If It Makes You Happy(86)
“Yeah. And now, God”—her eyes widen and she shakes her head—“she took over the B and B so easily.” She blows out a breath. “She’s my superhero. And I can’t even imagine how much she’s had to learn about this place in such a short amount of time.”
“She’s a quick learner,” I say, a laugh tickling up my throat. “Very quick.”
Sara exhales shakily. “It’s a lot to learn.”
I peer up at her as her eyes bore a hole through the table’s wood. “Hey, I’m sure you’ll do great.”
“Yeah.” She readjusts in her seat and waves a nonchalant hand in the air. “Ugh, anyway, enough about me. What about you? How’d you get to be a baker?”
“Uh …” I rap my knuckles on the table. “Well, it was a dream forever. Home ec in high school really resonated with me. And there was a storefront that went vacant—a block away actually—right after my divorce, and … I guess you look at life a little differently after everything you thought was real suddenly isn’t. You embrace silly dreams a bit more.”
Sara blinks at me, nodding slowly, as if really soaking in my words.
“I love that,” she says. “I mean, not the whole divorce thing. That didn’t work out. But I like that you went for it and made your dream come true.”
It’s always weird when people who aren’t divorced discuss divorce. That didn’t work out feels like such an oversimplification of it all. I manage a wan smile anyway.
“How old are you?” she blurts out.
“Thirty-three.”
“Twenty-four,” she counters.
“Oof,” I grunt out, shaking my head and tonguing the inside of my cheek with a hesitant laugh.
She grins. “Too young?”
I don’t know a nice way to say, Yes, because you’re less than ten years older than my daughter, so instead, I tilt my head to the side. “Question for you, Sara.”
“Okay,” she says, giddy.
“Why aren’t you dating someone at school?”
“Is this your dad side coming out?”
I chuckle. “Maybe.”
Sara sits taller. “I’m not interested in boys out there. They like to surf and smoke and listen to dumb music. And … I don’t know … they’re not my type.”
“What is your type?” I ask.
“Older dads.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. “You’re very confident—I’ll give you that.”
Sara grins, shimmying her shoulders as she settles into her seat. “Thank you.”
“Michelle talks really highly of you. It’s nice to see you match what I imagined.”
She blinks. “Wait, what? She did?”
“Yeah. You’re her favorite person in the world.”
Her posture falters more. “She said that?”
“Yes, a ball of sunshine …” I say slowly, then laugh. “Why? You sound like that’s weird to hear.”
“It is.”
“Nah, come on. She’d do anything for you. This should show it.”
“What should?”
“Taking over the inn. She wouldn’t sacrifice her job for anyone else.”
“Did she … I mean, she …” Sara shakes her head. “Yeah. Sure. I guess she doesn’t talk about her emotions much. Not with me.”
I can’t help but smile. “It almost feels rewarding when she does, doesn’t it?”
Sara opens her mouth, then closes it, but Lars comes back to the table before she can answer. We place our orders, and when he leaves again, he looks between us, curls his lips in like he has a secret, then rushes toward the back of the house.
“Don’t be weird, Lars!” I call after him.
Sara’s eyes dart between mine and the door he escaped through. “What does that mean?”
I lean across the table. “Well, just so you know,” I whisper, “this entire town will know about our date by the end of the evening.”
“Really?” she asks.
“Really. They’re vultures, all of them.” I look around, and a few people are staring our way. I wave at Betty until she has enough tact to look back at her pizza slice.
Sara bites her lip. “Well, we should give them something to talk about then.”
I raise my eyebrows, but my heart instantly starts racing.
“Uh, maybe,” I respond.
“I’ll come up with something; don’t worry,” Sara says.
“Come up with what?”
“Something to talk about,” she answers with a playful wink.
All I can manage is an amused laugh. “Man, you two are very different, aren’t you?”
“Who?”
“You and Michelle.”
“Oh. Yeah. Mom always said that too,” she replies. “Two sides of the same coin. Sun and moon. Blonde and brunette. Sagittarius and Scorpio.”
I chuckle. “I never understood the sign thing.”
“Okay, well, Scorpios are intense. That’s Michelle.”
“She’s definitely that,” I agree. “It took me forever to get a reaction out of her that wasn’t hate. But, eh”—I lean in like I’m sharing a conspiracy—“pretty sure she still hates me.”