Hand shaking, I pull up my banking app. The numbers staring back at me are depressingly small. I’ve been sending everything I can spare—and some I can’t—for months.
“Fab, I don’t have?—”
“Please, Winnie. Mom and Dad don’t know how bad it is. I’ve been smoothing things over for them, but I’m out of options. If we lose the restaurant—” His voice cracks.
I finish, “It’ll destroy them.”
My chest tightens. The Sorrentino family restaurant has been open for thirty-five years. It’s Mom and Dad’s entire identity. Their legacy. The place where I learned to make meatballs and fold napkins and smile at difficult customers.
If it closes, they won’t survive it.
“How much?” I ask, willing my voice steady.
The number he gives me makes my stomach drop.
“I’ll figure it out. Give me a few days.”
But I already know that coming up with more money isn’t possible. I’ll have to think of another solution.
After we hang up, I sit in my car in the municipal complexparking lot and try to remember how to breathe when it has always come so naturally.
I can’t save my familyandmyself.
I can’t be perfect at workandhelp them financially.
I can’t fix Grandma’s houseandhave a full-time job.
I can’t be falling for Pattonanddealing with this crisis.
The walls close in. My life is falling apart one sticky note at a time.
I’m late to work—unheardof for me—and can barely focus.
My phone must not have charged last night and died during my panic spiral, so I plug it in at my desk. When it turns on, there are three texts from Patton. My heart leaps and then crashes. How did I miss these? If it’s broken, I can’t afford a new one.
Patton: We should talk.
Patton: Where are you?
Patton: Call me when you get this.
He finally responded. Hours after I texted him. Hours after, I sat in my office wondering if the kiss was a mistake, if he regretted it, if I’d completely misread everything between us.
I look up at his office across the hall.
The chair sits empty.
He’s probably at the station or out on a call, living his straightforward, tidy life while mine implodes.
Once again, I touch my lips, recalling exactly how the kiss felt. The way his hands framed my face. The desperate,hungry sound he made. The way we fell asleep tangled together.
I was sure something had shifted between us, a page had turned, we were starting a new chapter. But what if I was wrong and we’re reading an entirely different book?
“Earth to Winnie!”
I startle, making my sticky notes flutter. Mindy stands in my doorway holding a box of doughnut holes.
All I want is a Crush Cake, or more accurately, a certain baking firefighter who makes them.
