Chapter Thirty-Nine
Ava
The rest of the party felt like an eternity. I didn’t think Riley avoided me as much as she followed Liam, but it definitely felt like she wasn’t coming near enough to risk a conversation. Ben and I cooked the dinner in silence, and I checked out completely when we all sat down to eat. I didn’t hear a word anyone said until “goodbye.”
When I finally got home, I cried until I couldn’t breathe, then fell asleep on my couch. I woke to the sound of my phone ringing. Picking it up to answer, I gasped when I saw the time.
It was already six.
I’d forgotten to set my alarms. The bakery opened in half an hour, and I didn’t even have a batch of muffins baking, let alone bread.
I didn’t recognize the number, so I didn’t pick up. Instead I hauled ass to get myself out of the house and to The Rolling Scone in record time. I quickly changed into one of my fifty classic rock band tees and a pair of jeans, threw my hair into a ponytail, and hit the road.
Looked like it was a no makeup kind of day, and, honestly, that felt about right.
Halfway into town, my phone rang again with a call from that same number. I was driving, and my van was so old it didn’t have any fancy Bluetooth connection capabilities, so I let the phone ring out to voicemail. I’d have to check it once I got everything opened and got some muffins in the oven.
Luckily, I didn’t make everything from scratch every single day, so I did have some things available for my early birds. It was a limited supply and not hot out of the oven, but better than nothing.
I parked in the lot behind the row of buildings and ran from my car to the sidewalk, fumbling to find my key without slowing down.
“Ava!”
Coming to a screeching halt, I spun to find a very angry Travis Beatty staring at me, enormous, tattooed arms folded. He stood in the open doorway to the abandoned bookstore next door, frowning hard. Or, more accurately, he took up the entire doorway, his head nearly scraping the top frame.
I did not need this right now.
“Why did you not answer your phone?” he demanded.
I pulled my phone out and opened the missed call screen. That number had called me four times, beginning at five-thirty. Turning it so he could see the screen I asked, “Is this you?”
He tsked, still frowning. “Yes, that’s me. Add that number to your contacts.”
“Someone’s bossy this morning,” I mumbled, doing what he ordered.
“You get here at five. I gave you a whole half hour before I started the panicked phone calls.”
“How do you know when I get into work?” I asked, and then, “Wait, why are you even here?”
“I’m reopening the bookstore,” he grinned, opening his hands to gesture broadly at the dilapidated storefront. “And Ben told me you guys broke up yesterday. He wanted me to make sure you were okay, keep an eye out for anything suspicious.” His eyes narrowed. “You know, like being almost two hours late to work and not answering your phone.”
That hit me like a punch in the gut. Of course, after everything that happened yesterday, Ben was worried about me. Because that was the kind of person he was, that was one of the things I love most about Ben—how much he cared about his friends and family.
“Tell Ben he doesn’t need to worry about me,” I assured Travis, impressed with how calmly my words came out. “You just make sure he has somebody to hang out with tonight. Consider yourself off of Ava duty.”
Shoving the key into the door, it wasn’t until I heard the lock click that the rest of Travis’s explanation sank in. That’s what I got for a morning without coffee, I guess.
“Wait,” I called, catching him before he disappeared next door. “You bought the bookstore?”
“Caught that part, did you?” he grinned. “It looked so sad over here, and I need supplemental income because coaching high school football is definitely not a full salary. And I’m not even the head coach.”
I looked from the dusty books in the display window back to the gigantic man in front of me. His long, dark, wavy hair was pulled into a messy bun at the back of his head—the type that only a guy with his charisma could pull off. Even though he hadn’t gone pro like Liam, he still looked every inch an athlete.
“But.” I opened and shut my mouth several times. “You’re a football player.”
His giant arms crossed again. “Ava Lancaster, are you implying that an athlete can’t also be a bookworm?”
Of all the ridiculous things that had happened this morning, that one finally got me. The hint of a smile cracked the corner of my lips, and all I could do was shake my head.
“Travis, you’re going to break some girl’s heart one day.”
“Who says I haven’t already?” he teased, winking at me before he ducked back into his bookshop.
That was going to take some getting used to.
After my little chat with Travis, I was running so far behind that I didn’t even have time to start baking before Jim and Kay came in. They were always my first customers, and they were always smiling. I did my best to play the part, plastering on what I hoped wasn’t a fake smile and making small talk. But inside, I was fighting for my life against a roiling sea of failure and loss.
I had messed up everything. I’d probably lost Jules as a friend. I doubted I’d be seeing Gianna or Viv anytime soon. Based on past experience, it would be another ten to fifteen years before they showed up for anything. Maybe if they weren’t too mad at me about all this, they’d let me come visit them. Once I hired help, it would be easier to take time off.
At least I still had Riley, though she was caught awkwardly between me and Jules, and I didn’t want to make her even more uncomfortable.
I’d fumbled the house purchase. Tanked my dream of running the bed and breakfast with my friends. All over a guy, no less. And, worst of all, I’d lost him, too. I hoped that breaking it off with Ben would help me back into Jules’s good graces, but everything about it felt so wrong.
When we were together, it felt like high school again. It felt like I had a real friend again, someone I could really share my life with. Someone I could depend on, and who could depend on me, too.
Mrs. Beatty came in at one, same as every other day. I helped her to her seat, and went to get her cupcake and sprinkles. When I set it down on the cafe table, she turned a scrutinizing look toward me.
“You look a wreck,” she commented. “Take a seat.”
“I overslept,” I explained. “I didn’t have time to really get ready this morning.”
She tsked at me, reminding me of Travis just a few hours earlier. “Not physically. Mentally. You aren’t your usual self.”
“Oh.” I sighed, leaning forward onto the table and resting my face in my hands. “In that case, I’m definitely a wreck.”
“Tell me.” She started peeling the wrapper off her glittery pink cupcake.
I did. I told her the whole story of how I had messed up everything, betraying my friends, losing the house, and losing the guy. I didn’t really know what she could possibly say that would be helpful, but at this point I was willing to give anything a shot.
“I’m going to tell you the same thing I told you weeks ago. You need new friends.” She shoveled a giant bite of cupcake onto her fork and chewed it while I gave her statement real consideration.
But I still didn’t like it.
“I don’t want new friends,” I told her. “I like my old ones.”
“Right,” she set down her fork and looked at me. “That’s my point. You like your old friends. These girls, they’re not them. Maybe they could be your new friends, but at some point, you’re going to have to let the old ones go.”
If it had been physically possible for my jaw to hit the floor, it would have. How had I not seen that? Instead of stopping there, she picked her fork back up and continued laying down hard truths.
“Do you think they ever really cared about this bed and breakfast you were telling me about?” she asked. “Because it sounds to me like they went along with it to make you happy and then hopped out when the going got rough. If they really wanted it—if they shared that dream the way you do—all those problems would’ve just been obstacles.”
She was right. She was absolutely right.
They’d been hesitant from the beginning, but I’d ignored it. Made excuses.
They’d tried telling me every which way that they still wanted to be my friends, but it was clear the dynamic was different. We all wanted and needed different things. Our goals had changed and everyone but me had moved forward. They had just been humoring me all along while I tried to hold them back.
I stood up, new resolve sinking into my bones.
“Your cupcake is on the house today,” I told Mrs. Beatty, “and don’t you dare try to pay me.”
She tsked at me, but smiled as she finished that fluffy pink cupcake.
The first step to fixing the mess I made was to make things right with my friends. Then, maybe if I mended things with Jules, I could work on making it up to Ben.
I might not be able to get us back to where we were.
But maybe, just maybe, I could help us get somewhere new.