Never Getting Back Together

TWENTY-SEVEN

I set the box of triple-chocolate-chunk cookies on the passenger seat of Betty's Prius before hurrying around to the driver's side and climbing in. I have a special delivery to make this morning, and Betty was nice enough to let me borrow her car. I rest my hand on the box as I pull onto Main Street. I'd really like to deliver these cookies in one piece this time.

The scent of sugar and chocolate fills the car, making my mouth water. Driving past the park, I notice that the rental company is already setting up the outdoor movie screen and projector. Thank goodness. It would be such a relief if everything went smoothly tonight. To say I could use a break after yesterday's mayhem is an understatement.

I'm doing my best not to dwell on how badly I blew my shot at the Happy Spoons Grant, but it's hard. My natural inclination is to fixate on an issue—real or imagined—until I'm satisfied that I can control the outcome. Trusting that everything will work out is hard for me, especially since I don't have a plan for how I'll be able to pay for my medications. Forget about launching my business.

But I'm not alone in this. I've got Liv and Betty, and I've got my dad too. Between the four of us, I'm sure we'll be able to figure out a solution. Or at least that's what I keep telling myself. It will take a lot of practice for me to stop living in a constant state of panic over the future. I keep catching myself starting to slip back into worry mode. But as Janet would say, you don't have to be great to start, but you do have to start to be great. And this is the beginning of an all-new Quinn, one who's less controlling and hopefully much less stressed out.

I turn onto the aptly-named Poplar Street. It's lined on either side with giant trees that cast long shadows across the road in the early-morning light. The air has that warm, fuzzy quality it only gets on clear summer mornings. It's peaceful and lulls me into a sleepy haze, making me yawn.

I didn't get much sleep. Trying to let go of my anxiety over my own future is hard enough. Keeping myself from worrying about Lucia's health is impossible when I have almost no information about what's happening. I was too emotionally wrung out to call Ty last night and ask him for more details. Not that he would've answered anyway. I understand why he didn't tell me what was going on. But I still wish he'd felt like he could confide in me. If anyone understands what he's going through, it's me.

I haven't exactly been making it easy for him to talk to me lately, though. I've been too concerned about whether or not he was going to break my heart again. I have a tendency to believe the worst in people. It feels safer to expect everyone to let you down, like it'll hurt less if you see it coming. But it never works out that way. It still stings just as much when someone disappoints you, and I know I disappointed Ty. I'm the one who owes him an apology this time, and I need to do it in person.

I park the car in front of the Rossi's farm-style house. Everything about it says 'home' from the yellow clapboard siding and cherry-red door to the picket fence. Being inside is like having someone wrap you in a hug. Love permeates every room.

Grabbing the cookies, I unlatch the gate and walk up to the door. My heart's humming, and I pause to gather my courage before knocking. I'm not sure what kind of reception I'll get showing up like this.

I take a breath and rap my knuckles against the door. There aren't any sounds coming from inside the house, and I fight to stop my mind from spiraling into what-ifs. What if Ty told his family I yelled at him, and none of them want to speak to me? What if something went wrong, and they had to rush Lucia back to the hospital? But after a few seconds, I hear the steady tread of feet against tile, and the door swings open.

"Quinn, what a wonderful surprise." Gianna holds out an arm, giving me a big side-hug and being careful not to smash the box I'm holding. I blink my eyes to keep them from welling up. I really needed that hug today. I didn't even know how much. Gianna pulls back but keeps her hands on my shoulders. "I'm afraid you missed Ty, hun. He already left for work."

"I'm actually not here for Ty," I say. I made sure his truck was safely parked outside the cooking school before driving over here. I need to apologize to him, but I have a couple other things to take care of first. "I was hoping to see Lucia. If she's feeling up to it, that is."

A somber smile stretches across Gianna's face, and her eyes spark with understanding. "Ty finally told you."

I bite my lip and nod. Ty must not have told his family about our conversation yesterday, which is a relief. I'd be humiliated if they all knew what a monster I was being. But I also don't want them to be mad at Ty for telling me about Lucia's situation.

"He did," I admit. "But he didn't want to. I um...I kind of forced it out of him."

Gianna squeezes my arms. "I'm glad. He needs someone to talk to right now. This has been hard on him."

My eyes drop to the ground, and I swallow. I know how much Ty loves his mother. I'm sure he's needed a friend recently, and I haven't been that for him. I might have plenty of reasons for that, but I still regret it. If I could rewind to a week ago when Ty first got back to town, I'd do everything differently. I just hope he'll give me another chance.

Gianna inhales and eyes the box I'm holding. "Are those Nelson's triple-chocolate-chunk cookies?"

A small smile tugs at my lips, and I shrug. "Of course. Only the best for Lucia."

"Well, you better get in here then." She steps inside and gestures for me to follow her. "Everyone else left for the day, but Mama's in the living room, and she's going to be very happy to see you."