You can do this, I chant to myself as I exit the car and walk toward the sidewalk.
At least you look good, I add. In honor of getting my shit together, I picked out my best outfit, hoping the pop of color and dash of accessories would boost my mood.
You don’t need to seek everyone’s attention all the time; that old comment made by Oliver’s mother about my clothing rears its ugly, unwelcome head.
I nearly twist my ankle at the memory.
One day I hope you feel comfortable enough in your own skin to stop covering it up, she said before handing me a bottle of anti-aging cream.
You should stop—
“Dahlia? Is that you?” a woman calls out behind me.
My mom stops next to me and turns with a smile.
Nope. Can’t do this. Screw the meds and my therapist’s advice to get out of the house. Helping my family with flowers is one thing, but having to face people is a whole different issue I’m not ready to tackle now that the news has broken about my failed engagement.
Mom grabs my shoulders to stop me from escaping. “It’ll be good for you to catch up with old friends.”
Except I don’t have any friends at Lake Wisteria anymore. The two close ones I made in elementary school live in different states now, and although we call one another to catch up every now and then, I haven’t been able to talk much since I found out about my genetic test. They’re both pregnant and excited about having babies, which leaves me feeling like the odd woman out.
Mom turns me around before I have a chance to bolt for the store. “Nos vemos adentro.” She kisses my forehead before locking the door to the shop behind her.
“I knew it was you! Only you could turn Main Street into your own fashion runway.” Alana Castillo, one of my high school classmates, waves.
Of all the people from my past I could have run into, Alana is the best option. Not only is she nice, but we actually got along pretty well in high school despite being part of different friend groups.
Nos vemos adentro: We’ll see you inside.
Her dark hair shines under the sun, bringing out the different brown tones. A tall, handsome, blond man beside her whispers something in her ear before taking off toward the Pink Tutu with her daughter, who is dressed in a leotard, neon green ballet skirt, and combat boots.
I fight the usual oppressive sadness as I force out a casual “Hey.”
You can at least try to sound excited to see her.
Alana wraps her arms around me and presses her cheek against mine. “How are you?”
“Fine.”
She pins me in place with a single, knowing look. “I see.”
I kick an invisible rock with the toe of my boot. “I’ve seen some better days.”
“Is that why you’re back in town?”
“That and my mom’s cooking.”
Ugh. I regret the words as soon as I say them. While I wasn’t able to make it to the funeral service the town had for Alana’s mom because of my filming schedule, I should have known better than to bring up mothers and cooking.
Her warm smile lessens my anxiety. “Not a single day goes by when I don’t crave my mom’s pandebonos, so I get it.”
“Those were the best! My mom still kicks herself for never asking your mom for the recipe.”
“If you want, I can teach you both one of these days.”
My brows rise. “Really?”
After living in San Francisco, I forgot what it was like to be surrounded by people who care. I was lucky if my barista spelled my name right, let alone asked me how I was doing because they genuinely wanted to know.
Alana’s melodic laugh could warm the coldest of hearts. “Of course. Anyone is welcome in my kitchen, so long as they’re not Missy.”
“Don’t tell me she’s still trying to steal your recipes after all this time.”
She lets out a huff of air. “That girl has been trouble since high school. She has good intentions and all, but she won’t rest until she wins a Fourth of July Bake-Off.”
“Dahlia!” Lily pops her head out of the shop. “We need your help in here!”
I offer Alana an apologetic look. “Sorry. I better get going.”
“No worries. I should get back to Cal and Cami before they get themselves into trouble.”
“Does that happen often?”
“Only when I leave them alone together for more than five minutes.” Her eyes sparkle.
I pull her into a hug. “It was nice seeing you.”
“Likewise. And remember that you’re welcome to come hang out and cook with me any day.”
“I might have to take you up on that.”
After an inventory count gone wrong, my mom ran to Lake Aurora’s flower farm, leaving Lily and me alone to finish up as many centerpieces as we can with the flowers we have.
“So…” my sister interrupts my mission to get through today’s tasks without thinking or talking.
I look up from my half-assembled bouquet. Lily’s eyes remind me of our dad, with the brown color nearly blending into her pupils. While I take after Mom with my shorter, curvier frame, lighter brown eyes, and softer features, Lily inherited her height, sharpness, and short temper from our dad. With genes like hers, she could have graced the covers of magazines had she not wanted to spend her entire life in Lake Wisteria, running the flower shop.
Lily continues when I don’t speak. “I noticed something interesting.”
“What?”
“You’re not wearing your engagement ring anymore.”
I swallow the thick lump in my throat. “No.”
“Where is it?”
“You’d have to ask Julian.”
“Excuse me?” she screeches.
“I have no idea what he did with it after he threw it in the concrete mixer.”
Her gaze flicks over the faint white line on my finger. “A concrete mixer?”
I can’t help laughing. “Yup.”
“Wow.”
“I know. Crazy, right?”
“Most definitely. But it’s nice Julian helped you get rid of it.”
“Don’t tell me you’re calling him nice now.”
She raises her hands. “To be fair, he’s matured a lot since you were both in college.”
I press my fingers against my ears. “I can’t hear you.”
Her eyes roll. “You’re a child.”
“What happened to the sister who helped me with recon missions to score some blackmail on him?”
“She grew up.”
I shoot her a look that she serves right back.
“Seriously. Why is he the enemy? And don’t give me some lame excuse about you two having a rivalry since childhood because I know it goes beyond that.”
I jerk back. “What?”
“I might act oblivious, but that doesn’t make me stupid. Something happened between you two while you were at college, so what was it?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re such a bad liar.”
I focus on the centerpiece. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You know you can tell me anything. I’m like Fort Knox.”
A whole minute goes by before I speak again. “We kissed.”
She squeals like a damn kid at Dreamland. “I knew it!”