CHAPTER 21

A Plague on Both Your Gingerbread Houses—

everything is just dandy until the roof collapses and the icing bag explodes all over your delicate trim

Morning baking duties with Albert are pleasant and relaxed. Now that we’ve gotten used to each other, he tells me stories about his grandkids, and I tell him stories about Spence. He’s the easy sort to be around who’s just as happy in silence as conversation, who laughs at his own jokes and calls his dough a cheeky little fellow.

When the hour gets reasonable-ish, I send Liv a text. It’s odd to admit, considering I’ve only been back a couple of weeks, but I noticed her absence this past weekend.

Me: Soooo

And to my surprise, she responds right away.

Liv: Good morning, gorgeous.

Me: Did not expect you to be awake.

Liv: Sleep? Me? Nah. Way too awesome for sleep.

Me: Well I’m glad you’re awake because I have a question.

Liv: Wow, this is a lot of build up. How bad is it?

Me: Haha. You tell me?

Me: Did you or did you not know that Wilder broke up with Kate when you made that bet with me?

Liv: Mmmmm. I like where this is going. Yes, I did know. But tell me . . . why are you asking?

I stare at my phone. Where does she get this level of confidence, and can I borrow some?

Me: And you wouldn’t consider that cheating on our bet?

Liv: Not even a little. Does that mean you’re admitting I won?

Me: Nothing is decided yet.

Liv: You know I’m grinning, right? That if you can’t admit I won after that booth Wilder practically killed himself setting up for you, then you’re in way deeper than I thought. Should I be picking out names for your soon to be children? Liv Jr. has a delightful ring to it, don’t you think?

I laugh out loud, earning a curious glance from Albert.

Me: Yes, he set up that booth, but probably just to ensure I didn’t murder him one fine morning and bake him into a pie. Besides, he was planning on breaking up with Kate before I arrived. That had nothing to do with me.

Liv: And what if he knew you were coming home when he made that decision?

I read her text twice. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t wondering that considering how close our families are, even though I would never have asked it outright.

Me: Did he actually tell you his breakup had anything to do with me?

Liv: Haha. Well played. No, he did not. But the circumstances are suspect.

Me: Shrugging

Liv: Grinning

Me: Are you working today?

Liv: Off for the holidays. Did you miss me?

Me: Like a lot.

Liv: Good. Put on your drinking boots, Maddi, because you’re with me tonight.

I hesitate, not entirely trusting myself to drink with her again.

Me: Count me in. But ONE drink only. And it’ll have to be on the 9:30ish side because I have some stuff I need to resolve with my kid.

Liv: Whatever you wish, madame.

Me: Text me the details.

Liv: You got it.

Albert and I take turns shoveling delicious treats into the ovens, and as the morning winds on, my thoughts drift to my dad. Not to say that I haven’t been thinking about him since the moment I set foot in Haverberry, but it’s mostly been an amorphous cloud of guilt and mourning whose downpour I was trying to dodge. Maybe it’s Albert’s age or the fact that he hums as he mixes like my dad used to, or maybe it’s just being in this space day after day. Whatever it is, I’m starting to see wisps of Dad here and images of me as a young girl bouncing from station to station, following him around and clinging to his every word.

Not long after Albert moves to the counter at the front of the bakery, I venture to Dad’s desk, sliding the middle drawer open and running my fingers over the stationery he always used. Inside still smells faintly of the lavender satchels Mom put in all our clothing drawers. I never asked why she put them in his desk of all places, but now that I think of it, it may have been Dad bringing a piece of her to work with him. He adored her, a type of love and dedication that should only be followed by and then they lived happily ever after. While I usually see her faults—her controlling perfectionism that bound me tighter than a straightjacket—he only saw her virtues. It used to upset me as a kid, the way she could do no wrong in his eyes, but as an adult, there’s something beautiful about the way he cared for her. And for a moment, I consider how devastating his absence must be for Mom, losing the person who unfailingly saw her as her best and brightest self.

I’m afraid I built Wilder’s friendship up in my head, telling myself that as long as I had him as a touchstone, I could weather the fallout my pregnancy caused in other areas of my life. But the truth is, we’re still shaky, me and him, and the pregnancy has made things infinitely touchier.

I’m showing now, and it makes going to school feel like I’m an exhibit at the zoo. No one has gotten used to it, least of all me. And the pregnancy hormones have me on edge and disgruntled. It feels like there’s no place I can simply be, and an insistent ache is forming in my innermost being that the town I desperately love seems to be rejecting me on some very basic level.

Here I am walking down the hall, just trying to get to my car, with people stealing glances at me for the five billionth time today. I tug my arms around my chest like a shield, trying to ignore the banners that float over my head announcing senior prom.

“Hold up,” Jake says, appearing next to me.

“I’m kinda in a rush,” I say, even though I have nowhere to be.

“Okay, then I’ll walk you to your car,” he says easily as though we haven’t had an infinite amount of awkwardness these past few months.

“Do whatever you want,” I reply.

“That good a day, huh?” he says like he can somehow defuse the tension by just being chill enough.

