by Marie Landry
A moment of silence hangs heavy between us before TJ says, “He doesn’t seem like your type.”
Ignoring the inappropriate statement, I move to cross my arms over my chest, then think better of it and let them hang at my sides. As a lawyer, TJ is well versed in body language, and I don’t want him thinking of my posture as defensive. “Thank you for the flowers you sent to the café yesterday. I really do wish you’d just leave me be, though, TJ. It’s been three years and I’ve moved on. We both know you moved on before that.”
Something akin to guilt flashes across his face, along with a wince. “I meant it when I said I’ve changed, Willow. I know it’s unfair of me to ask you to give me a chance to clear the air, but I have so many regrets about how things ended between us. There was never any true closure.”
He always was persistent. There was a time when I found that trait, along with his confidence, attractive. Despite there being times when his self-assuredness bordered on cocky, I usually found it more amusing than anything. Now I can’t help but compare him to a child who’s used to getting his way and won’t accept anything different.
“I don’t see how us sitting down together over a meal or even coffee is going to change anything. Rehashing the past isn’t my idea of gaining closure. And catching up on what we’ve missed in each other’s lives over the last three years isn’t gaining closure either, it’s opening things up again.”
I expect him to frown or maybe even break out the sad puppy eyes. What I don’t expect is the almost-smirk that crosses his face. “Are you afraid spending time with me might stir up old feelings?” He takes a step closer and reaches for my arm, giving the sleeve of my sweater a gentle tug.
There’s that old cockiness. I wish I could scoff and brush him off, but he’s right: that’s exactly what I’m afraid of. I pull my sleeve from his grip and fold my arms over my chest, defensive posture be damned. I need to protect my heart from the man who shattered it. “Honestly? Yes.”
His eyebrows lift at my words and the smirk softens into a wistful smile. “Willow—”
I cut him off before he can say anything else. “I can’t let that happen. I won’t. Getting over you was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. You didn’t just break my heart, TJ, you shook my confidence and made me doubt so many things about myself. It took me a long time to rebuild, and I like who I am now. I’ve worked hard to become this person, and I won’t let anything or anyone take that away from me.”
His eyes are wide now. I flick my gaze away from his so I won’t be affected by the remorse there. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, taking a step back. I hadn’t realized how tight my chest was until he’s out of my personal space and I can breathe easier. “Truly sorry, Willow. I was an idiot and I’ll regret that for the rest of my life, but…that’s on me.”
All I can do is nod.
“Do you believe it’s possible for people to change, Willow? Really change? I think you’ve changed. Part of the reason I wish I hadn’t fucked up so badly is because I’d love to get to know the person you are now. I think maybe she and I could be friends.”
“I do believe people can change, and you’re right that I have. Maybe we can and even will be friends someday, I don’t know. The best I can offer you right now is to be cordial.”
His lips twitch. “Raspberry cordial?”
I swallow a laugh. “Don’t.” I point a threatening finger at him, even though my voice doesn’t hold any heat. “Don’t use my love of Anne of Green Gables to try to sway me.”
He nods, pressing his lips together. I think he’s attempting to hold back a grin, but the telltale smile lines around his eyes pop through anyway. I hate how those crinkles make me nostalgic. I hate that he remembers our old inside jokes and that the way to my heart is through fandom references.
“Right,” he says. “If cordial is all you can offer for now, I’ll take it. And I promise not to seek you out again. I can see now how wanting to clear the air was selfish on my part.”
“Thank you.” I hitch my purse up on my shoulder again and take a small step back. “For what it’s worth, I do believe you when you say you’re sorry. And…well…” I was going to say ‘maybe eventually we can move past everything and be friends’ but I don’t know if that’s what I want. So much has changed in such a short period of time, and I’m still adjusting to this new life.
“Yeah.” Somehow that word holds a world of understanding. “I’ll see you around, Willow. Take care of yourself.”
“You too, TJ,” I murmur as he walks away.
