“Miles,” I start but am interrupted by my phone beeping. It’s a text from my mother.
Mom: No drinking too much tonight. We have a long day tomorrow. I told your sister curfew is up!
Seconds later, my phone beeps again.
Phoebe: Did you get lost in the bathroom? Mom says you’re not allowed to be baking hungover tomorrow. Time to go!
I dim my phone screen and set it on the table. “I have to go.”
“About that number?” Miles asks, leaning back in his chair.
“I’ll think about it.”
He smiles as if he’d expected that answer. “See you tomorrow then.”
“I told you I was baking with my mother all day.”
“I’ll see you at dinner.”
“You’ll what?”
“I’ll be at dinner. See you then.” He stands, tips his head in my direction, and leaves.
What the hell?
Chapter Four
MILES
Mariah had stared at me in disbelief when I told her the truth about my parents and then offered her the vacant building space.
Last night, my mother told me that she and the Jenkins are working on restoring their friendship. I was happy for them, but I didn’t consider it life-changing to me. Surely, Mariah had moved on. After seeing her at the coffee shop with no ring on her finger, I asked my mother about her. According to the gossip—my mother heard from a friend who heard from a friend of Phoebe’s—Mariah moved to California to attend culinary school. She hoped to start a bakery, but that hasn’t happened yet. Phoebe’s goal is to convince her to move home and find work here.
It’s so damn easy to score gossip around here.
What do people say when they hear my name?
That they never expected me to come home?
I never expected it either, but I’m glad I did. Fate is sending me countless reasons to stay in Blue Beech and settle down. My family is making amends with the people here. Phoebe is working on convincing Mariah to move home. I have enough money to live comfortably without working another day in my life, and this morning, I talked to an investor about buying shares of my company.
“What made you move home?” I ask Maliki after closing out my bar tab.
“My dad nearly lost the place, and my sister begged me to,” he replies.
Not the answer I hoped for.
“Do you regret it?”
“At first? Yes. Now? Nope.” There’s certainty in his tone, no bullshit.
“What changed?”
“I made a business I loved, I fell in love with a woman, and I realized small-town life was for me after all.”
His response takes me aback. Not what I’d expected from a man like him.
On the drive home, I decide to make my decision by Christmas. I made this trip because I was considering moving home, but now that I’m here, there’s more force behind that idea. I left to find a life outside this small town, and now, I want a life here. I think of the betrayal I felt in New York, how someone I trusted with my life shoved a knife in my back, and wonder if that’s how Mariah’s family felt. My jaw turns tight at the thought of them experiencing that hurt.
Chapter Five
MARIAH
“Anyone want to tell me why Miles Lancroft said he’d see me at dinner tonight?” I ask, shuffling into my mother’s kitchen.
“Oh, boy,” Phoebe says, her gaze shooting to my mother.
“What?” I ask, my eyes on my mother. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nelli and I are reconnecting,” my mom answers. “We invited them to dinner tonight, like old times.”
Every year on the evening before Christmas Eve, my parents throw a dinner for their friends. It started small but has become somewhat of a community dinner. So many people attend that they now host the party at the Town Hall building. People help out, so my parents aren’t the only ones responsible for food and decorations. My mother is always in charge of desserts. The day of, Phoebe and I always spend the day baking with her. I help while Phoebe lingers around the kitchen and taste-tests. I love baking with my mother. I learn so much and enjoy our quality time together.
Back then, I planned to take over Pastry Puffs after my mother retired. When her bakery closed, it devastated me. There went my future—my dream to follow in her footsteps.
This morning, I made a trip to the grocery store so my mother didn’t have to drive in the snow. As I unload the groceries, a swarm of nausea flutters in my stomach, and I focus my attention on my hands, careful not to show my emotions.
“You’re upset,” my mother says, always one to read me well.
I whip around to face her—unsure of how I’m feeling. “I’m just … confused, blindsided, hurt that I lost so much, and now everybody is moving on. The problem is, I can’t move on. I lost my relationship, years wasted, so that’s not something easily rekindled.”
“Is it forgiveness you’re having trouble accepting?”
It’s hurt … fear. For so long, I blamed my hatred and heartache on Miles and his parents. Now, as I thought about it last night, I’ve realized there isn’t anyone to blame but myself. I walked away from him. I could’ve snuck around, made it work, and not given up on us. I was eight months away from turning eighteen, and they couldn’t tell me what to do after that. Our relationship ending is my fault.
I brush my hand over my face. “What made you decide to invite them? To try to be friends again?”
“Your father ran into Chadwick at the store, and they started talking.”
“With their fists?” I raise a brow. My father had threatened to kick Chadwick’s ass on numerous occasions.
“No.” She gives me a judgmental look. “After being stuck in a line together, they talked. The Lancrofts feel bad about how everything went down. There was more to the story than we knew, but tensions were so high, no one was willing to hear the other out.”
I nod in agreement, wondering if my parents knew about the Lancrofts’s money problems.
My mother gently taps my hand. “If your father can forgive them, so can you, honey.”
I glance away and start mixing batter. Miles didn’t deserve our breakup. He did nothing while everyone around him caused pain. His parents. My parents. Me.
He was innocent in the situation. He’d begged me not to break up with him, begged me not to make a permanent decision based on a temporary issue, but I was young. Young and listening to my parents.
“He’ll be there,” Phoebe says, elbowing me. “I saw the way you looked at each other at the pub last night. There’s still something there. According to his sister, he doesn’t have a girlfriend. It might be time to give your love a second chance.”
“I agree with your sister,” my mother chimes in. “Sadly, the breakup happened.”
“You’re the one who told me to break up with him!”
She sighs, her face falling. “And I’m sorry about that.”
I nod, wiping a tear from my cheek. Turning away from them, I busy myself with mixing or gathering ingredients