004: The boy she rejected

Leon's POV

I did not want to be here.

My grandmother had called me three times in the span of ten minutes while I was in a meeting with potential investors. When Eleanor Hart called three times, you answered or faced the consequences. The consequences usually involved guilt trips about how she was getting older and how I never had time for her anymore.

"Leon, darling, I need cinnamon rolls," she had said when I finally picked up.

"Grandmother, I'm in the middle of something important."

"More important than your dying grandmother's last wish? If you had found love and gotten married like I wished all this time, maybe your wife would've kept me company and I wouldn't die of loneliness!"

She was not dying and we both knew it but I had learned years ago that arguing with her was pointless. "What did you say you needed?"

"Cinnamon rolls. It doesn't matter where you get them from. Just get me some."

I had no idea why she suddenly wanted to have pastries, but I agreed to buy them because it was easier than listening to her complain. So here I was, walking into some random bakery in a part of town I rarely visited, all because my grandmother wanted cinnamon rolls.

The bell above the door chimed as I stepped inside. The place was small and old-fashioned with worn wooden floors and display cases that had seen better days. A few tables sat empty near the window.

I was about to call out when I saw her behind the counter.

My brain stopped working for a second because it could not be her and there was no way she was standing right in front of me after all these years.

Anastasia Page.

She looked different from how I remembered, but I would have recognized her anywhere. She had the same dark hair, same delicate features, same full lips. But she looked exhausted and there were dark circles under her eyes like she had not slept in days. Her apron was covered in flour and her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail.

Despite her disheveled looks, she was still the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

She looked up from whatever she was doing and our eyes met for a brief second before she looked back down. She obviously did not recognize me. Why would she? The last time she saw me I was fifty pounds lighter with acne and saggy clothes. Even though my family had money, I had a strained relationship with my father and was literally raised by my grandma.

I had been invisible back then and she had barely noticed me until we were partnered for a project in our economics class. For six weeks I got to sit next to her and listen to her talk and watch her smile and I fell completely in love with her. When the project ended, we remained friends and she tushed me up. She taught me how to dress better and have self confidence. I worked up the courage to ask her out and tell her how I felt.

She had agreed, only to meet up the next day and say she was flattered but she was dating Lucas Crawley and they were serious. Then she walked away and I never spoke to her again.

Lucas Crawley. Just thinking his name made my jaw clench and my hands ball into fists. Lucas had made my life hell in college and he seemed to enjoy every second of it. He would knock my books out of my hands in the hallway and trip me in the cafeteria and spread rumors that I was gay or poor or both. And the worst part was that Anastasia had chosen him over me.

I took a breath and walked up to the counter. "Excuse me."

Anastasia looked up and forced a smile that did not reach her eyes. "Hi, welcome to Sweet Seasons. What can I get for you?"

Her voice was exactly the same and hearing it after six years made my chest tight.

"I need a dozen cinnamon rolls," I said.

"Of course, let me get those for you." She moved to the display case and started pulling out rolls with shaking hands.

I watched her carefully and saw that something was very wrong. The way she moved was mechanical like she was forcing herself to go through the motions. Her hands shook as she placed each roll in the box.

"Anastasia?" I said.

She looked up sharply her eyes wide with shock or confusion.

"Leon?" she whispered. "Leon Hart?"

"Yeah, it's me." I could not help the small smile that crossed my face. "It's been a while."

"Oh my god." She set the box down and stared at me. "I almost didn't recognize you. You look so different."

"Six years will do that." I had filled out and grown into my height and learned how to dress truly like someone who came from a lot of wealth and money. "You look good."

It was a lie and she knew it because she scoffed sarcastically.. "I look terrible."

"Are you okay?" I asked even though I already knew the answer.

She opened her mouth to say yes but then her face crumpled and tears filled her eyes. She turned away quickly and wiped at her face with the back of her hand. "I'm fine, sorry. Let me finish boxing these up for you."

"Anastasia." I kept my voice gentle. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm just tired." She went back to putting rolls in the box but her hands were shaking so badly she almost dropped one. "It's been a long week."

I waited because I could see she was barely holding it together. After a moment she stopped moving and just stood there with her back to me. Her shoulders started shaking.

"I'm not okay," she said and her voice broke. "I'm really not okay."

She turned around and tears were streaming down her face. She looked so broken and lost that I felt sorry for her. This was not the confident girl from college who had walked away from me without a second thought. This was someone who had been shattered.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked.

She shook her head but then started talking anyway. "Lucas and I got divorced. Well, not divorced exactly because apparently our marriage was never legal to begin with. He cheated on me with my cousin and kicked me out and now the bank is threatening to take my bakery if I don't pay my mortgage by January and I have no idea how I'm going to save it."

The words came out in a rush and she was crying harder now. I stood there processing what she just told me. Lucas cheated on her and kicked her out.

"I'm sorry," she said and wiped her eyes again. "You don't need to hear about my problems. Let me finish getting your order."

"How much do you owe on the bakery?" I asked.

She looked at me confused. "What?"

"How much debt are you in?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

"Just tell me."

She hesitated and then sighed. "About eighty thousand between the bank loan and mortgage. Why?"

Eighty thousand. That was nothing to me and I spent more than that on a car last month. An idea was forming in my mind and the more I thought about it, the more perfect it became.

How could I get revenge on Lucas for everything he put me through back then in college? How could I also get my grandmother off my back about settling down and getting married?

"Meet me for coffee tomorrow," I said. "I want to discuss something with you."

"Leon, I can't ask you for money."

"You're not asking. Meet me tomorrow at the café on Fourth Street. Ten in the morning."

She looked uncertain but I could see the desperate hope in her eyes. She was drowning. She would take any help she could find.

"Okay," she said quietly. "I'll be there."

"Good." I pulled out my wallet and paid for the cinnamon rolls even though I had forgotten all about them. "I'll see you tomorrow, Anastasia."

I walked out of the bakery with my mind racing and already planning exactly what I was going to say to her. Executing my plans was going to feel very, very good.