Page 77 of Friends Don't Kiss

But he did. He always used to. And he wasn’t celibate…

What does he mean? I reread his message and see how right he is. What girlfriend would be okay with him hanging out with me? But then why did he…? All these times, when I’d bring him cupcakes for whoever he was seeing. When he’d drop a name, or a place they’d been. Was this all nothing to him?

Make no mistake

You always came first

But now I want it all with you

My fingers are too weak to type anything back. I read his last lines over and over, and the more I do, the more my stomach feels queasy—but in a good way. I end up clutching my phone, wishing it was Colton, wishing I knew what to answer to that.

Make no mistake

You always came first

But now I want it all with you

See you Monday at ten

…

Frustrated that I he won’t see menow, I turn to the app. Maybe there I can ask him to hang out with me tonight. Maybe that’s what he wants. A role play of sorts.

But when I bring it up, Nigel’s profile has disappeared. Colton is no longer on the dating app.

He just wants to be with me, and that’s all that matters.

I hit the trash can button at the bottom of my profile.

twenty-eight

Kiara

It’snowMondayandwe’re driving in central Vermont through a maze of backroads. The Northeast Kingdom, where we live, is rugged and strikingly beautiful. Here, the landscape could serve as a model for the naïve prints found in nurseries: it’s absolutely adorable.

The hills are lower, softer. Snow-covered pastures are lined with deep-green woods and the occasional split-rail fence. Dirt driveways draw straight lines from our two-lane road to white farmhouses and red barns.

Colton makes a turn onto a gravel road, and I barely have time to catch the name on the sign posted at the entrance in simple gold cursive against a white backdrop.

Is he for real? It can’t be. My pulse accelerates and my eyes widen.

“Are you… are we… are you taking me to…Sweet Grove Bakehouse?” I ask in a strangled voice. As the words form in my mouth, the driveway curves and the familiar shape of the house featured on the logo of the iconic pastry school emerges against a backdrop of evergreens.

I’m more excited than the proverbial kid in a candy store. I want to shriek my excitement but instead ask in a whisper, “How did you manage to get us in?”

Sweet Grove Bakehouse—SGB—is the refuge of iconic pastry chef Annabel Plum. She left the craziness of working for the best restaurants on the planet to run a very profitable online channel and occasional in-person teaching. She writes beautiful pastry books with pictures from the best photographers in the world that hit the bestseller lists every time. She refuses to go on television. Or to bake for restaurants—or anyone.

As far as I’m concerned, she’s the most famous hermit in the world. Her semi-private courses sell for thousands of dollars within minutes of being posted on her website.

So, yeah. My question for Colton stands as it goes unanswered, and we pull to a stop. He rounds the car, opens my door, and extends his hand to help me out.

My legs are jelly. “Colt, what are we doing here? We can’t possibly…” I don’t want to be rude, but a session at SGB is too expensive. Colton doesn’t need to do this for me to make me understand how much he cares about me.

Annabel Plum herself appears on her covered porch. I’d recognize her face anywhere. She’s wearing her signature chef jacket and, on her head, the pink bandana she adopted when she left “the life” to tackle baking in her own way. “Colton Harper! You made it!” she exclaims. “Where is she? Come on in! It’s cold!”

Her smile is infectious. She’s warm and welcoming and my initial shyness at meeting one of the legends in my industry dissipates to leave intense curiosity, excitement, and a bit of overwhelm.

All of a sudden a slight panic gets a hold of me, fighting with the elation of being here. I wish I’d known we were coming. I could have mentally prepared.

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