“Hey, I know we texted about this last night but I wanted to actually talk to you about it. Are you really okay with this? I mean, with me writing about this?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

“Tracey, I’m really okay with it,” he said.

“But you…,” I switched the phone to my other ear and took a deep breath. “You realize that I’m going to tell the truth…the truth about everything.”

“I know. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

I smiled to myself. “Thank you.”

“I think it will make a good story.”

“I hope so. I just…hold on, I need to put you on speaker for a sec. I have to get the bread out of the oven.” I placed the phone on the butcher block and grabbed a pot holder.

“You’re baking?”

“Yes!” I called, as I opened the oven door.

“Really?” He sounded doubtful.

I pulled out the tray. “Okay, well maybe not exactly ‘baking’ per se but I got these frozen baguettes from Fresh Direct and all you have to do is cook them for 20 minutes and then you have this amazingly fresh french bread! I’ve been eating Brie sandwiches for weeks!”

He laughed. “I see.”

“Anyway, I just hope I tell it right. I’m nervous about how it will come across. I’m scared there will be some backlash.”

“Do you mean for me, or for you?”

“For both of us.”

“I don’t need you to protect me, Tracey. I’m glad you’re writing about it. I think it could be really important.”

I turned off the oven and picked up the phone again, clicking off speaker. I leaned against the butcher block and sighed. “Well, I guess I better get to work then.”

“You better,” he said. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Talk to you then.”

“Hey darlin’.”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t wait to read it.”

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