“What do you want, Jake?” I ask as we push through the front doors of the school. It’s one of those jarringly gorgeous May days, where the air is a perfect seventy degrees, the sun is warm and inviting, and the entire green world is abuzz.

“I just thought maybe we could hang out,” he says, and I steal a glance at him as I walk off the cement path onto the lawn. Despite my better judgment, I stop and look at him. “Just drive to the beach or something like we used to,” he continues with a shrug.

“Why?” I ask, not hiding my shock.

“Because I’d like to spend time with you,” he says, and now I’m really confused.

“Jake, you’ve been avoiding me like I was contagious for the past four months.”

He looks down at his shoes. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

My eyebrows shoot up like a warning.

“Okay, maybe I’ve been avoiding you,” he admits. “But all that stuff with our families was awkward as hell. I didn’t know how to deal with it, ya know?”

“Yes, I do. I was there. But I can’t not deal with it.” I point at my growing belly and give him a what are you going to say to that look.

He shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Do you know if it’s going to be a girl or a boy?”

I open my mouth, flabbergasted. “Nope.”

“Fingers crossed for a boy,” he says, and I’m starting to think he had a stroke.

“Don’t do that, Jake.”

“What?”

“That. I know you don’t want this. Hell, I don’t want it, either. But you’re going to Florida for college. Your life is proceeding as planned. I’m deferring Vassar and staying here.”

“I’m gonna be involved, Maddi,” he says, but the tone in his voice further betrays his hesitancy.

“How about this?” I say, not willing to be riled on the front lawn of the school, especially since people are not so subtly staring. “I promise not to lie to you, if you promise not to lie to me. One time offer. We don’t need to fight. But don’t you dare pretend that you want to be involved or that you want to spend time with me when you don’t. Because honestly? I can’t have one more person let me down right now.”

He scratches the back of his neck, considering it. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees but doesn’t deflate. “And as long as we’re on this honesty kick, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Go for it,” I say, even though I was hoping I’d be on my way to my car by now.

A smile appears on his face. “Will you go to prom with me?”

I stand there for a good three seconds at a total loss. “Wait, what?”

“I’d really like it if you did.”

“Jake, I—” I start, but he cuts me off.

“So what if you’re pregnant? You don’t need to drink. I won’t drink with you. It might be fun.”

I open my mouth and close it again, completely thrown. An awkward laugh escapes my lips. “I think you and I have very different definitions of fun.”

“Cheesy prom clothes, bad food, and even worse music that we can dance stupidly to?”

I give him the side-eye. Why is this not sounding totally insane right now?

“Look, I know prom is lame, but maybe it’s fun lame? And if you turn me down, that’s cool. But I just want to make sure you’re not turning me down because of these idiots.” He sweeps his hand at the lawn full of people. “Who can all stop staring by the way,” he says, raising his voice. “Yup, you and you.” He points around the green. “Can all definitely mind your own business.”

And for a split second, a sliver of weight lifts off my shoulders and I feel like I can breathe.

Jake’s gaze returns to me. “So, what do you say, Maddi, wanna go to prom with me?”

Which is the exact moment Wilder appears by my side.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Wilder says.

Jake takes a breath. “Actually no. I’m not kidding. And truthfully, dude, this is between me and Maddi.”

Wilder’s expression goes stone-cold. “Not sure where to start on that one, Jake. Except to say that there is no you and Maddi because you’ve been completely absent these past five months.”

My face burns. There is something shocking about hearing Wilder’s anger even though I said some version of the same thing.

“You really want Maddi to stay home on prom night while everyone else is out partying?”

I’m about to jump in and tell Jake to piss off, that Wilder has been the one and only person to stand by me through all of this, but Wilder hesitates and so do I.

“Oh wait,” Jake says. “You didn’t tell her, did you?” He laughs but it’s for emphasis rather than humor. “You’re seriously standing here lecturing me about being shitty while you keep your prom date a secret from your supposed best friend?”

My eyes flit from Wilder to Jake and back. “Wilder?”

Wilder shakes his head and gives Jake a look like he’s going to murder him. Then he turns to me, but before he says a word, I know the answer.

“At least have the balls to tell her you made plans without her,” Jake continues, and I can feel myself shrinking. “What did you say to Matt in the locker room today? That there was no way you could squeeze in his cousin ’cause your limo is at capacity?”

My chest constricts. Jake’s words grate on my biggest insecurity, a palpable fear that everyone has abandoned me and that Wilder secretly wants to do the same. That he’s being nice, but that it’s nothing more than good-mannered pity. And what’s worse is that he let me be humiliated by it, allowing me to think that the solidarity Jake referenced earlier was something Wilder and I branded. I suddenly feel small and unwanted, like I was living in one deluded reality while Wilder was solidly in another.

“Maddi,” Wilder starts, a conflicted look replacing his usual calm.

My temper flares. “Don’t,” I say forcefully, clutching onto my anger for fear that I’m going to crumble in front of all these people. Instead, I turn to Jake. “I’ll go to prom with you.”

They both open their mouths to respond, but I stop them with my hand.

“Now, I’m leaving. And if either one of you says one more thing about my personal life in front of this school, I’ll never talk to you again.” And with that, I storm off toward my Prius, hoping I get there before I start crying.