Homeless

Chapter 3

Danielle's POV

I try to keep my composure as I walk through the front door of my bakery. I am absolutely pissed that Lizzy had the audacity to try and kick the man who was staying out back out. He has never bothered us or the customers. This is my business and we're going to treat everyone with compassion, whether they are paying customers or not.

When I walk in the doors, I see Lizzy is already sketching out the design for today's menu. It's already 6:30am and I need to get started on the baking. I decide to postpone my conversation with Lizzy until later.

For today's menu, Anna and I crank out 5 dozen of our Christmas peppermint flavor, 5 dozen of the Black Forest cake, 3 dozen chocolate, 3 dozen vanilla and 3 dozen of our Italian cream cupcakes. I also decide to do 2 dozen of the lemon curd cupcakes. I teach Anna how to fill and frost the lemon curd cupcakes so I can finish up the wedding cake that's being picked up later this morning.

Baking is my biggest outlet. Especially when I'm frosting is when I get into my head and process things. As I add large amounts of buttercream frosting in between each layer, I can't help but think about my failed relationships, especially this most recent one.

It was a guy I met while on vacation in the UK 2 years ago. I actually met him at a bar and we really hit it off. Evan. He was tall, brunette and to top it off, he had a British accent. He also was a pretty successful business owner in the field of real estate as well as incredibly attractive.

I loved him. I loved us. For the first year, it was pure bliss. He would come to NY for a few weeks and I would visit him in the UK. We even got to the point where we were talking about marriage. It was perfect until—

"Dani!"

I almost drop the piping bag I'm holding when Lizzy interrupts my thoughts.

"Yeah, what's up?"

"That's the third name I've called your name," she says. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I say, adding more flowers to the cake. I was in my own thoughts, mindlessly frosting. I do have to say, the cake looks incredible.

"Anyways," Lizzy says, leaning on the counter across from me. "I'm about ready to call the cops on that homeless man out back. I shooed him away this morning and not even 3 hours later, he's back."

"Actually," I say, putting the piping bag down. "I've been meaning to talk to you about that. I don't want you calling the police on him and I don't want you shooing him away. Quite honestly, we've had this conversation before and my feelings have not changed.

"As the business owner, it's within my right to let him stay on my property. He's not hurting anyone or anything. Are you willing to respect that?"

"Dani." I can tell she isn't happy. "I'm just trying to look out for you and your business."

"And I appreciate your concern. But he's staying. If it bothers you, just ignore him. But no more shooing him away or telling him to leave."

Lizzy sighs. "Alright Dani. But I warned you. You can't trust New York City homeless."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes and pick up my frosting bag again. I put the finishing touches on the cake before packaging it securely for the wedding planner to come pick it up. It's absolutely gorgeous.

--

Derek's POV

As the morning goes on, I look down the alleyway to see a line forming. It's the daily line for the bakery. And now that I've tried these cupcakes, I know why.

The cupcakes the shop owner shared with me were absolutely incredible. The lemon cupcake from this morning was my favorite. It was so soft and sweet, with just a hint of lemon that left me wanting another cupcake. Even better was the surprise curd in the middle. It was perfect.

I lean my head back against the brick wall behind me and slowly start to drift off to sleep.

My dreams take me to my childhood. I'm back in my childhood home in New York's financial district. I vividly remember the year I turned 12. So much happened that year. That was the year my dad left our family to start a life with a girl he met at work. While I wasn't super close to my dad, I could count on him to provide what I needed. My family had a nice life with my dad providing.

My dream continues and takes me to the time everything got turned upside down. I'm sitting at the dining room table and my mom is sobbing. Between her tears, she is telling us that my dad has left us and isn't coming back. He has let my mom keep the house and has given us enough money to last a few years. "But he did this to make a clean break," my mom sobs. "He didn't even bother asking for custody!" My mom drops her head onto the table and my brother and I look at each other, unsure of what to say. "It's okay," my mom finally says. "We'll be okay."

I wake up to the sound of the bakery's backdoor opening. I see the shop owner struggling to drag a black trash bag out. It keeps getting caught between the door and the door frame.

I stand up and walk up the two steps to the backdoor. The woman sees me and smiles weakly.

"I got it," I say, reaching down to grab the bag. She holds the door open as I pick up the heavy trash bag. I walk the bag down the steps and to the dumpster across the way.

"Thanks," the woman says, stepping outside. "What's your name by the way?"

I look at her and again question if she's talking to me. This time there is no doubt that she's talking to me but I begin to wonder why she cares so much. I've never met a New Yorker this nice.

"Derek," I say, walking back towards my spot.

"I'm Danielle," she says, walking down the steps and approaching me. She sticks out her hand. "But you can call me Dani."

I eye her hand before slowly reaching mine out to shake hers.

"Nice to meet you," I say. When our hands connect, I realize that this is the first time I've touched another human in months, maybe even the first time this year. Her skin is soft and warm. A part of me feels bad, knowing what she's probably thinking. My hands are rough, calloused, cold and she's probably thinking—

"Nice to meet you too," she says, pulling me from my thoughts. "Can I get you some water? Or maybe a hot coffee?"

"I'm not a charity case," I mumble out before I can stop myself. As much as I've appreciated her kindness, I'm also starting to feel like she's helping me just to make herself feel better.

"I.. It's.. I...." She stutters over her words and takes a step back. "I'm not trying to treat you like a charity case," she finally says. "I'm sorry." She shuffles back up the stairs, leaving me alone in the cold NYC air.

I sigh then take a seat on my wool blanket. I didn't mean to be rude but something about her unsolicited help is starting to rub me the wrong way.