by London Casey
When we got up on the roof, I saw Buzzy near the edge of the building, hugging herself, crying.
I looked at Miss Crabapple and she nodded to me.
It meant to let her stay in place and I needed to go get Buzzy.
I touched Buzzy’s shoulder and she let out a scream.
“Buzzy,” I said. “It’s just me. What’s wrong?”
Buzzy turned and hugged me.
She all but collapsed into me.
I looked at Miss Crabapple and she was slowly starting to sit down.
My fingers caressed Buzzy’s soft hair. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”
Buzzy looked up at me. “Oliver said I’m fat.”
“He what?”
“What was that?” Miss Crabapple yelled.
“Come on,” I said. “Come sit down and talk.”
I took Buzzy by the hand, walked her to a chair and made her sit down.
She pulled the sleeves of her long shirt over her hands and wiped her eyes.
“Tell me this story,” Miss Crabapple said in an angry voice.
“Let her talk,” I said.
“I don’t know what to say,” Buzzy said. “I thought Oliver and I were getting close. You know? We were texting a lot. He asked to come over and I said I didn’t feel comfortable about it. Not with my mother being gone. And I just… I don’t know. I don’t think I want to be alone with a boy.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “That’s your decision to make.”
“I guess Oliver got mad,” Buzzy said. “He told everyone that I was too fat to hug. And he would never kiss me. Or do more. Because I was too… big…”
I saw her teeth chattering as she fought back the urge to cry.
“Oh, that little shit stain,” Miss Crabapple said. “You take me to his house right now and I’ll beat him with my cane. Emily, go get my cane. I swore I’d never walk with it, but that damn thing can smarten him up.”
I crouched before Buzzy.
I touched her shoulders. “You’re not going to like this… and it might be the worst thing to say…”
“What?” Buzzy asked.
“You are not fat,” I whispered. “You are not big. Too big. You are perfect the way you are. Some people are tall. Some are short. Some are naturally skinnier than others. Some are curvier than others. Every girl… woman… everyone has their own… shape…”
“Screw this,” Miss Crabapple groaned. “I’m a dying woman over here. I don’t have time to waste. Buzzy. You look at me. Right now.”
Buzzy turned her head. “I’m looking.”
“If a boy wants to say something like that, it means he’s the one who has the problem. Not you. And don’t you dare change who you are for someone else. Ever. Tell me you hear that.”
“I hear it,” Buzzy said.
“Now get my damn cane,” Miss Crabapple said.
“Let’s not,” I said.
“I’ll go to jail for you, Buzzy,” Miss Crabapple said.
Buzzy smiled. “Thanks.”
“We’re not beating up Oliver,” I said. “He’s the one who has to live with what he said. And you know what, Buzzy? He wants you to react. So don’t. Don’t give that slimeball a second of your time. Got it? You go to school tomorrow as you always do. You are perfect and you are beautiful. And listen to what Miss Crabapple said. Don’t ever change who you are for someone.”
“You wouldn’t change for that boy you liked?” Buzzy asked, referring to Liam.
“No,” I said. “Never.”
Then again, if I had to be honest with myself…
When it came to Liam all those years ago…
I would have done anything to get closer to him.
I didn’t sleep well, which meant my morning was as busy as ever.
Miss Crabapple didn’t look well the night before. She was tired, in pain, and mad about what happened with Buzzy. Buzzy said to me she was okay, but I knew better. She was thirteen and just had a boy she liked tell other people he felt she was fat.
What a little prick…
And then there was the Miranda thing hanging over my head.
My distraction was the bakery.
I got there on time and put myself to work.
The more I moved, the less I thought.
I helped Ember get the kitchen set up until she gently pushed me out of the way, fearing my baking skills would kill the business. Which they totally would.
Behind the counter, Lucy ran the register and I prepped the orders.
Time just kept moving along.
Right up until Lucy let out a psst sound and nodded to the front door.
Miranda came through and waved at me with a big smile on her face.
I took my apron off and met her halfway across the bakery.
“Hey!” Miranda yelled at me.
Then she hugged me.
“Morning,” I said. “Or… afternoon. I don’t even know what time it is right now.”
Miranda laughed. “Can we talk?”
“Sure.”
“Are we good for what I said…?”
“Your wedding?”
“Yeah.”
“Miranda…”
“Come on,” she said. “Don’t get all whatever on me.”
“Meaning?”
“I know what you’re thinking. You’re judging me.”
“Not judging,” I said. “It’s your wedding.”
“See, that’s the thing. I trust you. And I trust Liam. You two can get stuff done while I’m in Boston. It’s perfect. Look, I don’t want to do this.”
“So you want me to pick out the flowers for your wedding?” I asked.
“At least get ideas,” she said. “You’re kind of… like a buffer for me. Look at flowers. Try some food. Get me a shortlist of things. That’s what I need. I can’t stand this idea of making ten thousand decisions based on ten thousand things. It’s just not my style right now. I don’t have time for it.”
