17. Tess
SEVENTEEN
TESS
Sometimes you just need a spontaneous girls’ night. My friend, Lila, returned from her week-long hike this afternoon, so Wren and Hope wrangled her into an evening out to help her decompress. Get some real food in her after a week of trail mix and granola bars. But mostly, they want to hear all the juicy gossip about her new boyfriend.
Wren and I were both a little shocked when Helena Parrish, Lila and Hope’s mother, came in this afternoon to casually drop that bit of info. Actually, nothing about her gossip was casual—she grinned so wide you’d think she was the one with the new man.
Mom, incidentally, stayed mum about her own new man. Typical.
The four of us slide into a booth at Delish, and Amy passes out menus, smiling over our girls’ night like she has since we were teens.
She starts to leave us to consider our options—as though we don’t know exactly what we’re going to order—but stops next to me. “Is everything going all right over at the duplex? Ian’s not giving you a hard time, is he?”
I’d meant to at least check in with her and let her know August and I are enjoying the apartment—and befriending our recluse—but I haven’t found the time to stop by. And I really don’t want to discuss Ian with three sets of attentive ears here to latch onto everything I might say about him.
“My nephew’s been prickly lately, but if he’s extending that to you, I’ll talk to him.” Amy’s a sweetheart, but I have no doubt she would stand up for me with Ian if I asked.
A week ago, I might have answered differently, but now, I don’t need her running interference.
“He was a little prickly at the beginning, but we’re getting along now.” I refuse to think about the way I held his hand last night, or the way he watched me like I was more beautiful than the sunset. Nope. Not on my mind. “Thank you again for renting us the apartment.”
Amy waves off my thanks. “It’s our pleasure to have you there.”
The second she walks away, my friends lean closer to me like I’m a bug they’ve pinned in a display case, ready to catalogue everything about me.
“I feel like we need to hear more about your neighbor,” Hope says. Newly engaged, she’s probably eager to get the spotlight off her own love life. That, and Wren already made wild hints about me and Ian in front of both her and Lila.
“The guy with the dog?” Lila wants to know. I mentioned August’s new canine friend earlier when she asked me about the move. Just sort of left out Dutch’s owner.
“The hot guy with the dog.” Wren isn’t doing anything to make this easier on me.
“I just stopped thinking of him as a growly hermit two days ago.” And in that time, my crush has exploded like a supernova, but nobody needs to hear that.
Sure, they want to hear it. But I’m not sharing. This whole situation is too precarious to start telling my closest friends. They’ll get their hopes up and then who knows what might happen to dash them. I don’t want them to be disappointed later on.
Because it’s definitely their hopes I’m thinking about right now.
“Her exact words were ‘plundering Viking.’” Wren is way too smug about this.
“We’ve known each other for two weeks. Could we please not jump straight into the deep end here?”
And by we , I absolutely mean me .
“Okay, but he did come into the bakery the other day, and sparks were flying all over the place.”
This has Hope and Lila sporting identical grins. Maybe I should have skipped girls’ night. I can hear about Lila’s new boyfriend another time.
“Loads of people come into the bakery.” I know it’s going to be impossible to play this off as nothing, but I refuse to give up the ship this quickly. Historically, I’m not a blabber. The only issue with that is, usually I have very little interesting to blab.
Ian is plenty interesting.
“Yeah, but nobody else who looks at you like you’re the only thing he wants in the whole store.”
I breathe slowly, willing my face not to bloom into an incriminating shade of red. I haven’t had a chance to tell Wren about the conversation I had with Ian last night, and I don’t know if I will. If she knew we’re actually making strides toward real friendship, she’d add two plus two, come up with eight, and jump right to declaring that he’s in love with me.
That’s…a strangely sobering thought. This flirtation between us is fun and exciting, but I don’t even know that Ian wants a serious relationship. And more importantly—I don’t know if I do.
“Even if he does—and I’m not saying he does…” I take a grounding breath. “I haven’t been on a date since before August came along. I don’t know how to do any of this anymore. I don’t know what he expects or what I’m willing to give.”
I can’t do anything that would jeopardize August’s happiness or stability. According to all the articles I’ve ever read on dating as a single parent, I’m already doing this wrong. I’m not supposed to let August get to know Ian at the same time I am. Our relationships are supposed to be completely separate, and only later merge when Ian and I are on solid ground.
Yikes. A girls’ night was a terrible idea. I can’t dream up scenarios where we’re “on solid ground” some day. There’s no us . There’s only neighbors—more friendly than we were before, yes, but still just neighbors. It’s absurd to assign anything romantic to that.
I’ve never had a neighbor “ arr” at me and literally shiver my timbers before, but maybe some neighbors do.
“If he’s the right man for you, he’ll be understanding about all of that.” Lila smiles sweetly at me from across the booth. She’s had a crappy time of it this year, with a cheating ex who subsequently fired her from her job, but she’s still optimistic about love. Meanwhile, I’m optimistic about everything except love. “He’ll want you just as you are right now. And if he can’t be patient while you sort things out, then he’s not the guy. But someone else will be.”
