today. For… everything.”
“Thank <i>you </i>foring with me. It meant everything to them. To me.”
After he leaves, I tuck Lily into bed and sit in my kitchen with a cup of tea, thinking about everything that happened today. The sessful opening of the mall location. The children at the orphanage. Jasper’s proposal about teaching them to bake.
The way he looked at me when he said some people are worth waiting for. <fn3f93> Newest update provided by find(?)ovel</fn3f93>
I’m still thinking about it a weekter as I stand in the mall bakery, watching Andrew work through the morning rush. The trial run has been more sessful than I could have imagined. Lines form before we even open, and we’re selling out of most items by early afternoon.
“Scarlett,” Andrew calls me over during a brief lull. “Can we talk about the cinnamon bunny bread?”
I join him behind the counter. “What about it?”
< Chapter 83
More Rewards >
“They’re our biggest seller. Always the first to go.” He wipes his hands on his apron. “But they take forever to make. All that shaping, the double rise time for the texture you want. If we could streamline the process, we could double our output.”
“Streamline how?”
“Cut the rising time in half. Make them regr round buns instead of the bunny shape. We’d save hours of work and could make twice as many.”
I feel something cold settle in my stomach. “No.”
“Scarlett, think about the profit margin=”
“I said no.” My voicees out sharper than I intended. “The rising time is what gives them their texture. Cut that in half and they’ll be dense, chewy. Nothing like what they should be.”
Andrew frowns. “Most customers won’t notice the difference if we save a few cents per unit
“I’ll notice.” I cross my arms. “And the customers will too. Maybe not consciously, but they’ll
taste the difference.”
“Look, I get that you’re passionate about quality. But this is business. We need to think about efficiency, scbility-”
“This isn’t just business.” The wordse out heated, and I take a breath, trying to calm down. “Andrew, I know you mean well. But those bunny shapes… you know why I started making them that way?”
He shakes his head.
“There was a little girl at the orphanage. Emma. She was maybe four when I started visiting, and she was terrified of everything. Wouldn’t talk to anyone, barely ate. But she loved rabbits.” I lean against the counter, the memory clear in my mind. “So I started shaping the cinnamon rolls like bunnies just for her. The first time she smiled was when she saw one of those silly
bread rabbits.”
Andrew’s expression softens. “Scarlett…”
“Now she’s ten, and she still asks Jasper if I’m making bunny bread for the kids. And you know what? Every child who buys one of those from us lights up when they see the shape. They take pictures, they show their friends. They’re not buying bread, Andrew. They’re buying a little bit of joy.”
“But the profit-”
< Chapter 83
More Rewards
“Will be fine.” I meet his eyes. “Yes, it takes longer. Yes, it’s more work. But that’s what makes it special. That’s what makes it mine. The moment we start cutting <i>corners </i>to maximize profit is the moment we be just another bakery selling industrial bread.”
Violet Moon
#Vote#<b>! </b>