“Ah. Well, if you’re a longtime listener, you know I believe in love. But I also believe that some things aren’t meant to be. You can’t force love when things are too broken to repair.”
“But how can soulmates never talk? They belong together!”
“Mmm.” I tapped my fingers against my desk, choosing my words carefully. “Are you sure you’re not a little in love with one of them yourself? Sometimes we project our desires onto other people’s relationships.”
M’s laugh was genuine and bright. “God, no. I’m not the crushing type. More of a lone wolf. I believe in happy endings for others. Call me a facilitator.”
“Facilitator? That sounds suspiciously like ‘meddler’, doesn’t it?”
“Fine. You got me,” she admitted without remorse. “But in my defense, I had a front-row seat to their love story. When we were teenagers, the businessman went to college in Boston, while the innkeeper went to school close to home. Every break, when they were reunited, it was like they had barely survived without each other, hadn’t been whole without each other.”
My heart cracked open a little for these two men, but I had to be practical. “I get it. But here’s my advice, M—and you’re probably not going to like it. You can’t get involved.”
“Ah...” M’s voice turned slightly mischievous. “It’s a little late for that advice. The meddling has already begun.”
I couldn’t hold back my laughter. “Oh my. What did you do?”
“Nothing dramatic. Mr. Boston is in town to help a family member.”
“M, please tell me you’re not the reason that person needs help.”
“Of course not! His sister is pregnant, and the doctor wants her on bed rest! The only thing I did was encourage her to call him, knowing he’d rush into town to help.”
“Right. Does the innkeeper know Boston is back in town?”
“Not exactly.” M sounded a little sheepish. “That’s why I called. I was hoping you could help me with a plan to bring them together.”
I shook my head, amused. “M, I appreciate your romantic heart, but these men are adults with complex histories and feelings that you, despite your close relationship, can’t fully understand.”
“I know.” She didn’t sound deterred. “But sometimes people need a push, don’t they? A chance to see what’s possible?”
“Sometimes. And sometimes that push sends them over a cliff they weren’t ready to jump from. I’m not going to enable your scheming, because I don’t want to make it worse.”
“That’s fair,” M said. “But you should see how they used to look at each other—like they were the only two people in the room. Like they were magnetized towards each other, destined to fall in love.”
“But they were never more than friends?”
“Neither admitted it was romantic, but we all saw it.”
Her wistful voice made me hope, against my better judgment, that her meddling might actually work out.
“Well, M from Vermont, I hope your romantic vision comes true. But remember, be careful what you try to fix; sometimes, fixing other people ends up breaking you.”
Chapter 1
Luke
I slammed through thecandy factory doors, breathing in deep gulps of the crisp Vermont air, desperate for something other than the scent of maple syrup. I’d been back in Maple Crossing for a few days, and I was already sick of the maple syrup sweetness of my family’s candy factory.
And even more sick of my moms and their flighty ways. This was why I moved to Boston. This was why I craved the stability of working for a big company, where there were processes and redundancies, timelines, and schedules. No one at my marketing firm had ever suggested that we could manifest a jar of honey if we just thought positively enough. At least they were letting me get out of the factory for a few hours to take care of the delivery run. Hopefully, I could manage a few weeks of this without going completely insane.
The purple Tapped Amber Confections delivery van was in the loading area, and a young Asian woman with four pencils coiled into her glossy black hair was loading a box into the back, her wide-legged jeans hugging her curvy ass. Not that I was staring at her ass.
Turning, she picked up a clipboard and wrote on it, then swiped her bangs out of her eyes, smearing a black line across her forehead with her Sharpie.
I cleared my throat to hide my laugh, and she looked up at me, a big smile on her face.
She wasn’t my usual type, but she was gorgeous enough that I decided not to tease her about the Sharpie line, and familiar enough that I wondered where I knew her from.
