Page 13 of Dear Ripley

“Fine,” they both sighed at the same time.

“Yes!” Joel cheered, turning to look at me. “Thanks for coming back.”

The rest of us laughed.

“Yes,” I told him, solemnly, “truly, the only reason I’m here is so you can have milkshakes for breakfast.”

“Well,” he said, looking towards the massive, neon clock, “it’s technically not even breakfast anymore. It’s more like brunch, and that’s an entirely respectable time for a milkshake.”

“Call it breakfast or brunch,” Mom said, shaking her head, “but having a milkshake with your first meal of the day is hardlyrespectable.”

“Hey, you’re the one who raised me,” Joel said, raising his hands and laughing raucously when our mom shot him a look.

Davinia smiled as she shook her head at his antics. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

Apparently, Mom still had her go-to order that was so familiar Davinia didn’t even need to check it was what she wanted. Part of me missed that. I was happy in my life, happy with my home and my city and my job. Even happier now I’d gotten rid of Gabe, but there was something about the feeling of community, of being known here that struck a chord deep inside me, that filled a space I hadn’t realized was aching to be filled.

But, just like that, Davinia walked away, and I realized I’d survived my first public run-in with someone I used to know, someone who’d watched mine and Ripley’s whole relationship play out. Davinia wasn’t simply one of the neighbors who wanted to talk about how much I’d grown. I hadn’t. It had been significantly more than eight years since I’d stopped growing, but it was sweet of them, nonetheless.

Davinia, though, she’d seen it all. We’d come in here as early friends. We’d been here as friends who were both secretly pining after the other. We’d come in here on dates, after getting engaged, on the morning of our wedding, and a million other times. She’d seen the entire tale of our tragic love affair playing out at her counter. And she’d spent eight years not having us back here.

I wondered whether Ripley avoided this place. There was nobody I could ask, no matter how curious I was. I thought I’d probably have avoided it, at least for a while. Moving away meant I didn’t have to keep seeing all the places we’d gone to together. If I’d been the one to stay, I feared I might have locked myself in the apartment and refused to leave until it all stopped hurting. Not that the apartment would have been much better.

Maybe Ripley didn’t avoid this place. Maybe that was why Davinia didn’t need to ask too many questions, perhaps she’d heard it all from Ripley and extrapolated me from that. Davinia had always told us we were two peas in a pod, two halves of the same whole. And we had been, once.

Now, all that was left was walking around the town I’d once loved, seeing all the places that hurt, and wondering how Ripley had managed to stay here. She was a stronger woman than I.

“Hello, Alicia,” Magnolia Sylvester said, sliding into the booth where Davinia had vacated it.

“Oh, hi, Mrs. Sylvester,” I replied, shaking off the memories and smiling.

Mrs. Sylvester was one of the biggest gossips in town—or, at least, she had been when I was still living here. I couldn’t imagine much had changed. She was nice enough, but I’d always tended to avoid her. There was nothing you could say around her that wasn’t going to make it around the whole town by sundown. I’d been wondering when I was going to run into her. Or, rather, when she was going to make it her business to run into me. I’d rather been hoping it wouldn’t be on my first day back, but here we were.

The determined gleam in her eye told me nothing about her had changed, either. She was here for gossip, for talk about me and Ripley and Harlow, and anything else she could pry from my grasp.

I shot my mom a look as I felt Joel adjust his position slightly, as though protecting me. Mrs. Sylvester wasn’t really someone I needed physical protection from, but I appreciated him a lot—so long as he didn’t start taking swings at old ladies for asking too many questions.

“So,” she said, leaning across the table towards me. Everything about her was the opposite of Davinia. “How’s being back? Where’s Harlow at? Joining us soon? I hear she’s pregnant. Probably the only thing big enough to bring you back to town, huh? But, now you’re here, have you run into Ripley? Planning to do so? Brought a new partner with you?”

I took a deep breath, working hard not to let it out as an exasperated sigh. Sure, some things probably changed around Jackson Point, but plenty of them stayed the same. Unfortunately.

Chapter 6

Ripley

Right when I was coming around on Thursday, it went and slapped me in the face.

With very little coaxing from Morgan, I’d eaten a whole pain au chocolat… followed by another whole pain au chocolat. And I didn’t regret it. It had been exactly what I needed and I basked in the freedom of being at Juliette’s bakery without having to look constantly over my shoulder. There was no way Alicia was coming back to Jackson Point and not going to Juliette’s. She loved their pastries just as much as the rest of us. But where wasn’t she going to go in town? Everything was either something nostalgic that she just had to revisit, or new and she had to check it out. At least she wouldn’t be showing up to Petal and Pebble. Nobody, even on a grand tour of everything new in town, would be wild enough to bring her to my place of business.

So, every single place was off the table except home and work, and I needed to enjoy Juliette’s while I could, even with Morgan promising that she’d still bring me pastries so I could enjoy them in secret, away from ex-wives with prying eyes.

And I did. It was a great break, a wonderful reset, and two amazing pastries. Right up until Morgan and I rounded the corner that brought my store into view and I caught a flash of chestnut brown hair that turned my insides to ice.

I froze, my stomach turning and my chest suddenly tight. The second I realized Morgan was still moving forward, I threw out a hand, wrapped my fingers around her wrist, and yanked her backwards into a bush.

She frowned at me, gesturing around us in confusion. “I know you paid, but I’m not really interested.”

I stared at her, the words sounding tinny in my fuzzy mind. “What?”

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