Page 60 of Don't Call Me Sweetheart

“After a decade of not getting any,” Emma put in. She shook her head as though she still couldn’t quite believe it.

“Right,” Suzie said. “After a decade of not getting any, you get a wild hair and have a one-night stand. And now, after what, one date? Now he’s your boyfriend?” She leaned in. “And you didn’t tell us?”

“Well,” I said and then paused.

Because well, what, exactly?

Well, he’s just my practice boyfriend.

Or maybe, well, he’s my boyfriend, but we’re breaking up in two weeks.

Which…gah! Two weeks? How could it be over that soon? I was just getting the hang of this whole girlfriend thing. I had spent the last two weeks sneaking Max into the cramped spare moments between parenting responsibilities, school responsibilities, job responsibilities, and widow responsibilities. It hadn’t been easy, but I had to admit that there were perks.

Sex, for example.

But also, the adorable way he pushed his glasses up his nose and his dry sarcasm. The way his green eyes sparkled when he made a dorky joke I couldn’t help but laugh at. That was all pretty great, actually.

It was a delicate balance, holding the past and present so closely together. George’s commemoration was coming together nicely to Mom’s satisfaction, and I was slowly adjusting to the stares and whispers that followed me around Hart’s Ridge like George’s reawakened ghost. Some took my new dating life personally. Steven took it the hardest, but he wasn’t the only one who preferred me to stay stuck in the past.

I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t.

But I did.

And I couldn’t blame them. Not really. Because the past was where George was still alive. I understood that. I understood their need to keep me there, in the past, so that they could keep a little of George in the present.

I had made that sacrifice for a decade. Hell, it hadn’t even been hard. I had been happy to do it, for Jessica’s sake. It wasn’t like there were a whole lot of dating options in Hart’s Ridge anyway.

But things were different now. I was different. It wasn’t a sacrifice I could continue to make.

Max had changed that. This thing between us…it was real. Being temporary didn’t change that. I could tell my friends the truth, that it was just for practice and our time was almost up, but wouldn’t that be a cop-out? I didn’t want to lie, but I also didn’t want to trivialize our relationship. That would defeat the whole point of practice.

“Well?” Suzie prompted.

“Well, yeah. Max is my boyfriend,” I admitted. “But it’s still new. We’re just…getting to know each other. Having fun. It’s only been six weeks, so it’s not like we’re serious.”

I cleared my throat. That felt like the truth and a lie all rolled into one. But where was the lie? We weren’t serious. You couldn’t be serious about a relationship with an end date set in stone, could you?

“Okay, well, we want to get to know him too,” Emma said. “Ergo, Friday.”

I grabbed a bottle of my handmade window cleaner and a rag. Sweet Things didn’t have any customers at the moment—Emma had bought a few pounds to restock the welcome baskets at Holiday House, the bed-and-breakfast she ran with her dad, and Suzie had bought a bag of sweets to share with her family—but there were always chores to be done. There were very few things I loathed more than fingerprints and spots on the glass cases of candy or store windows.

“We’re doing a bonfire,” Suzie explained. “You remember how Sam tore up the old fence around the cow pasture last summer? Anything we couldn’t salvage, we’re burning, along with some other bits that have been hanging around. It should be good weather for it.”

“That sounds fun, actually.” I sprayed the front of the case with a generous amount of glass cleaner, then scrubbed over it with the rag. Autumn was my favorite season, and what better way to enjoy it than with a mug of apple cider, curled up in front of a fire?

“Yeah. So, bring Jessica, bring Max. Eli is coming too, and Luke.” Suzie paused, tilting her head so her red hair spilled over Carly, who grabbed a fistful of it. “And my crazy neighbor, Nora.”

I scrubbed at a fingerprint. “You have a new neighbor?”

“Yeah, she moved next door a month ago. You know the old Montgomery house?”

I nodded. The weathered Victorian sat on a two-acre lot adjacent to the Barnett farm—which technically made them next-door neighbors, although a good mile stretched between the two houses. The house had been vacant for at least five years. The land was too small for farming and more upkeep than most people wanted to take on.

“Anyway, she’s crazy,” Suzie continued. “I mean, I like her. She’s super sweet. But she’s a disaster. She invited me over last week. You know, just being neighborly. She wanted to show me the view from her rooftop because it goes all the way to Tennessee. We climbed up the ladder, had a glass of lemonade, took in the view. And the next thing we know, the ladder is gone. Come to find out, she had told Mr. Harris he could borrow it, so he did just that. But at the time, we were pretty surprised, let me tell you.”

“How did you get down?” I asked. “Did Sam rescue you?”

“No,” Suzie said. “We couldn’t call him since we left our phones on the porch swing. So do you know what that girl did?” She paused for dramatic effect.

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