Page 48 of Mom Com

“Don’t you dare try to diminish this,” Kate snaps, her voice raising and catching the attention of the people around us. “We’ve been dating for ayear; I know you, Wilder. Don’t think I didn’t just see the way you were looking at Maddi!”

Oh shit. No, no, no. There is a very long list of reasons that cannot be true. I take a step back, the crowd around us now definitely listening to Kate’s tirade.

Wilder’s face has gone stone-cold, calm in a way only he can muster. “I’m not certain what you think you saw, but I’m also not having this discussion with you here. This bakery is my business and whether you like it or not, Maddi is my business partner.”

“I’m just gonna—” I start to say I’m leaving, but Kate steamrolls right over me with an angry laugh.

“Business? You call some small-town nothing bakery yourbusiness? Your family owns half the town, Wilder. You’re aBuenaventura. Don’t pretend this matters. Call it what it is—dumping way too much energy into trying to fuck the one girl who got away. Watch out, Maddi, because as soon as he gets what he wants, he’ll move on. Oh wait, you already know that, don’t you?”

The blood drains from my cheeks and I open my mouth to tell her she can go screw herself, but I don’t. Because I’m not standing in the middle of the holiday market fighting over Wilder. I refuse. So, I walk away. I walk past them both and into the crowd.

Wilder calls my name, but I don’t turn around, all the joy I felt a moment ago trampled by what I always knew to be true, that whatever good this place holds, it holds more shit than it’s worth. My only regret is not asking Wilder for the will earlier in the day.

CHAPTER16

Apple Feelings Turnover—

flaky on the outside, warm and gooey on the inside, high potential for making a mess

My elbows rest on my knees, and my legs hang over the side of my bed. I dig my Christmas llama socks into the rug. But no amount of massaging my temples seems to be easing my stewing. So I stand up, shaking myself out, but the anxious buzzing in my chest will not subside. I just keep hearing Kate’s words over and over, like a mantra of my own foolish hopefulness. And the thing is, I don’t think I’d have cared so much a day ago. I mean, I’d have been pissed, don’t get me wrong, but having her say those things only moments after seeing the bakery booth was like a stake to the heart.

I know everything changes after a breakup. I mean, I’ve already been through that ordeal with Wilder. But I just didn’t realize how lonely it would be without Jake, how awkward I would feel in my everyday life. School now feels like a place I don’t belong. At lunch, Jake sits with some of our friends and Wilder sits with the rest. To Wilder’s credit, he offered our old table to me, but I refused it. It’d only make things worse, framing him as some sort of martyr. So I sit by myself, staring out the window and just waiting for the days to pass until winter break.

Unlike my weekdays, however, my weekends have been full of life. The holiday market is in full swing, and I’ve been working in our booth with my dad from morning until night. After school, I go by the bakery and help him with the extra baking to restock.

My dad wipes the counter clean around my mess, handing me a package of bags for the peppermint bark that’s cooled on the rack. “I notice we’re all on our own this year with the booth,” he says, like by not saying Wilder’s name he can ease me into talking about him.

“Uh, yeah,” I say. “I think he’s been busy with all his finals and whatnot.”

My dad nods, throwing a hand towel over his shoulder. “He came by to see me the other day.”

My head whips up from my bowl. “What? Why?”

Dad stands just a few feet down the counter, twisting the lid off the brown sugar container. “He wanted to offer his help, in case we were shorthanded.”

“What did you say?” I ask, my words rushed.

He pours the sugar into a bowl that is balanced on a small scale. “I told him you would let him know if we did.”

All the air leaves my lungs in a heavy exhale. “Okay good. Thanks,” I say, my heart decelerating.

Then in a rare moment of chattiness, my father continues the conversation, something that only really happens here in our bakery, which has some magical power to bring him out of his usual quietude. “I’m not trying to pry, but if you want to talk about it, I’d be happy to listen.”

The offer hits me hard. I’ve often felt these past few weeks that I’ve been silently screaming into the void and it’s as though he just heard my SOS. “Everything’s fine—” I say reflexively and stop, swallowing my words and the swell of emotion that follows. “Actually... everything isn’t fine.” I put down my spoon, my head hanging over my bowl. I peek in his direction and find that he’s come to stand next to me.

He places his hand on my shoulder. And even though we’re not a huggy family, I turn, wrapping my arms around him. He smells of vanilla and cinnamon, a scent he often trails through our house when he comes home from work, and when he hugs me back, I press my face into his shoulder like an old familiar blanket that has the power to blot out fear.

“I lost my best friend,” I say into his shirt, my eyes blurring with tears. “The one person who really—” I stop before I sayloved me. “And I can’t fix it. It’s just broken, smashed to bits.”

“Shhh,” he says against my head, his short beard catching in my hair. “He’s not lost. He’s still there. You’ll see. Sometimes it takes people a while to find their way back to one another, especially when they’re as close as the two of you. The more you care, the more you hurt. But I can promise you that one day you’ll look back on this and realize that it’s all okay, that everything worked out for the best.”

I nod against his chest, wanting to believe him, to bolster myself with the confidence in his voice and the sturdiness of his embrace. We stand like that for a long while, me crying myself out and him shushing away the sadness. It’s the first time since I was little that I remember him holding me like this. And for a moment, I think maybe he’s right—maybe the people who truly care about you do show up just when you need them.

My phone buzzes on my bed and I turn around to face it, fully expecting that it’ll be a text from Spence telling me to come downstairs. But no.

Unknown Number: Hey, Maddi. It’s Wilder.

I instantly look up and around my room like there’s a hidden camera and someone’s pranking me.