Page 45 of Promise Me Sunshine

I double-glance up at him with wide eyes. Deferential Miles is really something to see.

“Let me guess,” she says. “You want a loaf of the ten-seed bread, the cinnamon pistachio scones, and a lemon poppy seed muffin to go.”

“Ohhhhh,” I say, looking through the display case at what she’s selecting. That’s the exact bread and scones on hand in Reese and Ainsley’s kitchen at all times. I guess because Miles provides them.

“You get these for Reese and Ainsley?”

He nods. “The muffin is just for me, though. I don’t share.”

Jericho’s mom laughs. “That’s my goal with my bakedgoods. To make some of them so good you just have to share them and to make otherssogood you can’t bear to share them.”

Miles smiles at her. “The lemon poppy seed muffins remind me of my mom,” he tells her. “They’re just like she used to make.”

“Is that right?” Her face has gone soft and sweet. She understands what he’s saying.

“Yeah. Except hers were terrible.”

This makes all of us laugh. “But she tried.” Miles shrugs and then turns to me. “What are you going to choose?”

My mouth waters looking at all the baked goods, wide and sturdy, golden brown and friendly. “Hmm.” I bend down and peruse. “To go healthy?” I point at a premade steel-cut oats cup. “Or indulgent?” I point at a Nutella croissant.

“We’ll take both,” Miles decides.

They pack up our order and Jericho comes around the counter to make sure to trade contact info with me.

We’re grinning and waving goodbye and leaving the bakery with two hot chocolates and a paper bag that smells like heaven.

“You gotta lotta tricks up your sleeve,” I say to Miles, back out on the sidewalk.

“Ithoughtyou’d enjoy that little surprise.”

“Let’s eat.” I reach for the bag.

“Hold on,” he says, swatting me away. “This trip wasn’t just so you could see Jericho again. I want you to pay attention to this. It’s important.”

He pulls out the oatmeal cup and the croissant and puts one in each of my hands.

“Something good for you.” He points at the oatmeal. “Something bad for you.” He points at the croissant. “And a change of scenery.” He points at the bakery.

“Huh?”

“It’s hard-won wisdom. A formula I figured out in my dark days. One I still need sometimes. When everything is going dark and you can’t understand why…when the grief catches up to you again…Or when your sister shouts at you and you feel like the world’s biggest tool. Just remember. Something good for you, something bad for you, and a change of scenery. That’s the winning formula.”

I look at the food in my hands and up at him. “Just like that? It’s magic?”

“No. Of course not. It doesn’t actually fix anything. But it buys you a little time.”

He takes the oatmeal back and shoves it into the bag.

I take a robust bite of croissant and cross my eyes with ecstasy. “Okay, I can see the wisdom here.”

We start to walk and he eats his muffin, bumping our shoulders together. He uses his thumb to get some Nutella off the corner of my mouth and grunts when it tastes as good to him as it did to me. “Let me get a bite of that.”

I offer him the croissant and he offers me the muffin and we eat each other’s desserts for half a block.

“Something good for me, something bad for me, and a change of scenery,” I muse.

“It really works. You gotta use it. Especially if you ever need me and I’m not there.”

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