Chapter 15
GABI
Ugh! Just once I needed traffic to be smooth. I’m already a half hour late delivering cookies and cupcakes to Maddox’s foundation. Then again, me running behind has been the story of my life for the past week.
Ever since Maddox’s Instagram post last week, the bakery has been nonstop.
Not as bad as it was that first day, but it’s consistently steady, which has meant I needed to make changes, and fast. Jada and Lexi have gone from working a few days in the week, but just in the mornings, to splitting each morning and afternoon.
I’ve even hired a few of their friends for some random hours here and there.
I’m putting off hiring a second baker, but that’s probably going to have to happen soon.
Sure that means I’m barely sleeping, but it’s fine.
I enjoy the work. This is my dream. I refuse to complain about success, because who knows how long it’s going to last.
What I will complain about is how fucking tired I am. Like so tired. Today was the worst, which is why I’m running late. I couldn’t make myself get out of bed. I got to the bakery an hour late and an IV drip of Coke Zero wasn’t going to help me today.
I inch the car forward, welcoming any movement in traffic, when my bluetooth signals a phone call from Shelby.
“Perfect timing,” I say. “I’m sitting in traffic.”
“Sounds like fun,” she says in her deadpan way. “Wait. Why are you driving in the middle of the day? Shouldn’t you still be at the bakery?”
“Yes I should be. But I need to make a delivery.”
Please don’t ask to who… please don’t ask to who…
“Delivery? Who are you delivering to?”
Damnit. I shouldn’t have said that. But I know even over the phone, she’ll call me out if I try to lie.
“Maddox.”
There’s silence, but somehow I can hear her smile. “You don’t say…”
“It’s not like that.”
“I never said it was.”
“He’s having a party for the kids at his foundation today and he ordered cookies and cupcakes. I was behind because of how busy I’ve been and I’m overly exhausted from this past week. So since they weren’t done in time for him to pick them up, I offered to deliver them. That’s it.”
“Doth protest quite loudly,” Shelby says. “Funny that I didn’t ask anything and yet you felt the need to information dump.”
“I was getting ahead of your follow-up question.”
“Bold of you to assume I was going to have one,” she says. “But since we’re on the topic of Maddox, how is your boyfriend?”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say with a little too much fight.
“Ah… doth protesting again…”
“Why are you saying ‘doth’ so much?”
“It’s a fun word. Try it sometime,” she says. “Now, back to the good stuff. Has the youngin’ asked you out again?”
I let my head fall into the window. “He hasn’t.”
“Are you disappointed in that?”
“What? No. Why would you ask that?”
“I don’t know, maybe because you let out a sigh before you answered?”
“I did not sigh.”
“Fine. I must be hearing things. No one sighed and he’s not your boyfriend. Got it. All the words you’re saying are one hundred percent the truth”
I might’ve sighed, but I’m not going to admit it. Because Maddox is the kind of guy who makes you sigh. I never would’ve thought to describe someone like that, but for Maddox, it fits.
I mean, what’s there not to sigh about? Between his good looks, his demeanor, and the fact that he’s a good person, the man is a real life heartthrob.
And that’s not even tapping into the memory of our night together.
How safe I felt in his arms after pouring my heart out through a song.
How I can still taste the tequila that lingered on his tongue.
I can feel his hands holding onto me as he pinned me against the door.
How my body came alive when he entered me for the first time.
And yes, I might’ve sighed a little because he hasn’t asked me out again.
I’m not even sure I can say yes. I mean, I can’t.
I know this. But does he even want to? Sure, there have been moments where I thought he wanted to kiss me.
Little things he said. Is he really respecting my boundaries or did I push him too hard in the friend zone and now the opportunity might never come when I’m ready for it? If I’m ever ready for it?
So yeah… sigh.
“You know,” Shelby says, breaking through my thoughts that were about to head into PG-13 territory. “You could date him if you wanted to.”
That gets a laugh out of me. “You know I can’t,” I say, wondering why we’re having this conversation again. We have it weekly during our calls with Hannah when she always tries to convince me to give Maddox a chance. “I’ve told both you and Hannah a dozen times I can’t.”
“Not really.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you’ve said why you shouldn’t. You’ve never told me why you actually can’t.”
“Because,” I say, wondering what she needs me to repeat. “He’s twenty-four.”
“That’s not a can’t. He’s a legal adult. Try again.”
“Shelby, I could’ve babysat him.”
