Page 60 of Mom Com

Her words hit me hard, like a sweep to the legs I never saw coming. And I find myself blinking away moisture in the corners of my eyes.

My phone buzzes then. Three times in a row. I pull it out of my pocket, hoping to distract myself from the sudden emotion.

Jake: Uh, Maddi... is there something you forgot to tell me?

Jake: Something big?

Jake: Something about the bakery?

For a split second, I panic, like somehow everyone already knows about the confusing feelings I’ve been having for Wilder. But an instant later, I realize what he’s saying.

Me: Do you mean the inheritance?

Jake: I do.

Jake: But what I’m wondering is why you didn’t tell me yourself.

I can’t tell over text what his tone is, but I know if our positions were reversed, I’d be a little miffed. I’m just not used to including him in my life that way, not that that’s an excuse.

“Mom?” Spence says, and I realize he must have said my name more than once. Both he and my mother are staring at me.

“Sorry. I was just answering a message.”

“From Dad?” Spence says. “What did he say?”

Shit. He must have seen my phone. “He just wants to ask me about something. I’ll be back in a sec.” I get up and walk out of the kitchen before either of them can object. I grab my coat from the closet and step onto the stoop, pressing send on Jake’s name. He answers on the first ring.

“Well, hey there,” he says, and it sounds like I’m on speakerphone in his truck.

“Hey,” I reply, slipping my arms into my coat sleeves. “So, about the bakery... What did you hear exactly?”

“That your father left it to youand Wilder? And that you’re moving back here?” he says, and even over the phone I can hear he has mixed feelings about it.

“That’s partly true,” I say, walking down the driveway.

“Which part?” he asks, but before I can answer, he adds, “Are you home? You sound like you’re outside.”

I nod like he could see the gesture. “I’m standing in my driveway.”

“Oh, got it. So, this truth...”

I walk along the edge of the plowed snow. “Well, my dad did leave the bakery to me and Wilder. And his will does specify that we have to work there for a year full-time, but I’m not sure I’m moving back.”

“Huh,” is all he says, and goes quiet for a few seconds. “Why?”

I shrug. “Because I like our life in California, and I’m not certain I want to upend it.” But the truth is even if I were willing to, even if I could get past the tangle of emotions I feel about my father’s bakery, living in the one place I know I’ll never be enough is not something I can do.

Only instead of answering, his truck pulls into Mom’s driveway. I can’t help it; I panic a little. I went outside to bring this conversation away from the house, not draw him closer.

I find Jake on the football field after school, throwing a ball with a few of his buddies. And in a way it seems fitting—I’ve become a high school cliché in every way.

He sees me coming, but he doesn’t pause his game. Even when I stop right next to him, he doesn’t acknowledge me.

“Jake,” I say, “I need to talk to you.”

He tosses the ball, barely glancing at me. “I wouldn’t stand there if I were you. Benny has shit aim. He might bean you.”

“I’m serious. I need to talk to you,” I say, not impressed with his attempt to ignore me, and also not blaming him for it.