Love Served With A Slice Of Break-Up Pie

Prologue.

Raylene’s POV.

As I waited impatiently for my flight to begin boarding, I couldn’t help but wonder if the other passengers could see the fear on my face. No one, except my friend Kelsey and my boyfriend Michael, even knew I was there. I had lied to my parents. They believed I was spending the week with Kelsey and her family. Instead, I’m flying halfway across the country to meet my boyfriend for the first time.

I’ll admit it. I’m one of those girls who fell for a guy online. My parents think it’s ridiculous and have repeatedly chastised me for thinking that I have real feelings for him. Now, imagine their attitude if I had confessed to them that he happens to be six years older than I. Even though I’m 20 years old, I knew they would try to force me to end things with him. Since I still live at home, they feel as if I have to obey their every rule.

I refuse to deny my feelings for Michael. From the first time we chatted online, I felt a connection. So, here we are, a few months later, and he paid for my flight to visit him in Phoenix while he was completing a summer internship. I’ve never flown before, and my stomach is in knots, but I know it’ll be worth it when I finally see him.

I spent the entire flight gripping the armrest and staring out the window. I was thankful it was a smooth flight, or I might have needed that little throw-up bag. We had finally landed, and butterflies were doing a Cirque Du Soleil show in my stomach. If I could have pushed people out of my way, I absolutely would have done it. I wanted nothing more than to run into the terminal and jump into his arms.

When I finally made it through the crowd, it only took me a moment to spot his incredibly handsome face. Oh, those deep blue eyes, they could have melted me like butter! As I rushed towards him, an expression spread across his face that I couldn’t understand. I expected a huge smile and a warm embrace. Instead, I got a “hey” and an awkward smile. ‘What the hell?’

Michael remained relatively quiet as he drove us back to his apartment. I attempted to ask him what was wrong, but he simply sighed and refused to make eye contact with me. When we arrived at his apartment, he immediately left me in the living room and headed for a room down the hall. Not knowing what was wrong, I chose to wait for him on the couch.

When he walked back into the room, he had a look of disappointment on his face. I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Michael, what is wrong?” I asked while he continued to avoid eye contact. He let out a long sigh and briefly met my gaze. He said, “I can’t do this. You shouldn’t have come.”

In that moment, I felt as if someone had reached through my chest and ripped my heart out. I struggled to form full words. “Wh- wh’ what do you mean? Wh- what did I do?” was all I could ask. Michael stared down at the floor as if his shoes had become the most interesting things in the world. He softly muttered, “You need to go home. I’ll get your flight changed.”

As I sat there stunned, I couldn’t even cry. He quietly retreated down the hall, leaving me dazed and confused. ‘What the hell just happened?’ I thought to myself. I don’t know how much time passed before he eventually returned to the room. Before I could even think of what to say, he announced, “I booked you a new flight. The earliest I could get is tomorrow morning.”

He was still refusing to make eye contact with me, and I was struggling to process what was happening. I had envisioned our first meeting so many times. I dreamt of him embracing me, the feel of those muscular arms finally wrapped around me. So what the hell is happening here?? Why is he suddenly set on sending me back home?

I let out a quiet breath that I didn’t realize I had been holding. “Michael, you owe me an explanation. You can’t just tell me I need to go home without giving me a reason. We’ve spent the last three months sharing our thoughts and feelings.” My whole body was shaking as I spoke, but I needed answers.

He briefly glanced at me before asking, “Do you honestly want me to say it?” I couldn’t have possibly prepared myself for what he was about to say, but I had to know. I nodded my head and whispered a “Yes.” A loud sigh escaped his lips, and he proceeded to say, “You’re not as pretty as my ex-fiancée.”

As I repeatedly blinked back tears, he once again retreated to his room. I was left sitting on the couch, attempting to process what he had just said to me. Even though this was our first time meeting in person, it’s not like we hadn’t exchanged pictures with one another. He knew what I looked like and often told me that I was beautiful. Why am I being compared to his ex? In all of our conversations, he only mentioned her once when he confessed that he had been engaged two years ago.

While lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice when he came back into the room. I suddenly heard movements and glanced around to discover him in the kitchen. As he began to gather ingredients, he said, “I’ll cook dinner. If you need to freshen up, the bathroom is the door on the left down the hall.” I silently watched him for a moment before finding my way to the bathroom.

When I returned to the living room, the delightful aroma of onion and garlic filled the air. If he hadn’t just shattered my heart, I would have offered to help with the cooking. I had spent many nighttime chats sharing with him how much I love to cook and especially bake. He knew that I had a desire to one day be a master baker. His promises to help me pursue my dream would not be happening now.

He was still avoiding eye contact with me, but he attempted to make conversation about the meal while we ate. If there were an award for most awkward moment, I’m confident our dinner together would have won. After he had cleared the dishes, he asked, “Do you want to watch a movie? It’s still pretty early.” I didn’t think this could get more awkward, but he kept proving me wrong.

We sat on opposite sides of the couch, and he flipped through movie titles aimlessly. He picked an action flick, and I was grateful that there weren’t any love scenes in it. Ass kicking and foul language was what I could handle.

As the movie ended, Michael stood up to stretch. He briefly glanced in my direction and said, “You can have the bedroom and I’ll take the couch.” He was offering to give up his bed. Why was he now trying to be kind? The thought of being in his bedroom had me fighting back tears. I had come all this way believing that I’d be losing my virginity in that very room. I was lost in my thoughts and suddenly realized he was waiting for me to respond. “That’s okay. I’ll be fine on the couch.”

I swear I heard a soft sigh escape his lips. “Oh. Well, goodnight then. If you need anything, just knock on my door.”

I watched him retreat down the hallway and listened for his door to close before letting out a long sigh. My head was still spinning from all the day’s events. My body was fighting exhaustion, but I knew my mind wouldn't shut off anytime soon. I needed a distraction.

Baking has always been my go-to escape. I quietly searched his kitchen and pulled out everything I needed to bake a peach cobbler. My heart ached at the thought that I had promised him I would bake him one while I was here. As I gathered the ingredients, I realized that he had shopped for everything I would need. I quickly pulled my long, unruly curls into a loose bun. If only for a short while, I allowed myself to get lost in my passion for baking. I poured out all my love into this one delicate peach cobbler.

After the cobbler had cooled, I tucked it away in the refrigerator with a handwritten note that read, ‘I always keep my promises. I hope you enjoy your break-up pie.’ I cleaned up the kitchen and then crashed on the couch.

As rays of sunlight began to peek through the windows, I heard footsteps coming down the hall. Michael stood at the end of the couch, looking just as exhausted as I felt. I couldn’t help but wonder if he also struggled to sleep last night. ‘Guilty conscience, maybe?’ I thought to myself.

The drive back to the airport felt excruciatingly long. The silence between us was deafening. Every once in a while, I caught him glancing at me from out of the corner of my eye. I was still struggling with the fact that I was being sent back home, heartbroken and ashamed.

When we arrived at the airport, Michael walked me up to the security checkpoint. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but clearly couldn’t get the words out. We stood in that awkward silence for a moment before I turned towards the line. I couldn’t leave without speaking, even though my mind was screaming ‘Just walk away!’

I quickly turned back towards him and stood on my tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. I whispered in his ear, “I hope you find your happiness.” With that said, I turned back towards the checkpoint and proceeded to walk away from the man who had crushed my heart, thinking I’d never see him again.

5 Years Later.

Raylene POV.

“Wait, he said WHAT?!?” my best friend, Tessa, practically screamed at me.

It was Sunday morning, and we were seated at a table in my bakery. Ever since I opened my business, it had been our tradition to meet here for breakfast every Sunday before I opened for the day.

I took a long sip of my mimosa and let out a sigh. “He said I would be more attractive if my breasts were smaller.”

Tessa’s eyes blinked rapidly in disbelief. “Wait, he said this after sex?”

Without pausing, I quickly replied, “No. During.” I took my glass and downed the rest of my drink in an attempt to forget my most recent humiliation. I could tell by the look on her face that my dear friend was just as astonished as I had been.

I was still trying to make sense of what had transpired the night before. After chatting online and making phone calls for a few years, I was finally going to meet my sexy French-Canadian friend, Jean-Claude. He was stopping in Chicago for an overnight layover before heading overseas for business.

