Never Getting Back Together

THREE

Here's the thing about Rosedale, it's so charming it should be annoying. But from the picket fences to the cobblestone streets that turn into dirt roads as they wind their way out of town, I'm completely in love with the place. It's predictable, and sure, it can be a little boring. But I'm here for it. In my opinion, people severely underrate the value of predictability. Clearly, they've never had to live without it.

I fell head-over-heels with this town the day Aunt Betty invited me to stay with them during my sophomore year of high school. After graduation, I moved from her guest bedroom to the pool house. I'll probably live there until I'm forty since the prescription I need to control my MCAS costs more than most people's mortgages, and my dad's insurance only pays for part of it. Forget renting a place of my own. Forget college. But honestly, I wouldn't leave Rosedale even if I could afford it.

It doesn't appear my beloved cobblestones feel quite the same way about me, though. The second I step off the sidewalk in front of Nelson's Bakery, one of the little monsters tries to murder me. I can't see where I'm stepping over my tote bag full of cookbooks, my Stanley cup, and the giant box of fresh-baked triple-chocolate-chunk cookies I'm schlepping across town. My foot comes down unevenly, sending me stumbling.

The bag of cookbooks topples out of my arms, and my Stanley hits the road with a clang so loud it's like someone rang the bells in the church spire. It rolls down the uneven street, making an unholy clatter as it goes. The box of cookies teeters dangerously. I have a second of pure panic, imagining a grisly scene of chocolate and crumbs smeared across the road before I manage to clamp my hands around it. The edges are crumpled, but it's intact.

After my Oscar-worthy exit from the party last night, I owe Liv more than a batch of the Paleo brownies I'm making for my baking class this morning. The triple-chocolate-chunk cookies from Nelson's are her favorite. Unfortunately, everyone else in Rosedale agrees. They rarely make it through the morning. Since the class I'm teaching doesn't end until after eleven, I didn't want to risk it.

Concentrating on not dropping the now-mangled box of cookies, I hoist my tote bag safely over my arm. I turn to chase down my cup and nearly smack into a t-shirt-clad chest that's entirely too familiar.

"I think this belongs to you."

I stare at the hand holding my hot-pink Stanley and groan. I don't know what I've done to anger the fates this week, but they definitely have it out for me. Because that hand is the same one that pulled me from the pool last night, and I am not in the mood for it.

No one should have to untangle their jumbled-up emotions over their ex before noon, especially if they didn't get enough sleep the night before. Even after showering, I was awake for hours with my skin itching and eyes burning from chlorine.

"I'm pretty sure what you meant to say was, 'Thank you so much, Ty.' An apology for pushing me in the pool wouldn't hurt either." Ty's lips quirk in a self-satisfied smirk.

"Wouldn't hurt you, maybe." I try to snatch the cup from his grip and almost drop the cookies again.

"Wow." Ty holds the cup above his head, out of my reach. "You really suck at apologies."

"You're one to talk." I glare up at him, squinting in the hazy morning sunshine. His white shirt clings to the muscles of his biceps. And lord knows why, but he's wearing an actual tool belt, which is slightly hot and seriously irritating. He's like the Italian version of one of the freaking Property Brothers.

I lunge for my Hydro Flask again, but Ty easily dodges me.

Heat prickles at my neck and chest. I try to reel in my irritation before I turn into the human equivalent of a lobster. "You know what, keep it." I spin on my heel and stomp across the street, ducking through the line of maple trees surrounding the park.