Page 45 of You Cake My Breath Away

“Dad.” I sigh, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling bouncing around my chest.

“Pumpkin.” He reaches for my hand again before pulling it back. “Jessie, like your mother, willalwayshave a piece of your heart that willnever belong to anyone else.” He bends forward, making sure he has my full attention. “But, eventually you wake up one day and it’s not an immediate gut punch when you realize they aren’t there. One day it won’t hurt to simply draw a breath or to make the bed or even to smile. There might even be a day when you find the butterflies you thought were long dead in your stomach start to flap around again.”

Heat warms my cheeks, and I think about how spot on my dad is with his words—minus the making the bed part.

“I never thought it would happen for me. Your mom was my everything, and there’s not a single day that goes by where I don’t see her in the little things, the flowers she planted out front, the broken off knob on the stove,” he says, chuckling as he glances toward the stove before turning his attention back to me. “And the beautiful daughter she blessed me with.”

I press my tongue into my cheek, begging the tears to stay trapped behind my eyelids.

“I pray you find the happiness I know Jessie would want you to have, like your mom wanted for me.”

“Damn, Dad.” A stray tear sneaks out, sliding down my cheek. I wipe it away before it reaches my chin. “I did not expect this conversation tonight.”

He chortles. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t expect to be talking about this tonight either. But I’m glad I got the chance to see you. It’s been too long since I got some time with my girl.”

I open my mouth to mention that it was him that put distance between us but think better of it.

Tonight is a fresh start for both of us.

“Gloria wants to try some of your new desserts,” Dad says sheepishly.

“Oh, really?” I narrow my gaze, casually settling back into my chair.

“I know, I know,” he says, head hung. “I was stuck in the past, trying to keep everything the same way your mom and I did when we opened the restaurants. I was clinging to anything I could to keep a piece of her when all I needed to do was let go. Gloria told me I wasn’t just holding myself back from moving forward but also holding you back.”

Excitement rushes through my bloodstream, and I itch to get home and into the kitchen. After another cup of tea, I speed home, ready to prove my desserts are worth the hype.

Chapter twenty-three

Archer

Present

Cracked and moisture ridden, my old phone screen stares at me with a sharp look of disdain, clearly admonishing me for not only keeping it alive though it’s on its last leg, but for scrolling through text messages I’ve never been able to delete from six years ago. I should’ve gotten rid of the old Motorola Razr after college but reading Sebastian’s old messages helps me relax.

A timer dings, and I get up from the couch and head to the kitchen to check on my Dr Pepper pulled pork in the crockpot. The scents of garlic and paprika float into my nose, and the liquid smoke I used gives the pork a hint of smoky flavor. Once it’s shredded, I grab the BBQ sauce and a cold beer before sitting at the table with the old phone in my hand.

Between mouthfuls, I scroll down memory lane, reminding myself of all the stupid shenanigans me, Jessie, and Sebastian used to get into: TP’ing our teachers’ houses, the massive bubble fan we stuck inside the principal’s office, and even taking our parents’ car out for a joyride.

Thumbing through the phone, I land on a thread of messages from a number I haven’t seen in years. Opening it, I realize it’s conversations between me and Tilly. We stopped texting daily after she and Jessie got together, and not too long after that I deleted her contact from my old phone. It was too much of a temptation, and I figured I could trick my brain into forgetting it was her number.

Deidre’s comment from the other day bounces around my head like a spiky ball, digging into the soft tissue and poisoning my thoughts. I grit my teeth, wondering if that song was sent to the radio at that exact moment by Sebastian up in heaven, his version of a joke. He would’ve gotten a kick out of embarrassing me like that in front of a woman, but that wasn’t the emotion I felt. A mixture of shame, confusion, and uncertainty swelled in my stomach, but on the tails of that came a blip of hope.

I nearly choke on my pork when my scrolling produces a picture of Tilly covered in yellow goo from head to toe. Laughing, I download the picture and send it to the phone I use now so I can forward it to Tilly.

She didn’t come back to the shop after Deidre left, and as much as I want to delve into the potential reasons why, I know it wouldn’t be good for me to go down that path. We’re barely on friendly terrain now, I don’t want to mess it up by insinuating she’s feeling something other than apathy.

I try to quiet the frenetic thoughts in my head as my finger hovers over the send button. Slowly, the ice between Tilly and me has started to thaw, but I know she’s like an iceberg. On the surface she’s been calm, fun to work with, easygoing as usual, but I can see there is still a glacier of hurt beneath the still waters from when I pushed her away. Like a schoolyard crush, I purposefully ignored the girl I liked because I was too scared to man up and tell her my feelings, and I regret it.

Suck it up and do it, I coach myself as I stare down at my iPhone, hovering over Tilly’s name on the screen.

Me:In my humble opinion, the yellow elephant toothpaste was one of your best looks.

The swoosh of the sent message immediately brings a bead of sweat to my neck and I lay my phone down. After taking a few more bites I pickit up again, shoulders falling when there isn’t a new message or any hint she even received it. I’ve always hated when people talk about turning on the “read” feature to see when someone reads their messages, but the temptation to do it now is almost unbearable.

Stomach now satisfied, I clean the dishes. A ding steals my attention, and the clatter of the plate inside the sink rings loudly in the empty house. I wipe my soapy hands on my jeans without sparing a look to make sure the plate isn’t broken and pick up my phone.

Tilly:If I remember correctly, we ended up getting a B on that project because you and Jessie kept trying to put extra stuff in the solution.

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