I suck in a breath. “It’s complicated.”
“Complicated enough to drive you to drink?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m finding other ways to cope.”
“Like?”
“Well, I wasn’t allowed to build a boat in rehab because they were afraid I would get high off the glue or something, so I read. A lot.”
He rears back. “Wait. You can read?”
I give him a shove with my shoulder, which knocks him off-balance. He laughs, which only makes me break out into a chuckle too.
“What book did you like most?”
“Catcher in the Rye.”
His rubs his jaw. “I don’t feel like I appreciated that book as much as I should have when I read it in high school. Maybe I should give it a reread now that I’m an adult with more life experience.”
“Definitely. I think it’s a new favorite of mine.”
“What did you relate to most?”
“It’s hard to pick a particular theme, but maybe that I need to care about myself before prioritizing others.”
He nods. “And how’s that going?”
“Falling in love with yourself is ten times harder than falling in love with someone else, especially when I don’t like myself very much.”
“You’ll get there.”
“Did you used to feel that way?” I ask.
His gaze flickers across my face. “All the time.”
“How did you get past it?”
“By becoming someone I was proud of.”
We continue walking in silence. Delilah and Wyatt don’t live on the lake like we do, but their neighborhood is quaint and quiet, which makes it easy for me to get lost in my thoughts.
I’m not sure how long we walk for, but my calves are burning by the time we arrive back at their house. I’ve never had a sponsor before, so I’m not sure what to expect of the process, but a quiet walk wasn’t the first idea I had in mind.
Yet I feel more at peace than ever.
“See you tomorrow at AA?” Wyatt tucks his hands into his athletic shorts.
“Absolutely.”
54
ALANA
A knock on the door pulls me away from the show I was watching. I rise on to the tips of my toes and look through the peephole.
Oh God.
My hand trembles as I go to open the door. Cal doesn’t give me a chance to take him in as he lifts me off my feet, knocking the air out of my lungs.
“Fuck, I’ve missed you.” His arms wrapped around me tremble.
My heart clenches. I push against his chest, needing space to think.
“Just give me one more second.”
“One.” I tap on his shoulder.
He sighs as he puts me down on my feet, making sure to take his sweet time. “Sorry for that. I just got ahead of myself after spending the last thirty-seven days dreaming of coming home.”
Home.
Whatever control I had over my emotions unravels like a flimsy bow. I place a shaky hand against his cheek, and he leans into it.
“I’m proud of you for getting sober. Even if it was just for—”
He cuts me off. “Me. It was for me.”
I release a shaky breath. It’s not that I don’t want to believe what he says, but I’ve been burned too many times by him to do anything but doubt him.
He pulls something out of his pocket. “I wanted to bring you this.” He holds out a single chip. The slight tremor of his palm makes my chest tighten. “I know it’s not much, but I plan on earning every single one for the three of us.”
The three of us.
Warmth floods my chest like a broken dam, spreading from my chest to my toes. There is nothing I want more than for him to prove me wrong, but a big part of me is worried to believe him. Worried to hope. To dream. To trust that he is finally getting the help he needs.
Cal places the chip in my palm and closes my fist around it. “I will be at the motel if you need me.”
“I thought you hated that place.”
“Not nearly as much as I hate being far away from you.”
I reach out for the doorframe to stop myself from falling over. His lips tug into a small smile, although he walks away before I have a chance to truly enjoy it.
I peek behind him at the bright yellow SUV in the driveway. It looks like something straight out of a comic book, with all the sharp lines and chrome. “Is that a Lamborghini?”
He throws me a smile from over his shoulder. “Yeah.”
“What happened to your old car?”
He rubs the back of his neck and looks away. “Someone told me my other one isn’t safe for a kid.”
I blink.
He got a new car because you didn’t think his other one was safe enough?!
My grip on the doorframe tightens because I really do think my legs might give out.
“See you around?” His smile is hesitant.
I can only nod.
He drives off in his brand-new SUV he got for us while I remain staring at the space he previously occupied. I expected to feel relief at him leaving, but instead, disappointment presses against my shoulders.
Isn’t this what you wanted? Him gone?
That might have been the case, but what if he is telling the truth? What if he really is getting sober because he wants to better himself?
Only time will tell.
I’m driving back to the house after dropping Cami off at her dance class when I get distracted by the bright yellow Lamborghini SUV outside of the shop I’ve spent the last month ignoring.
Is that Cal?
My suspicions are confirmed as I catch him standing outside the shop, staring up at the building. I pull over and put my car hazards on. With shaky legs, I walk over to the man standing outside the store I always dreamed of opening my bakery in.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
He looks over at me with eyes concealed by sunglasses. “Checking out the building.”
I turn to look at the shop. The red Coming Soon sign from before is no longer displayed across the windows.
“They left?” I walk up to the window and peek inside. The space is completely empty besides a few abandoned paint cans and a plastic sheet protecting the floor.
“I guess so,” Cal says from behind me.
I peek over my shoulder at him. “Why?”
“I overheard someone at the bookshop mentioning that the new landlord hiked up the rental prices.”
Shit! How will I ever afford this place now?
“What happened to Vinny?” Vinny’s family made a small fortune off renting out their tiny strip of Main Street for generations, so I’m surprised they parted with it.
“I heard he got bought out.”
My shoulders slump. “I wonder how much the new landlord is charging now if it ran them out of business before ever opening.”
“You could call their office and ask for a price.” He slides his sunglasses over his head.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek. Truth is, I’m tempted to give them a call. With all the money I’m getting from the deal I made with Rowan, I could probably afford the rent.
But still, something stops me—good old self-doubt, always popping up when I least expect it.
How many shops have tried to be successful here only to fizzle out? What makes my idea so different from the last bakery that opened here? Or the store before that?