Page 34 of Fixing Up My Love Life

Jack glances at me and raises a brow. “Kid, you crack me up.”

Ellen pauses and tilts her head. “I don’t know what that is.” I love how grown up she sounds at times in her tiny voice. But Ellen is a bit advanced for her age.

“It means you're funny,” he says, ruffling her hair gently.

She beams, satisfied, then skips off again, clearly planning her next grooming session.

My chest tightens. Ellen’s always been slow to warm up to new people, especially after the move. But here she is, trusting Jack with her doll brush and calling his beard fuzzy like it’s the highest compliment. Part of me melts, and part of me panics. Because if she’s falling for him, and he walks away again, it won’t just be my heart that breaks.

Jack appears beside me, all sun-kissed forearms and that signature amused expression, holding a plate stacked high with burgers. “You know, when you said ‘family BBQ,’ I didn’t realize it meant full-scale survival training.”

I glance at the scene—shrieking children, rogue sparklers, and Lila now trying to convince Kira thatmarshmallows totally count as a salad if you add fruit. “Welcome to my circus. Don’t feed the animals.”

"Glad to be here," he says, and his voice dips low enough to make me forget about ketchup and buns for half a second.

A sleek sedan pulls into the short paved driveway. I wipe my hands on a towel as Anabelle steps out in a fluttery red dress that makes her look like a walking bridal magazine ad—blonde highlights catching the sunlight, her engagement ring sparkling even from here.

Her son, Nolan, races toward the cupcakes. Lucas follows behind, handsome and slightly tense, his eyes scanning the yard like he’s taking in every detail of the renovations. His gaze lingers on the fresh paint, the new porch railing, and the string lights I hung up with Mads yesterday.

“Looks different,” he mutters, stepping up beside me.

“Good different or bad different?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer right away. Just crosses his arms and watches the porch lights flicker against the new paint. “Doesn’t feel the same.”

I nod, understanding more than he probably wants me to. “Yeah. It’s strange seeing it all updated. But itneeded it. We’re not painting over the memories—just giving them a better frame.”

Lucas grunts in that way he does when he’s not ready to unpack whatever he’s feeling. Typical Lucas. He’s never been the type to hand you his thoughts on a silver platter. More like you have to pry them out with a crowbar. He reminds me of the grumpy heroes we read about in book club.

His gaze shifts past me. Of course, he zeroes in on Jack.

“Nice setup,” Lucas says, offering me a one-armed hug. His tone is clipped, but I know what he means. Not the decorations or the food—he’s talking about Jack. About the way Jack’s inserted himself into the center of it all like he belongs here. He doesn’t take his focus off Jack, and the air tightens.

Jack gives a half wave. “Burgers are almost ready.”

A shriek echoes from the dock. “Look what I found!” Ellen’s voice carries like a megaphone. She’s holding something above her head like she’s just discovered a new species.

I rush toward her, expecting a jellyfish or, knowing her luck, a piece of trash she thinks is a treasure. But no. It’s a crab.

A very alive, very grumpy-looking crab. With one claw.

“He’s waving!” Ellen announces proudly.

“More like plotting,” Caroline mutters, staying a safe distance away.

Jack and Brett walk over just as Ellen sets the crab in an old plastic bucket.

“Maybe he’s retired. Seen some stuff. Lost a claw in the crustacean wars,” Brett says.

“We should name him,” Ellen declares.

“How about Lucky?” Nolan suggests.

“He’s clearly not lucky.” Lila snorts. “He’s literally missing an arm.”

“Snappy,” Kira says. “Because he looks like he’s about to lose it.”

Everyone agrees. Snappy it is.

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