Even if I’m still uncertain, I love that she has that kind of confidence for me.
I guess girls’ night wasn’t a total bust. We spent the rest of the evening giving Lila a hard time about her new man—mostly because when her mom came into the bakery, she raved about him being some kind of a Greek god, and it’s hard to let something like that go.
“I can’t wait to meet this guy at Hope’s engagement party,” Wren says in front of Delish when we’re saying goodnight. “Your mom really talked him up.”
“She might be even more smitten than I am.”
“She’s got love on the brain,” Hope says.
“Whose fault is that?” Lila returns.
We all point at Hope, the woman with the ring on her finger.
We say our goodbyes, and Wren and I walk around the block to where our cars are still parked behind the bakery.
“I’m not surprised Lila can go into the woods and come out with a gorgeous new boyfriend,” she says. “I wish I could meet a man who’s like a Greek god.”
“Which one?” a deep voice asks in the parking lot.
Wren shrieks, spinning around to face Shepherd, who’s standing near Get in Gear’s back door. It only takes her a second to compose herself, her fear blending seamlessly into anger.
“What is the matter with you? Don’t you know you’re not supposed to scare women in the dark like this?”
The sun hasn’t fully set yet, but that won’t stop Wren from getting in a jab at him.
“Wasn’t trying to scare you. Just asking which Greek god you’re hoping to meet. It makes a difference.”
She makes a tiny sound of irritation. “What are you talking about?”
“Ares is too hot-headed for you, that combo would never work. Apollo—he doesn’t know how to be faithful, I don’t recommend. Hades has a good job and loves his dog but may or may not be a kidnapper. And Zeus…you do you, but he’s a creep through and through. I’d advise against it.” Shepherd looks to the sky as though expecting to get zapped by a bolt of lightning.
“Someone’s read Percy Jackson ,” Wren says. Pretty sure she’s trying to be cutting, but it’s coming across as a teensy bit impressed.
Shepherd shrugs. “I like mythology.”
“Well…I was asking for a figurative Greek god, not a literal one.”
He nods and finishes locking up his store. “I suggest Hephaestus. He’s steady and hard-working. Peaceful and loyal. He’d be a good match for you.”
Wren just watches him, her mouth slightly open, clearly at a loss for how to take that.
Shepherd salutes us and crosses the parking lot to his truck. He climbs in, starts it up, and drives off into the night.
Wren’s still watching his taillights fade down the alley, her arms crossed over her chest. “Isn’t Hephaestus the one who’s married to Aphrodite?”
“Pretty sure.” And good with mechanical stuff, but I suspect we’re going to ignore that.
“He’s so weird.” She shakes off her interaction with Shepherd, turning back to me. “I forgot about all the cheating. I don’t want a Greek god, after all.”
They really don’t have the best relationship track record. “Just someone who looks like one.”
“Obviously.”
I lean against my wagon’s hatchback, not quite ready to head to the house. Mom was thrilled to have a movie night with August after we closed up shop. They’re probably still watching Cars and snuggling on the couch right now.
Wren takes a spot next to me, her arm against mine.
“I’m sorry I jumped the gun yesterday,” she says. “I shouldn’t have brought up putting your cakes on the menu with Mom until you were ready.”
“It’s okay. I pretty much knew that’s how she’d react.” I’m trying to forget the part where she seems to think my cakes could sink our business.
“We shouldn’t give up, though. Mom isn’t quick to make a decision, but I have to believe we can convince her. We got her to add your cupcakes to the case.”
After a year of discussion. Getting her to add full cakes could take another decade.
“She’s being careful and cautious.” Even if it hurts a little when it comes to my cakes, I get caution. That’s been my mantra my whole life. The one time I experimented with not playing it safe blew up in my face. I love the end result to the moon and back, but the journey was rough.
Wren nudges me with her shoulder. “There’s such a thing as being too careful. You can wait so long that you lose your opportunity.”
I say nothing. We’re not talking about specialty cakes anymore.
“You don’t want to miss out when you’ve got something good right there waiting for you.” She’s watching me like she’s trying to bore a hole into the side of my head.
“Stop staring. You’ve made your point.”
“If I had, you’d be in your neighbor’s arms right now.”
“That makes no sense.” Even if it sends an odd thrill right up my back.
“Just promise me you won’t shut down the possibility, okay?”
“You’re awfully invested in my theoretical love life.”
She laughs. “Yeah, because all I’ve got is sparring with Callahan.”
Her gaze flashes down the alley where he drove off a few minutes ago, and she swallows.
“My point is,” she says, dragging her attention back to me, “if you happen to find yourself in Ian’s arms, don’t waste the opportunity.”
“I promise.”
But only because that’s even less likely than Wren realizing that when Shepherd said she should date Hephaestus, he wasn’t really talking about the Greek God. He was talking about him .