I park in front of the bakery, eyeing the counter inside through the big front window. Luna stands behind it, talking with an old woman wearing a vibrant floral caftan. Even with her back turned toward me I know it’s Maeve Meadows, orNosy Maeveas most of us like to call her.
Sighing, I look at the café next door and see it bustling with patrons, thinking of all the evenings I spent across a worn booth from my father, eating one of June’s dinner specials as I avoided having any sort of meaningful conversation with the man in front of me. I remember feeling so trapped, so overwhelmed with a pressure I didn’t know how to get away from. If I could go back . . .
I shut the thought down and unbuckle my seat belt, pushing out the car door. The rain’s only a low drizzle now, but it’s still enough to ruin any chance of saving these shoes. I didn’t havethe heart to pull out my old boots from the back of my closet this morning—I don’t have the right clothes to wear them with and doubt I’d fit in any of my jeans from high school. I think pulling them on would be too harsh of a reminder of everything I’ve lost, of everything I might never have actually had to begin with.
There’s a rush of warm air that hits me when I open the door. A loud jangle sounds from a windchime attached to the frame, and both women turn around to face me. Luna’s eyes grow wide as a big smile spreads across her face. “Ava?” she asks, squinting. “Is that you?”
I smile back, the smell of burnt sugar and lemon wafting from the kitchen behind her. “Hi, Luna,” I say affectionately. “Please tell me you have a brownie back there for me?”
Luna claps her hands together before setting into motion, hurling around the counter to wrap her arms around me. I squeeze her back, the sweet smell of her hair a comfort I’d somehow forgotten about. “What are you doing home, sweet girl? And why did it take you so long to come see me—everyone’s been talking about you being back!”
We pull apart, but she keeps her hands on my shoulders. Her golden eyes swim with emotion, and it makes me pause. “I have some things to work through,” I say. “I’ve missed you and your baking so much. There’s nothing like it in Miami.”
“Of course not!” She clicks her tongue. “This bakery is one-of-a-kind, you know that.”
“I do,” I agree, laughing.
“Are you okay?” she asks, brow furrowing. “I thought we might never see you again, but then Rosie told me she heard from Georgia that you were at the Wild Coyote for Melody Bennett’s funeral. Is that why you’re back, baby? You come back for . . . him?”
“I—” I start, eyes jumping to Maeve, who watches us with her arms crossed over her chest. The old broad never liked me much,but she’s certainly listening in. And Luna’s just basically handed me the perfect opening to start some rumors about Kasey and me. “I guess I did. I heard about Melody and reached out to Kasey to see what I could do, and then one thing led to another, and . . . here I am.”
To Luna’s credit, she tries to hide her frown. “You and Kasey back together?”
I didn’t expect to feel so guilty about lying, but as I work up the courage to paint the story of our rekindling, I’m hit with all the flashbacks of my teenage years, sitting at one of these restored wooden tables crying to Luna over a plate of strawberry cheesecake or a chocolate raspberry tart. I think of how, for so long, she was the one person I trusted with everything, the person I told about every crush, every heartbreak.
I don’t know what I was thinking coming in here without a plan. I just . . . I’m not ready to go back to my father’s house yet, and with all the rain there’re only so many options. This bakery is one of the few places I ever felt like I could beme.
I look at Maeve again and force a smile. “We’re giving it another shot,” I explain. “I think, now that we’re older, we might have a real chance at getting things right.”
Luna’s eyes twinkle. “As long as you’re happy, baby. That’s all that matters.” Maeveharrumphsand grabs her to-go bag from the counter, excusing herself as she moves around us and out the door. Luna gives her a quick goodbye wave before grabbing my hand and pulling me to the counter. “Now, we have some catching up to do. I have all your favorites—you said you wanted a brownie?”
My stomach swoops with excitement. “Yes, with walnuts if you have them?”
“Of course I do!”
I reach for my wallet in my purse, but Luna balks. “This one’s on me, doll.”
“I insist,” I argue, accidentally pulling out a wad of cash when I’d meant to only grab a single twenty.
“Goodness gracious. Miami has been good to you, hasn’t it?”
I feel the burn in my cheeks. “I’m a lawyer now,” I say. “It pays well.”
“Good for you,” she says sincerely. “You deserve success, Ava. Now pick a table and get settled while I warm this up for you.”
I spendhours at the bakery with Luna.
Even as other customers come in, she’s so focused on me, doling out pastries and slices of cake without ever breaking from our conversation. Lots of people look back and forth between us as we talk, lingering longer than necessary as they pretend to grab napkins and wipe down perfectly clean tables.
A long time ago, it would have bothered me: the way they dawdle. The way they take their time to absorb as much as they can before their presence becomes impolite. But today I don’t care about any of it—I’m absorbed by how good it feels to catch up with Luna, the way she hangs on every word like my thoughts and feelings and experience outside this townmattersto her.
It’s the way she used to listen to me back when I felt like I didn’t have anyone else, when I felt suffocated and caged and under constant scrutiny by my only remaining parent. Luna never judged me or made me feel small for the messes I created—she was always there, willing to listen. Willing to offer advice and support about boys or school or my future.
I tell her about law school, about rooms filled with men who couldn’t be bothered to look my way unless it was to ask for my number. I show her pictures of my first apartment, the couch I thrifted and the cheap yellow rug that unraveled and spreadpieces of thread everywhere. I tell her about the firm where I eventually got a job, about how I kept my head down and workedsofucking hard for every scrap of success, how even after a handful of big wins in court the men in that office still wouldn’t spare me an ounce of recognition.
I tell her about eventually getting a seat at the table with the partners after I caught an error that saved one of their asses. How I thought all of the work would eventually help me earn a spot for my own name on the building next to theirs. How, not for the first time in my life, I let men paint me a pretty picture of my place in their world, and I took it in with eager hands.
I don’t tell her about Tobias or the real reason why I left Miami—it would demolish any chance Kasey and I have at pulling off a sincere engagement. But Iwantto. I want to tell her everything, to hear her say I didn’t deserve it, that everything will be all right. Instead, I tell her Kasey and I reconnected over the holidays. That I don’t think I ever stopped wondering what it would have been like if I’d never left.
