Page 71 of The Likelihood Of You

It hit me then that I had never known true love until Jacob.

The time and energy I put into Hugo was never love; it was hope and desperation, that one day the boy who promised to look after me would fulfil that promise. I could see that now.

As the naive girl I was, I believed I wasn’t worthy of another love. I was lucky to get someone’s heart in the first place. Staying with Hugo would be the best decision because my perceptive mind told me it would take a lifetime to find someone else who would show the tiniest bit of interest in me. Someone who was willing to see the potential my dreams had.

I wish I could tell that girl to prepare herself for the blessings that were waiting for her after her heartbreak. It would be the wildflowers that bloomed after a rainstorm. The shells and pebbles left on the sandbank after a big wave. The days of pure sunshine after weeks and weeks of clouds.

It would be Jacob.

I took the calmest breath I’d ever taken.

“Hugo, listen to me carefully. You hurt me, whether you choose to believe what you did was a mistake or not. You lied to me, laughed at my dreams, and made me fall in love with a person who never existed. I dealt with a lot, being with you, your lifestyle that I couldn’t keep up with, your friends who mocked me, and you constantly reminding me that we were never the team you told me we’d be.

"I put up with it for years because I believed that you loved me, and that was all that mattered. I’m still dealing with the effects of your so-called love, to be honest with you. But I guess that love wore offpretty quickly for you, huh?” I caught my breath. “What I walked into broke my heart, Hugo. I thought my life was over. But the truth was you gave me the escape route I didn’t know I needed. So, I want to say thank you.”

“What?”

“Yeah, thank you for sleeping with Sydney. Thank you for showing me that your love didn’t mean anything anymore. Thank you for not calling, too; that was really helpful. Because of that, I’ve worked on myself to such a point where I know I’m too good for you now. Come to think of it, I always was.” He tried to speak, but I wasn’t going to let him so much as utter another word to me.

At that moment, I felt the devil possess my smile. "I cried you out a long time ago, arsehole; I suggest you go and do the same for me."

The line went dead before he could utter another word, and I’d never felt better about hanging up a phone call in my life. It was as if the spirit of Taylor Swift herself had entered my soul, and every breakup song she’d ever written was coursing threw my veins. Those ‘fuck you’ lyrics beating right along with my heart.

I hope I haunted his thoughts for the rest of his life.

Hugo was nothing to me now. He was less than that—something I’d never have to deal with again. Hanging up was like turning the final page of a book; that excited feeling you get when you know you’ve finished the story was rushing through me and sparking my nerve endings. I was free. Officially.

It wasn’t long after I’d put my phone back in my bag, reapplied some lip oil, blocked my ex-fiancé and traitor of a sister and people-watched from my seat when Jacob returned, with more than just a coffee for me.

“Mom just pulled this from the oven. It didn’t feel right not grabbing you a slice.” He placed my plate of hot, steamy apple pie in front of me, shortly followed by a coffee in the cutest teacup I’d ever seen.

I lifted my eyes to his and put no effort into hiding away the smile that was dancing on my lips. “Thank you.” That was all I could manage to say.

Luckily, Jacob had to go back to the counter to receive his pie and coffee, giving me a few sacred seconds to disguise the tears that were threatening to fall down my cheeks.

When he came back to the booth, we both dug into our pies. After a few bites, I looked down at my plate and noticed that the napkin the pie was sitting on had a sort of blue tint to it. I moved the pie to the side, pulled up the napkin and opened it, and tried not to choke on the apples in my mouth when I read what was written on it.

“What’s that?” Jacob asked, placing his fork on the table. I looked at him, the corner of my mouth edging towards the sky and my face gleaming with a million ‘HA’s’. I didn’t need to tell him what was written on that napkin; he could tell by the smugness and pure delight shining on my face.

“They gave you the recipe, didn’t they?”

I nodded and pulled the napkin to my heart.

If I needed more proof that my life was finally getting better, Julie and Fiona Emerson’s secret and magic apple pie recipe was certainly the final one.

Chapter twenty-six

Jacob

“Where are you taking me?” Florence asked, looking like a dusky blue angel in the front seat of my high school truck. “If you say it’s a surprise—”

“Two minutes and we’ll be there, trust me,” I said, moving my hand from the steering wheel to her hand that was resting on her thigh, squeezing it just enough to know it caused a shiver.

It was breeching golden hour when it started to feel like we needed some alone time today.

The opening went great; my Moms were happy with the turnout, most of the pastries had sold out by noon, and Florence was chatting away with the town. But after a while, I could tell she was getting overwhelmed by theattention.

She had been bombarded by every aunt and uncle of mine, my grandparents, and my Moms, who took time out of serving to talk about baking with her and clue her in about the ins and outs of running a bakery. Even my buddies from high school spent most of the afternoon asking her what British people call different things.

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