Whether he meant it to or not, this conversation—and seeing him looking more gorgeous than ever, plus feeling that painfully familiar pull to him—has opened up old feelings, both good and bad. While I knew I couldn’t avoid TJ forever, this is the reason I have been avoiding him since I returned to Bellevue.
Dr. Gupta, the therapist I saw in Toronto, often reminded me avoidance was what led to the depressive spiral that caused me to seek out professional help. I left Bellevue hoping for a fresh start, even though I knew I couldn’t leave my emotional baggage behind any more than my actual baggage. It seems I did leave some of it here, though, and I was just reunited with it.
Irritation flares through me as I march toward the parking lot. While I’m proud of myself for finally facing TJ and saying some of what I’ve wanted to say, Dr. Gupta’s voice whispers through my mind telling me I now need to confront all the emotions our unexpected meeting stirred up.
I’m reminded of the journal I started keeping at Dr. Gupta’s suggestion a few years ago. I splurged on a beautiful sketchbook that would allow me to write what I was thinking and feeling while also drawing and getting creative with stickers. A friend I worked with bought me a set of Adulting planner stickers with sayings like ‘put on real pants’, ‘did the dishes’, and ‘ate a vegetable’.
I haven’t written or drawn in my journal for a few months now, but I imagine using one of the leftover blank stickers on today’s date in the planner I started using when Marisol and I opened Cravings. I wonder if I have a leftover blank gold star and if ‘survived confrontation with my ex’ would fit.
CHAPTER SIX
I’ve just pulled three pumpkin chocolate chip loaves out of the oven when I hear Gwen and Evan’s voices in the café. I pop the loaves on a cooling rack, taking a moment to inhale the spice-scented steam before removing my oven mitts and leaving the kitchen.
“Hey!” Gwen says, her eyes wide and overbright. She tosses her purse on a chair at the table where Evan is sitting with a couple. The guy looks like a slightly older version of Evan, and the beautiful Black woman beside him is sporting a perfectly round baby bump, so I’m guessing they’re Evan’s brother and sister-in-law, Malcolm and Sherée.
I wave Gwen forward, and she scurries over without a backward glance. As she approaches, I watch the others; Evan is rolling his eyes while Sherée shakes her head at something Malcolm is saying.
“Trouble?” I ask when Gwen reaches the counter.
“You could say that. Is it a health violation for me to go into the kitchen to hide out for a minute?”
“That bad?” I ask, and she nods. “Come on back then.”
She shoots a glance over her shoulder at Evan. A silent conversation seems to pass between the pair, ending with him giving her a smile and tilt of the head, and her following me into the kitchen. I try to ignore the little tug in my heart that reminds me of how I long for a similar connection with someone.
“What’s with all the tension out there?” I ask, setting about making Gwen a French vanilla cappuccino.
“Where do I begin?” With a heavy sigh, she perches on a stool out of the way. “Malcolm is feeling guilty because he’s had to work a lot lately. He was supposed to take a few weeks off when the baby is born, but his company just got a new project or client or something, and he agreed to work remotely. Sherée is worried he’ll be as swamped working from home as he would be in the office.”
“What
does he do?”
Gwen scrunches her nose. “Well…I’m not exactly sure?”
I laugh as I set a steaming mug in front of her. She’s peering at the cooling pumpkin bread, so I swerve away from the stool I was about to sit on and grab a plate instead. “How do you not know?” I ask over my shoulder as I slice into one of the loaves.
“You know how in Friends nobody actually knew what Chandler did? They knew he had some fairly important job that required him to go into an office and wear a suit, but their knowledge ended there? Then in that trivia game when their apartment was on the line, Rachel blurted out that Chandler’s job was a ‘transponster’?”
I set the plate with the pumpkin loaf in front of her. “So Malcolm is a transponster?”
Gwen lets out a snorty little laugh that makes me grin. “I knew you’d get it. To be fair, Evan doesn’t know exactly what Malcolm does either. After all this time, we’re both too embarrassed to come right out and ask.”
“Gotcha. So what’s the problem? Malcolm and Sherée have been arguing a lot?”