And I do? I’m just trying to keep this business from failing…
“What do you say?” Miranda asked. “I’m sorry I put you on the spot last night. I was way too excited. I shouldn’t have done that. I kind of pictured you and Liam jumping at it together. You’re old friends, you know? You can catch up again.”
“I mean, you’re okay with this?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “I just explained why. I just want to be excited for Boston and focus there. This is such a big deal for me. I feel like nobody cares.”
“I care,” I said. “I do. I’m happy for you. You want this and you’re getting it.”
“So you’ll help Liam?” Miranda asked.
“Sure,” I said. “I’d love to. Nothing to worry about.”
Miranda hugged me again.
Then she jumped back. “Gotta go. Have a few things to finish up and then I’m packing for my flight in the morning. Just get in touch with Liam whenever you want.”
She took out her phone and started to make a call.
I stood in the middle of the bakery and took a deep breath.
I always envisioned picking out my own wedding flowers.
But to do that, I needed someone to marry.
Chapter Thirteen
Liam
I felt the pretzel hit me right in the forehead.
Without hesitation, I grabbed the bowl in front of me and threw it at Jackson as hard as I could.
He swatted it away as Cole and Lincoln jumped back.
They both started to laugh as Jackson karate chopped pretzels out of the air.
“Hey,” Jackson said. “You can go after me, but not here…” He pointed to his face. “Or here…” He pointed between his legs.
“Why are you throwing food at me?” I asked.
“It’s bar pretzels,” Jackson said. “It’s hardly considered food. You’re sitting there like someone just told you your cat died.”
“I don’t even have a cat,” I said.
Jackson snapped his finger
s and pointed at me. “Exactly. No pussy. We need to fix that.”
“Give it up, man,” Cole said.
“He won’t,” I said.
“She’s gone,” Jackson said.
“She’s on a business trip,” I said.
“Wait, I’m lost,” Lincoln said.
“Miranda went to Boston,” I said. “For a conference and possibly some interviews.”
“Shit, are you leaving the city?” Cole asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I can’t picture it. But… who knows…”
“And we’re out tonight to have a little fun,” Jackson said. “Let’s throw some darts. Pick a fight. Get drunk. Come on…”
I looked at Cole and Lincoln.
They shrugged their shoulders.
I stood up and unbuttoned the top three buttons of my shirt.
I slammed my hand to the bar and whistled for the big boobed bartender wearing the low-cut top.
She looked at me. “Do you think I respond to whistles?”
“You will for mine, babe,” I said with a smile.
The bartender smiled back and walked toward me.
“You know, normally I would kick someone out of here if they talked like that to me.”
“But you won’t do that to us, right?” I asked.
“Look at him go,” Jackson said to Cole.
I side eyed Jackson.
I was engaged.
That didn’t mean I couldn’t have fun with a bartender for ten seconds.
It was a game.
I flirted.
She flirted back.
I got drinks.
She got paid.
The night moved on.
“So…” The bartender leaned against the bar. She spilled damn near almost all the way out of her top. “What are you having tonight?”
“Is that some ink I see?” Cole asked.
He flashed his million-dollar smile.
The bartender looked at Cole. “Maybe.”
“I think it’s only fair if I see some ink, I see it all,” Cole said.
“How about I show your friend and he can describe it?” she offered.
“Yes!” Jackson yelled.
The bartender looked at me again.
“Do you have any tattoos?” she asked me.
“Ones I’d rather not talk about,” I said.
“Regrettable ones?”
“Who spells the word fuck wrong?” I asked with a laugh. “Two k’s?”
“Really?”
“No,” I said. “What other tattoos do you have?”
“You’d love to see where,” she said. “I’m Stacy.”
“That’s Liam,” Jackson said.
“Your guy friends here are really excited about us talking. Newly single?”
“Not even close,” I said. “I’m engaged.”
“But she’s out of town,” Lincoln said.
The bartender laughed. “Oh, this looks like a dumpster fire if I ever saw one. Then again, the offer still stands. Nothing wrong with looking, is there?”
“Tell you what,” I said. “Keep the bar flowing with whiskey and beer and we’ll see where the night goes.”
I handed her my credit card and she stuck it into her bra.
I looked at Jackson and he was grinning ear to ear, nodding.
I still knew how to have fun.
I just needed to avoid trouble.
In my defense, the guy took the first swing.
That’s what I told myself as I tackled the guy onto a pool table.
He punched my ribs with some speed and force, but I held my own as I slammed the back of his head to the pool table.
Behind me, I heard the sound of Jackson, Cole, and Lincoln handling their business.
All over darts.
And tits.
These guys wanted to play for fun. Then the whiskey said to play for cash. Then more of the whiskey had me wanting to defend the honor of the bartender. Who, by the way, loved to flirt with anyone with a wallet.
Not that I blamed her one bit.
