I’m surprised when he says, “I know. But that was a long time ago.”
I nod. “That was a long time ago,” I repeat.
“How’s Annie holding up?” Gavin changes the subject again. “With the stuff between you and your ex and everything?”
I look up at him. No one has asked me this recently, and I’m surprised by how much I appreciate it. “She’s okay,” I tell him. I pause and correct myself. “Actually, I don’t know why I said that. She’s not okay. She seems so angry lately, and I don’t know what to do about it. It’s like I know the real Annie’s in there somewhere, but right now, she just wants to hurt me.”
I don’t know why I’m confiding in him, but as Gavin nods slowly, there’s not a bit of judgment on his face, and for that I’m grateful. I begin to wipe down the counter with a wet rag.
“It’s rough when you’re that age,” he says. “I was just a few years older than her when my parents got a divorce. She’s just confused, Hope. She’ll come out of it.”
“You think so?” I ask in a small voice.
“I know so,” Gavin says. He stands and crosses to the counter, where he puts his hand on mine. I stop wiping and look up at him. “She’s a good kid, Hope. I saw that this summer with all that time I spent at your house.”
I can feel tears in my eyes, which embarrasses me. I blink them away. “Thanks.” I pause and pull my hand away.
“If there’s ever anything I can do . . .” Gavin says. Instead of completing the sentence, he looks at me so intensely that I look away, my face burning.
“You’re really nice to offer, Gavin,” I say. “But I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than worry about the old lady who runs the bakery.”
Gavin arches an eyebrow. “I don’t see any old ladies around here.”
“That’s nice of you to say,” I murmur. “But you’re young, you’re single . . .” I pause. “Wait, you’re single, right?”
“Last time I checked.”
I ignore the unexpected feeling of relief that sweeps through me. “Yeah, well, I’m thirty-six going on seventy-five; I’m divorced; I’m sinking financially; I’ve got a kid who hates me.” I pause and look down. “You’ve got better things to do than worry about me. Shouldn’t you be out doing something . . . I don’t know, something young, single people do?”
“Something young, single people do?” he repeats. “Like what, exactly?”
“I don’t know,” I say. I feel foolish. I haven’t felt young in ages. “Clubbing?” I venture in a small voice.
He bursts out laughing. “Yeah, I moved to the Cape because of the wild club scene. In fact, I’m just on my way back from a rave now.”
I smile, but my heart’s not in it. “I know I’m being dumb,” I say. “But you don’t have to worry about me. I have a lot on my plate. But I’ve always handled everything before. I’ll figure things out.”
“Letting someone in once in a while wouldn’t kill you, you know,” Gavin says softly.
I look at him sharply and open my mouth to respond, but he speaks first.
“Like I said the other day, you’re a good mom,” Gavin goes on. “You’ve got to stop doubting yourself.”
I look down. “It’s just that I seem to screw everything up,” I say. I feel the color rise to my cheeks and I mumble, “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”
I hear Gavin take a deep breath, and a moment later, he has come around the counter and wrapped his arms around me. My heart thuds as I hug him back. I try not to notice how solid his chest is as he pulls me close, and instead focus on how nice it feels to be held. There’s no one left to comfort me this way anymore, and I hadn’t realized until this moment how much I’ve missed it.
“You don’t screw everything up, Hope,” Gavin murmurs into my hair. “You’ve got to cut yourself a break. You’re the toughest person I know.” He pauses and adds, “I know things have been hard on you lately. But you never know what will happen tomorrow, or the next day. One day, one week, one month can change everything.”
I look up sharply and take a step away. “My mother used to say that. Those exact words.”
“Yeah?” Gavin asks.
“Yeah.”
“You never mention her,” he says.