“Yes and no. The real issue is Jasper has been getting on Malcolm’s nerves all day, and Evan and I have been playing referee. Jasper and Sherée have really bonded since she announced the pregnancy. He’s excited to be an uncle for the first time and keeps saying how he’d love to help since, as the oldest of five kids, he’s had a lot of experience.”
Gwen pauses to blow on her drink and take a careful sip. Her eyes slip closed in pleasure, and I can’t help another grin. Seeing people enjoy my creations—even something as simple as a cappuccino—never gets old.
“So Malcolm is jealous?”
“That’s probably part of it, but not because he thinks anything is going on between Sherée and Jasper. I think it’s a combination of him feeling like Jasper is encroaching on their lives, along with his own guilt. We were in my office shortly before we came here and Jasper announced he’s taking some time off work. He wants to be around when the baby comes to help out if needed.”
As Gwen has been talking, I’ve been slicing the rest of the loaves and preparing cinnamon butter. Gwen holds up her empty plate with a hopeful expression, so I slather cinnamon butter on another slice and give it to her. “Doesn’t Jasper manage a bank? Can he just take time off like that with no notice?”
“The short answer is yes. The bank was just taken over by someone new and I think Jasper’s worried about his future there. When he got back to our place this morning, he was on the phone for ages. He didn’t give many details except to tell us he’d saved up most of his holidays and had decided to use them now so he’d be free for anything baby- or wedding-related in the coming weeks.”
“Wow.” When Jasper apologized for his perceived rudeness yesterday, he mentioned receiving ‘distressing news’ about work. I wanted to ask him about it, but didn’t want to appear nosy. Then when he surprised me by being more open than expected, I had forgotten about it. “Where’s Jasper now?”
“We ran into Hugh a while ago and he and Jasper got talking about business. Hugh offered to give him a tour of the offices and answer any questions he had. Malcolm looked like he was about to blow a gasket after Jasper announced he was taking time off, so I suggested Jasper go with Hugh and meet us here later.”
“At least they’re all leaving tomorrow so you won’t have to play referee much longer,” I say. “And Jasper’s going to Hugh and Ivy’s for the night still, right?”
“True,” Gwen says slowly. “I hate that Malcolm and Sherée will miss out on all the pre-wedding fun, but with the way Malcolm and Jasper tend to butt heads, it’s probably for the best.”
I glance at her as I transfer the loaf slices onto a platter that will go in the bakery case out front. Gwen is picking at the last of her bread, her eyes focused intently on me. I narrow my eyes and point at her. “You have your scheming face on, Gwendolyn.”
Her mouth pops open. “I don’t scheme. How dare you.” When I narrow my eyes further, she sighs and drops the last morsel of bread to the plate, rubbing her hands together to brush off the crumbs. “Okay, fine. I was thinking how Jasper would benefit from having a sense of purpose, you know? Something to keep him occupied. Or maybe someone.”
Ahh, so she’s in matchmaker mode. Do I give off some sort of ‘I clearly need a man’ vibes I was heretofore unaware of?
Since Gwen was the one who originally told me about Jasper’s therapy and that Evan had gone with him a few times, I know I’m not breaking Jasper’s confidence by saying, “He mentioned this morning how his therapist thinks he should try to make friends or start dating. Maybe with some time off, he’ll venture out more to meet new people or pick up a hobby. There’s plenty to do in Toronto.”
“Mmhmm, mmhmm.” Gwen presses her lips together and bobs her head, her eyes twinkling. I can practically see the wheels turning in her brain: one singleton plus one singleton equals perfect matchmaking opportunity. It doesn’t help that I inadvertently told her I thought Jasper was cute before I knew he was her future brother-in-law. “Or maybe he’ll meet someone right here in Bellevue. Like, say, during the pre-wedding events we have planned. Say…someone with beautiful auburn hair, killer curves, and an unparalleled talent in the kitchen?”
“Maybe,” I say breezily, leaning my elbows on the counter across from her so we’re eye to eye. She leans in, brows lifting hopefully. “I think what would really make him happy is being useful. I’m sure he could be invaluable to you with the finishing touches for the wedding. Did you ever make your final decision about your bridal bouquet?”
