Chapter 1 #2
“Ugh. How am I this much of a mess when you’re so put together three months after giving birth?”
You’d never know Rora had a newborn. She’s always had a seemingly effortlessly together vibe, and that hasn’t changed since becoming a mom.
She’s as gorgeous as ever, looks perfectly rested, her green eyes bright and alert.
I know it’s probably not as it seems—raising a whole human is no easy feat, and I have no doubt her world shifted on its axis the second she got the positive test—but she’s doing an amazing job.
They both are—my uncle Henry’s always wanted to be a dad, and he and Rora really are the perfect combination.
“Seriously, how are you both managing so well with everything?” I don’t love how exhausted I sound. I squeeze Sunny a little tighter, breathing in her perfect, soft baby scent.
“We’re not. Henry wakes up every hour through the night just to check that Sunny hasn’t magically disappeared, I cry multiple times a day, and I go through a can of dry shampoo every week,” Rora replies matter-of-factly, and I widen my eyes over the top of Sunny’s head.
“But you seem so okay.”
She shrugs. “I promise you don’t want details of what we’re doing for stress relief. But on that note, when was the last time you hooked up with someone?”
Jesus. Rora is nothing if not blunt—and correct. I don’t want details.
“This feels like a conversation I don’t want to be here for.” My uncle Henry stands and reaches for Sunny, but I hold her close to my chest.
“It’s girl talk. Sunny can stay.”
He holds up his hands. “Noted. Did you eat dinner?”
“I’m fine,” I answer immediately. I was lucky to make time for breakfast this morning.
“That’s not a yes. I’m making food,” he says, heading into the kitchen and ignoring my protests. God knows they have enough on their plate without worrying about me.
Rora nudges me with her foot. “Let him. He likes to fuss. Now talk. What’s going on with you?”
I groan and lean back against the arm of the couch. Sunny nestles her head against my shoulder, her eyes drooping. She’s so fucking cute.
“I’m just worn out.” I’m underselling it, but I don’t know how to describe the bone-deep burnout.
“I’m working like a hundred hours a week, and I haven’t taken time off in ages.
And to answer your question: fuck knows when I last got laid.
I haven’t had time to go to Jackson in months.
” I’m not against meeting people in Wintermore, but this is a small town, and the number of queer women—let alone single queer women—is slim.
Sure, tourists come and go, but it’s not like I’m hanging out at either of the local bars. How would I meet someone?
“Maybe it’s time to hire a couple new people for the bakery,” Rora suggests, and I know she’s right, but there are a finite number of people with experience in Wintermore.
Besides, the thought of handing over control to anyone makes me itchy.
I’m running out of other options, though.
Especially with our busy season approaching.
“As for getting laid, it’s the twenty-first century, Noelle. Download a dating app. You can either find tourists in town or match with people in Jackson who are willing to come here. It’s not that far.”
“I don’t know. Aren’t dating apps for dating? I don’t have time for that.”
“You can say on your profile that you’re not looking to date. Give me your phone.”
“Now?”
“The tension in your spine isn’t healthy. We have to do something about it,” Rora replies, shaking her head as I hand my phone over.
She types in my passcode: 1225—Christmas Day—and her tongue pokes out in concentration as she downloads the app and sets up my profile.
I leave her to it, enjoying the almost-silence.
The soft sounds of Sunny’s tiny snores are better than any white noise machine, and I swear I’m drifting off when Rora sits up and declares my profile finished.
“It’s nothing fancy, but it’s not like you’re itching for a marriage proposal,” she says.
I take the phone, trying not to jostle Sunny, but she’s a nosy little thing, and wakes up immediately, squinting at the phone light.
“Wow, sweet girl. I think we actually managed five whole minutes of sleep there,” Rora says with an eye roll. Sunny babbles, seemingly wide awake. Babies.
Rora’s done a good job with my profile. I can’t deny that.
She’s chosen a good mix of candid and casual pictures, and a few professional shots—courtesy of her.
My bio and interests are vague, but not bare, and the prompts she selected all make it clear that I’m on the app for one thing and one thing only.
“How’d you get so good at this? You’ve never used a dating app.”
“There’s a British reality show about critiquing dating profiles, and I swear every airline has it available on the in-flight entertainment. I must have watched about three hundred episodes.”
That’s the last thing I expect her to say. I snort, swiping to the bottom of my profile. “Do I just hit the button?”
“Apparently. I set the location to eighty miles, so it should cover from here to Jackson,” Rora says.
I shift the squirming baby in my arms so she’s lying on her tummy across my lap, then set the phone on the couch between me and Rora before hitting the “let’s go!” button.
All three of us peer at the spinning pink circle on the screen as it takes its sweet time looking for possible matches. I open my mouth to joke that there must not be anyone around, when a profile pops up on the screen.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Shay Harland’s smug smile shines on my phone. Well, maybe not smug. She actually has a nice smile, but I need it not to be on my screen.
“Holy shit, what are the odds?” Rora’s clearly fighting a laugh.
“I had no idea she was into women. She doesn’t give that vibe.”
“She totally gives that vibe, Noelle. You just refuse to talk to her. You know, she’s really not that—” She stops talking, pressing her lips together when I glare at her.
“How do I say no?”
“I assume you swipe on the big red X on the screen.”
I ignore her sarcastic tone, leaning closer to my phone, finger poised to say no fucking thank you. But Sunny gets there first. She brandishes her tiny little fist toward the screen… and hits the flashing green check mark.