Chapter 5
FIVE
The pink box poking its edge from the welcome basket was unrecognisable at first. Leah edged closer, conscious that it wasn’t even her trip—she hadn’t paid for anything. She was an unsought guest at best, basically excess baggage that Grace insisted on carrying when everyone else packed light.
The first letters of the pink packaging became visible. The well-thought-out aesthetic made Leah want to explore whatever was inside. She tugged the corner carefully, removing the box from the basket, trying to remember exactly how it was positioned so she could place it back neatly.
Mackinac Island fudge.
She turned her head from side to side, as though someone might be watching. Hidden cameras? She shook her head. The contents of the little pink box would be enough to send her into a sugar-fuelled coma. It was a nice touch by the owners to leave a basket of gifts—some necessities, others niceties.
The combination of the two? An ingenious review booster.
Don’t open the box.
She stared at it like some crazed calorie-controlled lunatic with ten abs and pronounced arm veins you only got from years of obsessive gym-going, finally about to crack.
She loved fudge.
She loved Mackinac Island fudge in particular.
The obsession stemmed from childhood. Her parents used to take her there occasionally, before the downward spiral toward divorce.
She had a picture of the three of them outside the famous Grand Hotel in the summer of ‘99.
The pristine white exterior, accented with pops of yellow, pink, and red tulips, was her favourite family photo—her parents genuinely looked happy.
Oh, and Mackinac Island also happened to be the place she fell in love with Ariana.
Leah peeled the small sticky seal from the box and carefully removed the lid to reveal six impeccably sliced pieces of fudge.
Identical in width, length, and shape. A small menu card gave a brief description of each slice.
The smell reminded Leah of a warm summer’s day—the sweet combination of chocolate, butter, vanilla, and sugar was inviting and oddly comforting.
Chocolate Peanut Butter Fudge had always been her favourite—surprisingly, it wasn’t among the pieces. But another flavour was, one she recognised instantly from the caramel and pecan top layer.
Turtle Fudge.
She laughed to herself. The memory of a conversation with Ariana flooded her mind.
A three-hour drive to Mackinaw City had been their first road trip, and it proved their compatibility.
Leah believed a road trip was the defining test of any relationship.
Add 100-degree heat and busted air-conditioning? That exposed everything.
Ariana powered through, gritted teeth, sweat pouring down her face.
She didn’t complain, didn’t snap when Leah said she might explode for the fifth time.
The minute the cool air of the air-conditioned ferry hit Leah’s skin, she knew: if they could survive what felt like a week in the Sahara, they could survive anything.
Naturally, she hadn’t foreseen the thrown object being an ex-fiancée of eight years.
Mackinac Island was exactly how Leah remembered it from her teens. A tourist haven with charming architecture, scenic hiking trails, and a 100% car-free atmosphere. The landmarks, eateries, and shops felt familiar, and Leah got to play tour guide.
They’d stumbled upon a fudge store with a line stretching from the flower-covered entrance. Leah remembered the hand-written sign on the paving stones out front with perfect clarity. In fact, she still had the picture somewhere in a box labelled: “DO NOT OPEN UNLESS YOU WANT TO brEAK DOWN.”
The sign had very accurate little white chalk-drawn turtles, and in thick pink writing, it read: “Get your fresh Turtle Fudge here today!” In tiny script below: “No turtles were harmed in the making of our fudge.”
Ariana read the sign. Then read it again. The confusion on her face was obvious.
She turned to Leah. “There’s not really turtle in the fudge, right?”
Leah burst out laughing. “You’re not serious.”
“It’s called Turtle Fudge. That would indicate it has something to do with turtles.” Ariana pointed to the sign.
“Erm, yes—it’s named after the candy Turtles. You know, with pecans and caramel? Same ingredients, no turtle meat . . .eww.” Leah shuddered.
“Are you sure?”
“Would you like to go inside and ask the owner?” Leah smirked.
“Would that be embarrassing?”
“Very,” Leah laughed.
Ariana pouted and frowned—it was the cutest display of cuteness Leah had ever witnessed. It went on to become her favourite of Ariana’s expressions. Whenever Ariana felt silly, she’d revert to that inner child seeking someone to absorb the embarrassment. Leah used to love being that person.
They spent the next 30 minutes watching one of the many fudge shops tend to their fudge.
The cook used a large copper kettle, stirring continuously for the right consistency.