I had left the bakery early that afternoon to get myself dolled up before picking him up at the airport. As it had been a while since I had a real date, I took extra care to make sure my body was ready for viewing. Have all the appropriate areas been shaved and trimmed? Check. My long, auburn, unruly curls tamed? Check. Matching underwear? Check. An outfit that hid my extra cushioning, AKA my chubbiness, while highlighting my assets? Check. Makeup that looked natural but still hid the dark circles that come with working long hours? Check. I was ready!

From the moment he stepped into the terminal, I felt a spark of excitement between us. We had spent the past few years sharing our lives through our chats and late-night phone calls. It only took a moment for that initial awkward feeling to disappear.

We enjoyed dinner at one of my favorite bistros. Our conversation flowed freely. I felt like I could comfortably be myself around him. So I didn’t hesitate at the idea of being intimate with him. After all, we had shared many naughty thoughts during our late-night chats over the years. When I saw the noticeable bulge in his pants, I knew that I wasn’t the only one feeling the attraction.

So imagine my shock when he casually says to me, “You know you’d be more attractive if your breasts were smaller,” while he proceeds to fondle said breasts. How exactly does one respond to that?

****

Tessa’s voice quickly pulled me out of my thoughts. “What the hell did you do?”

“What could I do? He was already balls deep in me and racing to the finish line. I’m just thankful he had already satisfied me before he said it, or I’d be even more frustrated!”

Tessa playfully smacked my hand and snorted. “Ray, you are wicked!” She popped a piece of her chocolate croissant into her mouth and gave out a delighted sigh. “Sp, is Jean-Claude deserving of a break-up pie like ‘He Who Shall Not Be Named’?”

As I took the last bite of my blueberry muffin, I gave thought to her question. “Oh no, that honor is still solely reserved for him alone. Jean-Claude’s words were harsh, but he didn’t break me, and I at least got a fantastic orgasm before he was rude.”

With that said, I headed to the kitchen to bake a fresh breakup pie. I scroll through my Amazon Music playlists, searching for my 'Kick Ass Women' songs. The sound of Kelly Clarkson’s ‘Stronger’ blasts through the Bluetooth speaker, and I’m ready to bake. As I sift my dry pie crust ingredients, I can’t help but sing out loud, “You think you got the best of me. Think you’ve had the last laugh. Bet you think that everything good is gone. Think you left me broken down. Think that I’ll come running back. Baby, you don’t know me ‘cause you’re dead wrong.”

By the time I place the pie in the oven, my voice sounds a little hoarse from singing so loudly, but my mood has improved. I quickly clean up my workbench as I hear the sounds of my employees arriving for the opening shift. I stroll into the counter area and find my staff busy stocking the display cases and chatting amongst themselves.

When Sasha catches my eye, she immediately asks, “So, how was the date with your sexy French pen pal?”

“Technically, he’s French-Canadian, and it was memorable.” I’m pretty sure she could see my eyes repeatedly rolling with my response.

Sasha smirked. “Wow, vague much, Ray?”

I let out a chuckle and went to unlock the bakery doors. I could already see a few of our regular Sunday morning customers waiting outside, eager to partake in their weekly morning rituals of socializing while feasting on my tantalizing pastries.

Mrs. Stewart, a sixty-year-old woman who owned a small used bookstore down the street, strolled in to get her daily cappuccino and croissant. She gave me a warm smile as she headed to her favorite table.

“Raylene, dear, I heard you had a date this weekend. How did it go?”

Before I could even let out a sigh, Sasha quickly answered her with, “She said it was memorable.” If there hadn’t been other customers around, I would have flipped her the bird, but instead just rolled my eyes…again.

Mrs. Stewart, never one to mince words, asks, “What the hell does that mean?”

Now my sigh was much more audible. As I gently rub my temples in an attempt to keep a headache at bay, I remind myself that sometimes having a close-knit community can be a pain in the ass.

“It means that, like everything else in my life, it had its high points and its low points. And no, it’s not breakup pie-worthy.”

And with that, I headed back into my safe space, the kitchen, to be alone with my thoughts, my tunes, and my sweets.