I’m here,says the first.
I’m sorry, says the next.
He squeezes it back.
Thank you.
We sit like that until the rain stops.
FORTY
I haven’t seen Randall since the debacle outside The Golden Palm, so I pay him a visit on my day off. Driving through his neighborhood makes my chest ache, especially when I pass by Landon’s house, which looks the same as ever. I try not to dwell on how much I miss it—well, mostly its occupant—because I have a lot to think about when it comes to Landon. I want to be there for him, but I need boundaries. I don’t know how to be in his life until he cuts ties with my sister. I don’t know if I should be.
Shaking off those thoughts, I pull up in front of Randall’s house. When I step out of the car, Snowball launches herself down the stairs and sprints across the lawn toward me, and I crouch down to give her more pets than she can handle. The little white furball hot on my heels, I head up the driveway to the old man sitting on his porch.
“Did you tell me you were coming, or am I slowly becoming senile?” Randall asks, setting his iPad on the couch beside him.
“I thought I’d stop by unannounced and surprise you,” I tell him with a smile. “It’s been a while, so I’m sure you have some electronic device in need of fixing.” I shake the Tupperware in my hand. “Also, I come bearing sugary gifts.”
Randall gets to his feet and takes the Tupperware out of my hands. “I knew I liked you for a reason,” he grunts. “I’ll go get some plates.”
When I first found out the truth about Landon and Mel, baking was the last thing I wanted to do. Sitting around and moping all day was more my speed. But once I talked to Landon in the car and he told me the truth, I felt…lighter. I was able to rid myself of the dark cloud hanging over my head, and baking was suddenly the only thing I had any interest in doing. I threw myself into it with fervor.
In the past few weeks, I’ve posted three new recipes on my account, I started researching the best way to build a website where I could take a reasonable number of orders, and I looked into the cost of designing my own merchandise. Finding my own place takes priority, though. I can’t keep turning Brit and Sienna’s kitchen into a one-woman bakery, no matter how many times they assure me it’s not a problem. Right now, I have a few possible apartments, but they’re further from the club than I’d like—though it might be worth the extra forty-minute drive just to have my own space again.
When Randall emerges from the house, I’m seated on the wicker couch, Snowball’s fluffy body curled up on the cushion beside me. He sets a plate of desserts in front of me, along with a large glass of sweet tea. “Your boy’s mowing in the back, by the way,” he says, gesturing behind him as he sits opposite me.
“Parker’s here?” I ask, perking up. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him as well. “Even better.”
“He’s a good kid. Does a great job despite the arm.”
“Randall,” I scold.
“What? It was a compliment!” I shake my head at him, but he ignores me, eyeing the plate. “Now, what offerings have you brought me?”
Sighing, I point to each dessert on the plate, identifying them from left to right. “Ginger spice brownies, peanut butter and jelly Linzer tarts, caramel bourbon nut cookies, and finally, Hawaiian coconut cheesecake bars.”
Randall reaches forward and grabs one of the ginger spice brownies. “My doctor says I need to lower my cholesterol,” he says, “but who cares.”
“You should probably listen to your doctor, Randall,” I say worriedly, but he waves me off, taking a bite of the brownie. He chews thoughtfully before giving an appreciative grunt, which is practically a rave review coming from him.
“Haven’t seen you on any runs, lately,” he notes, after finishing off the brownie. “Thought maybe you twisted an ankle, but they seem fine to me.”
“I’ve been running,” I say, and take a sip of the tea. “Just not in this neighborhood. I moved out of Landon’s, actually.”
Randall’s eyebrow quirks at this news. “Oh yeah? Where’d you move to?”
“My friends’ place, but it’s temporary. I’m kind of…homeless at the moment.”
I think back on the weeks since I left Landon’s. Though Brit and Sienna’s apartment is clean and nicely decorated, it definitely wasn’t made to house three people. Things are more than a little bit cramped.
“Pretty Boy did something, then?” he asks, reaching for a cookie.
“I can neither confirm nor deny Pretty Boy’s influence on my decision,” I mutter, grabbing a cookie of my own.
“So, he did do something then,” says Randall. “Knew it. It’s written all over your face.”
I glance up at him, raising my eyebrows. “What is?”