They watched as he poured the thick chocolate mixture onto a marble slab—cooling and shaping had begun.
He folded the fudge until creamy, then moved to the adjacent slab, where he rolled, stretched, and shaped it into loaf-like forms before slicing it into perfectly portioned pieces.
“Are you satisfied that no turtles were harmed?” Leah whispered.
Ariana playfully nudged her.
“Would you like to try a piece?” the fudge maker asked.
“Yes, please.” Ariana’s face lit up.
Leah had done the tour on previous visits, and still, the taste of fresh fudge ranked in her top five things she’d ever put in her mouth—food, not rude. Depressingly, Ariana still held the number one spot.
It was in that moment, watching the fudge maker chop a slice into smaller chunks and launch them toward the spectators, that Leah fell in love.
It happened unexpectedly. The emotion weighed on her chest. That warm, queasy feeling in her stomach—offbeat and disarming—caught her off guard.
And while she’d loved her ex before Ariana, she realised then she’d never truly been in love.
Now, she lived with the aftershocks of a relationship that once made her feel unstoppable. When her friends or family expressed concern about her inability to move on, her answer was always the same: “I will one day. I just haven’t found the right person.”
It was partly true. She hadn’t. Some might argue she hadn’t given anyone a chance. But the real truth? She couldn’t settle. Not when she knew what existed.
Urgh.
She hated that she’d once loved Ariana so deeply.
As a result, any future partner had to break down walls as high as the Sistine Chapel, jump through Olympic rings of fire, and fight off rabid dogs guarding the small pumping organ she called her heart.
It sounded like an illegal version of Wipeout.
She honestly felt bad for whoever dared try.
Just one small bite couldn’t hurt.
She felt like Joey from Friends, resisting chocolate cake.
She pulled a fork from the third kitchen drawer she opened.
The fudge was fresh—her fate was sealed.
No way she could resist. There were six pieces and eight guests.
But three were children—one too young to eat fudge.
So technically, one piece for the twins. Girl math.
Just a small corner piece. She’d offer the rest to everyone else. Just one tiny sliver—
The fork sliced through the Turtle Fudge. The moist, sugary treat yielded easily. She pierced the small corner section that now lay flat in the box.
No going back. If this went south, she’d blame the children.
The creamy chocolate melted in her mouth. Hints of caramel engulfed her taste buds. She closed her eyes, letting the sweetness linger.
She sighed. “I think this is the best fudge I’ve ever tasted.”
“Is that so?” a voice interrupted.
Startled, Leah opened her eyes to find Ariana standing in front of her.
“I’m sorry,” Leah dropped the fork on the counter. “I couldn’t resist.”
Ariana smirked. Leah couldn’t wipe the sheepish look from her face. This was her worst nightmare—caught in the act. And by Ariana, of all people.
What was she even doing back at the house?
She walked over in the slow, effortless, almost floating way that she did, perusing the kitchen as if pieces of Van Gogh’s work blessed the surfaces.
She approached Leah from the left, their sudden proximity causing the air to crackle with tension.
Her hand brushed past Leah’s exposed arm as she reached for the same fudge-stained fork Leah had just used.
“So, what flavours do we have?” she smiled. “Is that—” Ariana pointed the metal object towards the smaller, now misshaped piece of fudge.
“Turtle Fudge,” Leah answered.
“I remember—” Ariana smiled but turned her face back toward the sweet treat.
What was that?
Leah noticed it, only briefly, but it was there—a flicker of pain? Of discomfort? Maybe Leah imagined it.
After all, despite her desire to be over Ariana enough that they could be friends, there was still the voice in her head that wanted Ariana to feel something, even if it was just half of the pain and suffering Leah had endured on her road to post-breakup healing.
“It feels like a lifetime ago since we were there,” Ariana confessed.
Yet, Leah could still recall the feelings like it was yesterday.
“I know,” Leah agreed.
“Do you remember the view from the Grand Hotel porch?”
“Oh my God, of course. I could’ve sat there all day.”
“With your box of fudge and your fourth can of Celsius?” Ariana laughed.
“You didn’t tell me there was caffeine in those drinks! I felt like I’d taken acid! I was shaking,” Leah recalled.
She didn’t do particularly well with caffeine. The occasional coffee she could handle, but she envied those who could use it as their fuel to get through the day.
“It was a great trip,” Ariana trailed off.