The flash of humor in her eyes tells me she knows she’s been bested. With a little huff, she straightens and pops the last piece of pumpkin loaf into her mouth. “Fine, fine, I know when my matchmaking skills aren’t wanted.”
“Or needed,” I point out. Not that she’ll let that stop her from trying again in the future, I’m sure. “I’m happy with things the way they are right now with my focus being on the café and your wedding. I love you for caring about me, though.” I round the counter and wrap my arms around her. She holds on tight, the way she always does.
“Wanna come meet Malcolm and Sherée?” she asks after we release each other.
I follow Gwen out of the kitchen, pausing to check in with Marisol and add the sliced pumpkin loaf to the display case. Gwen is now sitting with the others, and she makes the introductions when I approach.
Malcolm’s stormy expression is replaced by a warm smile that transforms his whole face. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” he says, standing and reaching to shake my hand. “Gwen talks about you all the time.”
“I’m so glad we’re finally meeting too,” I tell him. His smile reminds me of Evan’s—easy, open, and kind. The physical resemblance between the three Perry men is obvious, and yet Jasper is so different from his brothers. Meeting Malcolm makes me even more curious about Jasper and what makes him tick.
I get an equally warm greeting from Sherée, who shakes my hand from across the table and then returns her hands to her round belly. Despite the tension and arguments Gwen mentioned, Sherée looks serene, with a beautiful, healthy glow about her.
“Congratulations on the baby. What an exciting time.”
“Exciting all around,” Sherée says. “A new baby, a new Perry.” She winks at Gwen, whose cheeks flush with happiness as she smiles.
I chat with them for a few minutes before excusing myself to get back to work. I add a picture of the new pumpkin loaf slices to Cravings’ Instagram feed and post a new daily promo in our stories before writing it on the staff bulletin board near the cash register so Marisol and the others will know.
Marisol’s soft chuckle announces her presence before I see her. She appears from the office, phone in hand, cheeks rosy from laughter.
“I was just on Twitter and saw a meme for how to insult someone in a way that sounds British,” she says. “You start with ‘you absolute’ and then add the last thing you ate.”
I think about it f
or a second and then snicker as I say, “You absolute pumpkin loaf.” Marisol knows I’m easily amused, and she feeds my need for word games, jokes, and puns whenever possible. “We should put that on one of the café’s chalkboards and then add it to our Insta stories. We could give a free cookie or something to the funniest one. Maybe take votes, get people engaged.” I spin around on my stool to look for my chalk, chuckling to myself as I mutter, “You absolute pumpkin loaf.” Instead of my chalk, I find Jasper standing on the other side of the counter, his dark eyes wide.
“I…can come back,” he says, sounding uncertain.
“No! No, I wasn’t…it was…” I consider telling him about the British insult joke, but I’m guessing Jasper’s the type whose funny bone is permanently out of joint. “That was directed at Marisol, not you,” I say, gesturing at Marisol, who has moved to my side and is eyeing Jasper curiously.
After introducing them, my gaze sweeps over Jasper as the pair exchange pleasantries. Somehow he looks even better than he did this morning. His cheeks have a hint of color, probably from walking around the Village with Hugh, and his formerly perfectly-coiffed hair is windblown, giving him a more casual look.
I tune back in as Marisol tells Jasper she’ll get him a cup of coffee.
“How was your tour with Hugh?” I ask.
“Very informative. Considering the magnitude of the Village, it’s impressive what a professional, streamlined operation Hugh and Ivy run. Hugh’s philanthropic work is quite admirable too.”
“They’re pretty much the definition of a power couple,” I say. “Plus they’re two of the kindest, most generous, and down-to-earth people I know.”
“Mm.” Jasper has never looked anything other than serious during our brief acquaintance, but he looks even more earnest than usual now, if possible. There’s a deep groove between his brows, and his eyes have taken on a far-off look. He appears to be thinking hard, but he also seems…lost?
