They’re all staring at me now, and my face burns with embarrassment. I’ve obviously revealed too much of the vulnerable underbelly I’ve spent my entire adult life—and a good portion of my childhood—protecting.
“Have you ever been joyful?” Piper asks softly.
That’s a pregnant-lady mic drop I’d rather ignore.
“I mean, you’re strong and the best kind of snarky.” Piper’s hand rests on her belly as she continues. “Also loyal like a pit bull.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“She’s right.” Molly’s voice is so gentle that it just about brings tears to my eyes. “You’re fierce, Avs. You’d burn down the world for any of us. But I don’t know that I’ve ever seen you truly happy. You deserve all the joy your strong arms can hold.”
The emotion clogging my throat makes it hard to swallow, letalone respond. They’re right, and it sucks that they can see the truth so clearly when I’ve spent years pretending otherwise.
Sloane wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Finding your joy is the perfect bucket list challenge.”
“Wait.” I hold up a hand. “I didn’t mean?—”
“Too late,” Iris chirps.
“You can’t just?—”
“Fuck that.” Taylor’s grin is wide and unapologetic, and I find myself returning it even as I shake my head. “It’s another unanimous decision.”
“I don’t even know what joy would look like for me.” The admission chafes against my pride on the way out. “I’ve never thought about it.”
“Well, your cinnamon rolls have brought joy to me and half the town,” Sloane says. “I’ve been giving them away to everyone who walks into the bookstore, and people light up. You have joy inside you, Avs. You just need to figure out what will give you access to it on the regular.”
“Is this like a Dorothy and Glinda situation?” I demand, my defensive humor kicking in. “The answer has been inside me all along? I hate to break it to you, but I’m not that deep.”
“You might surprise yourself,” Iris says with a look that nearly makes me squirm.
“I doubt it.”
“That’s the point of the challenge.” Sadie’s smile is encouraging in a way that makes me want to simultaneously hug her and run away. “To surprise yourself.”
I heave an overdramatic sigh. These women aren’t going to let this go, and honestly, part of me doesn’t want them to. Part of me is desperately curious about what joy might look like if I actually let myself pursue it.
“Fine.” I blow out a breath. “But when I inevitably fail, I’m blaming all of you.”
“Deal.” Molly raises her cookie like a champagne flute. “To Avah finding her joy.”
“To Avah,” they echo, exuding a warmth that feels like the comfort of cozy socks on a snowy day.
I untie the apron and try to remember the last time I felt anything close to joy. The memory surfaces before I can stop it. Two weeks ago, in warm water with sunlight filtering through the surface in shifting columns. My hand reached for Jeremy’s without thinking, and his fingers closed around mine as we watched a nurse shark glide beneath us.
Oh, hell, no.
I shove the memory down hard enough that my stomach clenches. My joy has nothing to do with Jeremy Winslow or any man. I’m certain of that. Whatever I felt in that underwater moment was adrenaline and the temporary high of escape, nothing more.
Piper reaches for another cookie, and I watch her balance it on her belly like a small shelf. “You should sell them.”
“Baking is a hobby, not a viable career for someone like me.”
“I don’t know.” Sloane plays with the ends of her dark bob. The drug trial she’s participating in has left her tired, but hasn’t meant losing her hair again, which I know she’s grateful for. “Winnie at The Sugar Shack was complaining about how much your free baked goods have hurt her business. Maybe there’s something there.”
“You do get a certain look on your face when you bake,” Molly adds. “Like nothing else exists.”
“It’s called concentration.”
