I sit on the closest table, pulling her to stand in front of me.
“Are you?”
She nods slowly.
“Yes.”
I watch her for just a moment. The feeling that she doesn’t want me to see any form of weakness hits me again.
I have to take her word for it.
“All right, let’s do this,” I say.
“Okay.” She smiles and steps back so that I can stand.
“And, Books?”
“Yeah?” She looks over her shoulder.
“Thanks for deleting the app.”
Her smile is genuine as she shrugs.
“I should have listened to you from the start.”
She doesn’t leave me any room to reply before she’s out the door.
I follow behind her only to come to an abrupt stop, because everyone—and I mean everyone— is staring at us.
“What happened now?” I ask, leaning down to whisper thequestion in Brooke’s ear. One would think that the idea of her and I as friends would be old news by now.
“I don’t know, but I have a feeling that people are stunned we are still hanging out.”
“Well, joke’s on them, because you’re stuck with me now,” I tell her. “You real-friended me a little too hard.”
Brooke's laugh is light and music to my ears.
“I’m okay with being stuck with you.”
“Good. Now, let’s start walking so that people can stop looking at us.”
“You got it.”
The next hour goes by in a blur. Everyone wants to talk to Brooke, and because of that, they talk to me. My conversations are much shorter, and as it turns out, I’m not a very good small-town local. Honestly, Brooke sort of set that bar a little too high for the rest of us. She knows who just had a birthday, who is about to have one, whose kids play sports and whose kids are in what grade. She knows dating gossip, and she even knows that Mrs. Hanson stopped eating chocolate three months ago because her grandson hates it. Like … who takes time out of their day to know all these things about another person? Brooke. That's who.
A part of me was tempted to ask these locals to tell me a small fact about Brooke, but once they were done talking with her about themselves, they left.
Which tells me one thing: Brooke is just as selfless as I thought, and while it’s a great quality to have, she should learn that she is just as important as all these other people.
“Let’s take a break,” I say and look at Daisy. “Think you can handle this without her for a bit?
“In my sleep.” Daisy grins and shoves us away.
“But it’s my bakery,” Brooke argues, turning away. I slink an arm around her middle and pull her back.
“And it’s going to be fine without you for fifteen minutes.”
“But …”
