Elena
A week later
“And that would be our favorite mailman,” Lexa chimes, making me look up.
Micheal, the local mailman, steps into the bakery, a letter clutched under his arm as the bell above the door rings. I can’t help the smile that splits onto my face. I love the locals here and know most by name now.
It is also obvious they know exactly what I am, but never say anything, which just proves everything Jake had been telling the women was a lie. They don’t care as long as we aren't causing trouble.
“Hey, Elena.” He smiles softly.
Micheal is around my mother’s age. Every day I am working at the bakery, he stops in to buy some of Sondra’s mini cheesecakes. Smiling, I get up from my stool behind the counter. The boys are asleep in their rockers by my feet, and Micheal peers over
