Page 10 of Recipe for Rivals

“No.” I left the parking lot and walked along the side of the road. It butted up against the backside of the buildings on Main Street, leading directly to the back door of the diner and the stairs leading up to our apartment. Houses lined the opposite side of the street, with wide yards separated by chain link fences. “I just took the kids in for their first day of school. Everyone seems great. Alice’s teacher is like a nice old grandma, which is perfect for our little girl.”

He was silent. I heard what I thought was him powering off a treadmill. “You take them out of one of the best schools in Manhattan, drop them in the middle of nowhere, and I’m supposed to be glad their new teachers are nice? Honestly, Nova, I don’t know what you want from me.”

“Nothing.” My hand clenched into a fist, my stomach dropping. “I figured you’d appreciate the update, but I can see it’s not a good time.”

He gave a long-suffering sigh. “Not really, no.”

“Goodbye, Carter.”

“Wait.”

I was tempted to pretend I didn’t hear him and hang up anyway, but I waited a beat too long to make it believable. “What?”

“Will you have the kids FaceTime me after school?”

“Sure.”

“Great. Bye, Nova.”

He hung up before I could say any more.

It took a tremendous feat of self-control to refrain from chucking my phone against the cold concrete. That would only hurt me. I didn’t have the money to replace it.

I was still grumbling inwardly about the conversation when I let myself into the diner. Why did I even bother? He didn’t care, not really, or he would’ve overnighted Alice’s birth certificate immediately instead of waiting days to do it. The man had a secretary. He hadn’t had to do it himself. Anything that helped him feel better about abandoning his family was fair game, I guessed.

The kitchen was empty except for Dal manning the stove, his salt and pepper buzzcut tucked under a hairnet, and Lacey leaning against the counter sipping a cup of coffee.

“Good morning,” I said to them. “Is Gigi in?”

Lacey gave me a sympathetic look. She was half my age—or somewhere around there. I was thirty-one, and nothing teens said these days made any sense to me. This girl, freshly out of high school, was a whole different class, making her pity all the more painful.

I’d reached that point. I was aged.

“She’s brewing coffee,” Lacey said. “Want me to send her over once you’re dressed?”

I glanced down at my clothes. Skinny jeans—I’d thought to change out of my baggy sweatpants before taking the kids toschool after Ben had given them a wary once-over—and an NYU crew neck I’d had longer than I’ve known Carter. My hair was in a messy bun, already falling to the side. No wonder the elementary school staff was extra nice to me. I looked like I needed charity.

My pride reared its messy head. “I’ll go speak to her now, but thanks, Lacey.”

She raised her Gen Z eyebrows at me. Why did every young girl have incredible eyebrows these days? Be a kid. You’ll be plucking for the rest of your life.

I pushed the door open, letting myself into the main dining room and straight to Gigi’s side. Her familiar helmet of white hair and rosy smile soothed me at once.

She peeked at me before returning her attention to fiddling with the coffee maker. “Good morning, honey. Are the kids off all right?”

“Got them settled in. It seems like a nice school.”

Gigi’s eyebrows went up.

“Okay, notnice facilities, but the people are.”

“They are,” she agreed, though she sounded distracted. “Stupid machine’s busted again.”

“Can I look at it? Carter had a fancy espresso machine that was always giving us grief. I might be able to do something with it.”

“I want you in the kitchen. Dal plans to show you how to do the chicken today.” She hit something and coffee started pouring into the pot. “Success. I better take this. I have a thirsty table over there.”

I glanced in the direction where she’d gestured and my eyes landed on Dusty. I couldn’t help but look at his arms, the width of them a product—no doubt—of free time in the firehouse gym. All firehouses had gyms, right? Because firefighters were notorious for using their time off to lift weights and build that people-carrying muscle so they could do their job in emergencies.All I could really see when I looked at his biceps, though, was the jar of jam that evaded me this morning.

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