“But did you?” she asks. “Because unless Iowa is somehow now a parish in Louisiana, you didn’t.”
“I’m talking in theory,” I say, getting more flustered as traffic finally starts to inch forward. “But it’s not just that. Do you not remember that I’m recently divorced?”
“I do. Thank fucking lord.”
“So yeah.”
She doesn’t say anything for a moment. “So yeah what?”
“So yeah I can’t date yet.”
“Says who? Was there a clause in the divorce agreement that says you’re banned from dating for a year? Because if so, that’s some bullshit considering fuck face started dating other women while you two were still married.”
“There’s no clause. It’s just…” I trail off because I don’t know what I want to say. Because those are my reasons. They should matter. They do matter.
At least, I thought they did.
I shouldn’t be ready to date, should I? Sure, the divorce was just finalized but we’ve been separated for more than two years. If it was anyone else telling me this timeline, I’d tell them to do what makes them happy.
Or who makes them happy.
“It’s what?” Shelby asks.
“It’s… am I ready?”
It’s the first time I’ve said anything like that out loud, but it feels good to acknowledge the fear.
“Now that is a reason why you maybe, or maybe not, use the word can’t,” Shelby says. “How about this… let’s break everything down.”
“Always my analytical friend,” I say with a half smile.
“Data never lies.”
If there’s one thing to know about Shelby, is that she looks at things from every angle, and usually has facts and examples to back things up.
It helps her in the game of golf—what’s the yardage?
The angle of her shot? What club should she use for maximum outcome?
What did she use the last time she was in a similar situation?
She takes that approach to life too, which is nice to have when you’re the friend that feels like she’s slowly going out of control.
“Let’s start off with basic questions, do you like him? And don’t give me any qualifying reasons. It’s a simple yes or no. Do you enjoy him as a person?”
I couldn’t lie if I wanted to. “Yes.”
“Do you like it when you spend time with him?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to fuck him again?”
“Shelby!”
“What? It’s important for the data.”
“I hate you,” I say. “But the answer is yes.”
“Don’t hate me. Hate the facts,” she says. “Okay, so based on our early data, results say you should give the guy a chance, or at least see if there’s something there.”
“Shocker. Your data is telling me something you wanted it to.”
“You know that’s not the case so quit being hard headed.
” I’m a proponent that you need different kinds of friends in your life.
Ones who will hold your hand while you cry.
Ones that will commit a felony with you.
Ones that will tell you when the jeans make your butt look fat.
Luckily for me, Shelby is all of those wrapped into one.
“In all seriousness, I think you should give the guy a chance. Sure, the age thing might be a little weird, but only if you make it that way. Is there anything that he’s done that’s like ‘whoa. You’re too young. I can’t fuck you again?’”
“Besides his hair cut?” I say, though my voice is light when I do.
“I don’t. He’s… he’s a good guy Shelby. He makes me smile.
He supports the bakery. He makes me laugh.
He brought me Coke Zero the other day because I was out.
He has this ridiculous notebook of Best Friend Activity outings for us to do because he knows I’m not ready to date. He’s…”
There’s the sigh. I heard it that time.
“If you already didn’t know the answer before, I think you do now.”
She’s right. I know she is.
“But am I ready for something? You’re right, at the end of the day, I do like him. It’s just… it’s fucking scary Shelby.”
“Of course it is,” she says. “No one is saying it’s not. Any relationship is scary. You’d be scared if he was three years older than you.”
“That’s true.”
“Also, you know you don’t have to marry every relationship you’re in, right?”
I laugh. “In theory I do.”
“In fact, I recommend you don’t. Date. Have fun. Have some orgasms. It doesn’t have to be serious.”
“Says the woman who doesn’t know what a serious relationship looks like.”
“You got me on that one.”
Shelby has never been one to settle down. In fact, I don’t know if she’s ever seriously dated anyone. If she has, she hasn’t told me.
“I’m not sure what Maddox wants, or even what I want,” I say, choosing my next words carefully. “But you’re right. I do like him. I do want to try. And maybe… we take it slow.”
Yes. Maybe. Okay. That sounds good. Would I love to be brave like the woman I was in Vegas? Sure. She was fueled by champagne, spite, and a sequin dress. I’m sure she’s still in me somewhere, but for now, we’re going to channel a little of her courage and start things slow.
And for the first time in weeks, I feel a little lighter. A little happier.