I stare at the message as my heart beats wild and freely. It hasn’t beat like that since I last saw him. Then I get a message from Cora.
lil’Chibi: OMG Tuxedo Mask is here, you need to come see him, Sailor Moon.
I can’t believe I let Cora call me Sailor Moon. Then I get a message from Darien.
Darien: Your boyfriend is here.
Every day Darien checks on me to see how I’m doing. We’ll chat about television shows, music, and whatever else comes to mind.
Last week, he told me that he’s been working on some music and wants me to listen to it, because every time he asks Alana or Cora for constructive criticism, they tell him that every song he writes is great. I heard him play the piano one time when I went over there for dinner and he’s gifted—Mozart gifted.
When he speaks about Gunner my little ears perk up. I’m hungry for any information about him. Even though I try to hide it, Darien calls me out on it. He keeps telling me to just put myself out of my misery and go back to him. He would say,“Gunner is right about you, you wear your emotions on your sleeves.”
He didn’t hit me up, and my heart breaks a little because I was hoping he would reach out to me after he returned from rehab. But then again, I can’t expect him to when I’m the one who broke things off. What I said to him about our relationship being an experiment—I didn’t mean it. He kept calling me every day before he went to rehab; I listened to every single one of his voicemails and especially about the part about me being his one and only. Maybe I should have answered his phone calls. I missed him these past three months. If he doesn’t reach out to me then I understand, he probably lost interest in me since he stopped calling. A lump forms in the back of my throat as I set my phone down on the counter. I watch as snow falls slowly from the sky and people walk back and forth in front of the shop. A couple strolls in, orders cookies shaped like snowflakes. Paris hits the register as she takes their money.
Once the couple leaves, she asks, “You’re waiting for that boy to come through the door, ain’t cha?”
I nod and finally admit what I’ve been thinking for so long. “Maybe I should have reached out to him while he was in rehab.”
“No. You needed to do what you did. Trust me.”
Over the last three months, I’ve been getting close to London and Paris. Our relationship is more personal than professional. They both are mother hens, trying to give me advice on life and men. But Paris is a lot easier to talk to than London. London is a little mean, but I don’t think she realizes that she is.
“Then why doesn’t it feel that way?” I want to bawl my eyes out.
“Because love is hard, Gia.” She exhales. “So hard. My Phillip was an alcoholic. But back then alcoholism was viewed as the norm, especially in the early sixties and seventies.” She pauses. “He died from cirrhosis of the liver at thirty-five. Had I let him go and made him realize he was destroying himself, he probably would be alive today. It isn’t easy to let someone go. It’s one of the most selfless acts a person can do. And if Gunner doesn’t come back to you, then you move on. You will find someone who deserves you.”
I try to let her words sink in, but I just feel so heartbroken. I spent the last three months in limbo, wondering if I did the right thing. Beating myself up about the decision I’ve made. London comes from the back with a clipboard in her hands.
“We have some news to discuss with you.” She pulls up a barstool blocking the doorway connected to the kitchen.
“We would like to sell you this place,” London says. My eyes grow wide in shock, and I stare at her like she told me I hit the lottery. “Paris and I always wanted to buy an RV and travel the country together.”
“But we never got the chance to because we both ended up having a family and now that our kids are grown and have their own families the time is perfect,” Paris says, squealing like a teenager.
“How much is it? I don’t have any money.” I’m still paying my student loans. Gunner wanted to pay it off before we broke up, but I told him it was my debt, and I can’t depend on him to bail me out of stuff.
“We have an investor, and he already paid.”
“What’s his name?” Surprise flickers through me as I cock an eyebrow.
“I can’t tell you. He wants to be anonymous and won’t have any power. It’s in the contract we drew up,” London says.
“No, I can’t take it.”
“Darling, don’t be stupid.”
“London, be nice.” Paris turns toward me. “I understand this is surreal to you, but the main reason why we hired you was because we wanted you to take this shop off our hands. We want to leave it to someone who has a heart for baking. When you bake, your eyes shine brighter than the stars, sweetie. So please, just take it.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll take it,” London shoots back without hesitation.
“Yes.” I clap my hands in excitement.
“Congratulations. You’re a business owner. Come to the office so we can sign some paperwork,” Paris commands.
* * *
