Ugh. The question I’d hoped to avoid. They all know about the breakup. And tonight is clearlyLet’s Make Mabel Feel Better Night, which I genuinely appreciate. But I just want to move on.
I’ve had enough heartache for one year—losing my grandma, the Dax breakup, the loan rejections, the high of the firehouse, the thrill of the partnership, the wonder of falling. Then, another blow to the heart.
“I’m fine,” I say, shuffling the cards. “Honestly, it feels like a permission slip to focus on the bakery and just the bakery. I don’t need any distractions.”
The more I say it, the sooner I’ll believe it.
Trevyn coughs under his breath. “Liar.”
“What? It’s true.”
Skylar gives me a knowing look. “Mabel, I get that. But sometimes we tell ourselves what we want to be true.”
That hits harder than I expect. “Look, he made it clear he thought this was for the best,” I say, then recount the breakup one more time. “The whole‘made you fall for me’speech? Come on.”
“It’s kind of sweet,” Remy says. “He basically admitted he did everything he could to make you fall for him.”
Clementine nods. “Totally a thing. When a guy falls hard, he goes all out.”
“I mean, the man did buy you a bed,” Skylar points out.
And a sweater, a hair tie, a dress, and, oh yeah, an investment in a business he wasn’t ready to tackle yet.
“Fine, he did,” I admit. “It’s a very lovely bed.”
“So…did you tell him you fell for him too?” Skylar asks.
I hesitate, focusing on the cards—shuffle, shuffle, shuffle—until that’s the only sound in the bakery. Sheepishly, I mumble, “I said it made sense. That we should cool it.”
The collective groan is deafening.
“Seriously?” Trevyn asks, thumping my shoulder.
“He was dumping me!”
“Yes, butnot really,” Skylar says.
“Um, it was clear,” I fire back.
“I think he was being what’s known as amale idiot,” she says, “and making a bad choice. But sometimes they do it because they don’t know how you feel.”
“It was still a bad choice,” I grumble.
Remy lifts a finger. “So you admit this wholewoman against the worldthing isn’t what you actually want? You miss him.”
“I do,” I say quietly. “But it’s too hard to deal with everything else.” I flap a hand at the bakery.
Skylar shakes her head. “Hard disagree. We can have it all—if we let ourselves.”
I blow out a breath, turning that over.
Is she right? Could we? But that would mean telling him how I feel, and there didn’t seem to be any daylight for that.
“Maybe,” I say at last.
“Maybe is a start,” she says.
47