I rolled off the pool table, my hands clutched tight to the guy’s shirt.
I threw him against the wall, shattering a mirror with a beer logo above it.
The glass sprinkled like sharp raindrops.
I swung one punch, and that’s all I needed.
I hit the guy’s jaw and he hit the floor.
My heart said to keep swinging, but my head said to stop.
I had a career. A reputation. A life.
I couldn’t throw it away on some dumb fight.
The guy was wrong though.
He had no business sticking his hand down the bartender’s shirt.
Not once, but twice.
I didn’t go for that grabby bullshit.
I grabbed Cole’s shoulder and nodded. “We have to get out of here.”
“Running again?” Jackson asked. “This is fun.”
The four guys had backed off.
I looked back at the bartender. “Are we good here?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I could have just called the cops. Here’s your credit card back.”
“What about the tattoo show?” Jackson asked.
“Raincheck,” I said.
I grabbed my credit card off the bar then signed the slip, giving the bartender a large tip.
Then we bolted out of the dive bar onto the city sidewalk.
Car horns beeped around us as I started to jog, forcing the guys to catch up.
“What the hell are you doing now?” Jackson asked.
“I don’t know,” I said.
I kept jogging for a few blocks, then heard music.
When I stopped, I saw someone standing at what looked like a dark club, the door was open, music pouring out to the street.
I smiled.
I always had a thing for music.
I was always the punk kid with a skateboard and bad music.
“Are we going in?” Jackson asked. “What is this?”
“Nah, I’m good,” I said. “Just catching my breath.”
Inside the club, I saw a stage, lit up with deep purple lights, and someone on stage singing.
It was a woman.
And for a second I thought it was Emily.
I smiled again.
Emily loved to sing. And she had been good at it. She even wrote some songs on her own when we were younger.
Lincoln threw his arm around my neck. “Let’s keep it going. I see another bar up ahead.”
“Let’s go,” Cole said. “I’ll email Piper right now and tell her to cancel my eight o’clock meeting.”
“Piper, huh?” I asked. “That’s dangerous.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Cole said. “You guys are gross.”
“You’ve already thought about it,” I said.
“Liam is fired up tonight,” Jackson said. “I like this side of him.”
“Hey, maybe Miranda should just stay in Boston,” Lincoln said.
“Now that’s an idea!” I yelled and laughed.
Of course… I was only kidding…
I looked at my phone.
I sent a text to Emily when the guys weren’t looking.
Not that it mattered.
I just didn’t want them to see it. And I didn’t want to explain that I was going to be spending a lot of time with Emily planning my wedding to Miranda.
Even when I thought it, it sounded weird.
But at least it was Emily.
She was always fun to hang out with.
In fact, I was kind of looking forward to that more than anything else.
Moving from bar to bar with the guys had its moments, but what I really wanted to do was get home and get to sleep.
“I can’t believe we got into another fight,” Lincoln said to me as we stood outside another nameless bar.
“We need to watch ourselves,” I said. “We’re going to end up in serious trouble.”
“You’re a lawyer,” Lincoln said. “You
’ll get us out of it.”
I laughed. “I’m not that kind of lawyer, man.”
“I know. What’s up with your phone? You’re holding it tight like it’s your dick.”
“What’s going on with Liam’s dick?” Cole asked as he came outside.
“Where’s Jackson?” I asked.
“Taking a piss,” Cole said. “He’s talking to Callie. Not a care in the world that everyone can hear his drunk ass telling her all the dirty things he wants to do to her.”
“Good for them,” I said.
“What about you?” Cole asked. “Good for you? Are you and Miranda going to have a little phone sex?”
“Not a chance,” I said.
“That’s cold,” Lincoln said. “You should enjoy the distance a little.”
“Trust me, when all this stuff settles, it’ll be fine,” I said.
Cole grabbed my shoulder. “You don’t believe that, do you?”
Jackson came out of the bar. I was relieved to see him as the conversation ended right there.
It was almost two and I was done for the night.
We all split up. When I got home to the apartment, it was dark and quiet.
I walked to the bedroom and saw where Miranda would have been sleeping if she was home.
I looked at my phone.
The text to Emily was just sitting there.
No reply.
I was drunk.
Confused.
Alone.
I sat down on the couch.
I looked at Emily’s name.
I started to laugh.
Just thinking about all the crazy stuff we used to do together.
I put my head back and shut my eyes.
Hey, at least I knew I was going to have some fun, right?
Chapter Fourteen
Emily
It was family dinner night at Elise’s house. Which just meant I was like a third wheel to her little family. In exchange for a hot meal, I would take the pressure off her and Dan when it came to getting Henley into a bath and bed.
To Elise, that was worth more than ten pounds of gold.
Our entire family dynamic was a joke, but I was glad Elise and I managed to hold ourselves together and keep our relationship intact throughout everything.
I rang the doorbell to her house and when Dan answered, I opened a box full of treats from the bakery.
