“I’d say yes. Yes, they are.”
“Weird.”
“Yeah. Weird.” I’ll just pretend not to be curious, and then maybe it won’t gnaw away at me.
“How’ve you been? And I want an honest answer.” Lana follows me over to the counter as I set down the carafe.
“I’m dealing, and honestly, fine. I don’t know why everyone keeps asking me that.” An espresso cup slips from my hand, shattering onto the floor. “Dammit.”
“I’ll get a broom,” Olivia volunteers over my shoulder.
I lock eyes with Lana, who’s shooting me a knowing glance. “Fine. I’m scared. Nervous. Paranoid. Better?”
“Yeah. I got that. How about this… let’s get away for a few days. Take your mind off your lunatic husband?”
Even though it’s tempting, it won’t erase any of it and I’ve already run away once.
“I can’t leave Shelby and the café. I’ve missed too many days already. And I know you don’t want to leave the studio.”
Disappointment fills her. “I can manage, and I’m sure Shelby will understand.”
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
Logan’s shoulders are more tense as he comes back inside, Crew nowhere to be found.
Lana watches Logan but addresses me. “This town has your back, Sora. Never forget that.”
I smile. Even though the town doesn’t know what’s happening, I can fully accept what Lana tells me. Everyone is a close family here, and the idea of having them on my side is comforting.
Olivia hands us a flyer left on a table. “Strawberry festival tomorrow. Who’s going?”
“Another summer festival?” I ask, sorting through the latest receipts.
“This town thrives off their festivities.” Olivia chuckles, taking an order at the front.
“I forgot about the strawberry festival.” Lana leans forward on the counter. “They’re also having a baking contest. Maybe you can make something.”
That catches my attention. “Oh, yeah?” I grab the flyer and read the front page. “It’s short notice, but I suppose I can run to the market after work.”
A baking contest sounds therapeutic.
I’m sure my dad has a strawberry recipe in that box of his.
After heading home, I read through the recipes and, sure enough, I find the perfect one. As I’m leaving to head to the market for the ingredients, Logan walks out of his place at the same time as me.
We meet each other’s gazes, and he holds up his hands in surrender. “I swear this is pure accident and I’m not playing bodyguard. This time.”
I knew it.
“I’m not entirely convinced.”
We meet at the end of the drive, him standing with his hands in his pockets.
“I’m actually on my way to the market.”
He winces, massaging the back of his neck. “Would you believe me if I told you that’s where I was headed?”
I throw him with a curious eye. “Possibly. What are you buying?” I ask super-fast, as if quizzing him.
