Soulmates are Overrated

Chapter Fourteen

The sunlight creeps through the window and shines a streak of light across my closed eyelids. I stir, trying to cuddle closer into the darkness. My hand pats the spot next to me. When I don't feel Julian, I blink one of my eyes open, revealing the empty space next to me.

I stretch my arms and sit up.

Gradually sliding my way off the bed, my muscles ache from the movement.

My feet carry me to the bathroom as a yawn escapes my mouth. It's only been a few minutes since I woke up, but I can already feel the germs crawling on my skin. I turn the knob in the shower and hop inside.

The water is hot as it runs down my back, creating a burning trail. My complexion is a burning red by the time I get out, but I barely notice when I look in the mirror. There are dark circles under my eyes and my wet hair doesn't help in making me look any more presentable.

I leave the bathroom in jeans and a t-shirt: the perfect Sunday outfit. Yawning for the tenth time this morning, I scrape my feet against the floor on my way to the kitchen. I reach to open the fridge, but stop when a post it note falls into my sight. Peeling it off the fridge, I read the scribbled words.

I won't be home until late tonight,

so I'll pick something up on my way home.

I love you,

Julian

I can't help the frown that spreads across my face. He told me he has a lot to catch up on, but it doesn't stop the disappointment from settling in my stomach.

My hand resumes in opening the fridge, but the only thing inside is ingredients. I'm not in much of a quick breakfast mood either, which eliminates the breakfast bars and bagels in the cabinet.

I close the fridge, allowing for the poster of Julian's bakery to fall in my line of sight. Its cover picture is of the buttery croissants Julian has miraculously mastered. A growl erupts in the kitchen and I instinctively place a hand on my stomach.

"Guess that means I'm going out for breakfast," I mumble to myself.

***

I park along the sidewalk in front of Julian's bakery. The classic brick building is on the corner of the street. There is a baby blue overhang shadowing the entrance with the words "Sweet Treats" written in white on it. A few posters litter the window with images of the delicious desserts Julian crafts.

I glance in the mirror on the side of my door to ensure no cars are flying up the street before I get out. Luckily, Sunday's are pretty slow in this part of town.

Walking to the entrance of the bakery, I bury my keys into my purse. When I raise my head back up, my step falters. The scene playing inside causes me to stop a foot from the doors.

Julian is leaning against one of the tables with a big smile on his face. The size of his smile doesn't even come close to the girl's, who is staring at him intently. Her straight orange hair cascades down her back and bounces as she talks. She moves a step closer to him in her shiny red heels.

Who dresses like that when they go to a bakery?

She runs a playful hand against Julian's arm. He laughs along with her.

A queasy feeling fills my stomach and I suddenly feel the urge to hurl last night's dinner on the sidewalk.

He says something that makes her throw her head back in laughter, pushing his chest in the process. That is the final straw for me to push open the door. The woman eyes me up and down and I regret that I threw on casual clothes this morning while she probably had an entire wardrobe crew.

Julian's laughter dies down as his eyes land on me, quickly removing himself from the foot of a distance between them. He moves towards me and attempts to plant a kiss on my cheek, but I give him a look that causes him to back off.

"What are you doing here, Al?" Julian asks.

"I came to surprise my husband for breakfast." I make eye contact with the pretty girl as I say this. She smiles politely and I feel my blood start to boil. "Who is she?" I can't help the accusation that comes off in my voice.

Julian messes with the watch on his wrist, the same way he always does when he's hiding something. "This is Brittnay. Brittany, this is my wife, Alexis."

Neither myself, nor Brittany mutter a word.

"Brittany was just leaving actually."

"Yes, I have a few meetings to attend." She readjusts the purse strap on her shoulder before her heels clack on the floor in her path to us. She holds out her hand to me, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Davis." I cross my arms and she removes her hand from the space between us. "Julian, it was nice seeing you again. I will be sure to call you when I find something."

So she's on a first name basis with my husband?

"Thank you, Brittany." Julian says sincerely.

Brittany walks out of the door, putting sunglasses on before she continues her saunter down the street. She probably has some kind of limousine waiting for her around the corner.

"So..." Julian claps his hands together. "Are you hungry?"

"Who is she?"

He walks to the counter, avoiding eye contact. "She's just helping me out with some things." He reaches into the glass case below the countertop and brings a muffin into sight.

"What things?"

He tries to meet my gaze before making his way back to me. "Here," he attempts to hand me a cinnamon sugar muffin, my favorite, but when I don't accept it. "Al, you have to eat."

I don't budge and he sets the muffin down on the table beside me. He places his hands on my arms, matching my glare with a pleading one.

"She was helping me with some of the suppliers. I'm having trouble getting everything in when I need it, so she's pulling some strings to help me."

After a moment of scanning his facial features as though they will offer up every secret of his, I drop my arms. "She was awfully handsy for a colleague."

A smile cracks through his worried expression. "I didn't even notice."

"Says the man who was just allowing another woman to flirt with him."

"That was flirting?" He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me closer.

I roll my eyes, earning a soft chuckle from him.

"Well, as much as I want to stay here with you, I do have to accomplish at least some things today. I'm going to go finish checking the stock in the back." He places a quick peck on my lips before leaving.

When he is out of the room, I drop my hands and sit down in a chair closest to me, but furthest from any lingering germs from Brittany.

I pick at the paper around the muffin in front of me. I used to only eat the top of muffins because the base never tasted as good as the buttery top. When Julian found this out, he spent weeks trying to come up with the perfect muffin for me: cinnamon sugar muffins with a hint of caramel here and there.

My fingers tear off a piece that I shove in my mouth and I can't help the small smile that forms on my lips from the delicious taste.