Page 52 of The Sweet Spot

Your bringing Winnie to my house?

Brynlee

Yeah. I thought she might help with Kennedy. And before you say it, I’m well aware I’m using my dog to get your daughter to like me.

Shit. Does she like dogs?

My crazy girl.

Deacon

Yeah, red. She likes dogs. Do you need me to order anything for Winnie?

Brynlee

Nope. I’ve got everything I need. She’s a very portable puppy. Just don’t leave your shoes lying around. She’s teething.

Deacon

Whatever you say, wife.

Brynlee

See you soon.

BRYNLEE

When life gives you lemons, trade them for coffee beans.

Who the fuck drinks lemonade anyway?

—Brynlee’s Secret Thoughts

Idart through the rain into Sweet Temptations to meet my mother later that day, then thank whatever deity could possibly exist that she’s nowhere to be seen when I get there. Aunt Amelia is behind the bake case, stacking fresh chocolate-chip cookies, and the delicious scent of crème brûlée coffee draws me in like a wizard casting a spell.

If coffee is a love language, my translation is vanilla bean and burnt sugar.

Amelia smiles and hands me a cookie before she pours my coffee without bothering to ask what I want. She already knows. It hasn’t changed in years. “Here you go, Brynnie.”

“Thank you.” I take my first sip and let it work its magic.

“Looks like your mom just parked outside.”

“Don’t look so surprised, Aunt Amelia,” I mock that she’s at all surprised to see Mom getting out of her Maybach.

Why would she be?

The Kingston family phone tree might be as bad and fast as the internet.

Who needs social media when you’ve got my family?

You can find out anything you ever wanted to know about anyone in this family with one or two well-placed phone calls. I’m sure everyone knows I quit by now. And knowing my mom, she’s worked her flawless PR skills and spun it to make her look like the good guy.

Amelia laughs and wipes down the counter, then makes Mom’s coffee and plates two more cookies. “Be nice to your mom, Brynn. She means well.”

I roll my eyes like a sullen teenager and take our coffee and sweets over to the table in the farthest corner of the shop. We’re not getting privacy here, but since I refused to come to the house, this was as neutral of a spot as we were getting. I’m not even sure how many come-to-Jesus meetings we’ve all had here at Sweet Temptations.

Break up with a boy, meet your friends here to drown your sorrows in cupcakes.

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