Page 33 of Fall Love

“Why can’t Danny handle the sale of the garage?” I whine.

“Because he’s a financial analyst.”

He already analyzed the repair shop’s finances and stated the obvious—we lacked funds and had no hope of finding more anytime soon. The bank wouldn’t give us a loan because of the reverse mortgage, which ran out a year ago. Essentially, the bank owned Rusty’s Wrecks more than we did.

“And we aren’t talking about Danny or his dad. We’re talking about Tate.” Lumi tilts her head. “He appears to care about you.”

“One hug does not make him care about me.”

Her gaze drops to my belly. “Well, more than one hug happened at some point.”

“That still doesn’t mean he cares,” I argue. He didn’t need to care about me to sleep with me and vice versa. But I did care about him, at least on a surface level, or I wouldn’t have ever been in the position I was in. AKA sleeping with him.

He’d been funny and attentive. He’d been kind but not overbearing. He stood behind me when I made that stupid wish that didn’t come true, and then he did all the right things in the Bronco.

He made me forget about the flip of the calendar and the dawn of a new year and the end of an era. At least for a little while.

“Maybe you need to give him a chance to care,” Lumi says, keeping her voice level.

“Or to prove I’m right.” I lean forward on the butcher table, my belly pushing against the sack of flour and nearly knocking it over. When I reach for the container, I bump into the cinnamon jar instead and learn I didn’t have the lid properly fastened when the spice spills out as the lid pops off.

“I’m a mess,” I whisper, feeling the all-too-familiar sting of tears. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately. I don’t ever cry like I did yesterday. And these additional sprinkles of tears here and there are getting downright annoying.

“You’re not a mess,” Lumi says, then glances around the mayhem in my tiny kitchen. “Okay, you’re a little bit of a mess.” She pinches her forefinger and thumb together. “But wouldn’t it be nice to have someone share that mess with you?”

“You’re only saying that because you have Saint now and you’re all in love.” I gag like love is the worst. They are a bit sickly as a couple. Always holding hands and whispering in each other’s ears. Sneaking off to another room to kiss. And taking these fabulous vacations all over the world.

I hardly recognize my sister. She smiles so much more than she used to.

It’s beautiful to witness.

Okay, yeah, maybe I want something a little bit like that, but I can’t have it with the man trying to steal my dad’s repair shop. Even if he’s not the one directly taking it from me. Just the middleman, so to speak.

“I’m saying it because I worry about you.”

“Pfft. There’s nothing to worry about here. I’m a big girl.” I run my hand over my belly. A grown woman about to raise a little girl alone. Sweet goddess, I hope I don’t fuck this up.

My mouth drops open to say something more when a knock comes to my front door.

Lumi and I meet eyes.

“Expecting someone?” she asks, knowing I don’t have a large friend group. I have sisters, and we’re tight.

“Maybe it’s Isolde.” She lives closer to the beach, where there is a stretch of cottages that have been recently renovated.

Before I can round the butcher table, Lumi crosses the short distance to my front door. She glances through the window before looking at me over her shoulder.

“He doesn’t care, huh?”

Then she pulls open the front door to reveal Tate Love.

“Hi.” He holds up a hand, looking sheepish but sexy in faded jeans and an off-white Henley. Another fashion statement. Another look that suits him.

In his other hand is a bakery box.

He might be about to ask if I’m in, but my kitchen is in direct sight of the front door.

Lumi steps back, sweeping her arm inward. “Come on in. I was just leaving.”