“I’m having flashbacks,” Evie says, slumping against the red vinyl seat of our booth and closing her eyes. “A sunny kitchen with gauzy curtains. The scent of chocolate in the air. A plate of cookies and a glass of ice-cold milk.”
“Don’t forget the radio playing in the background,” Stella says. “And the sound of Lulu’s mom’s laughter. I’ve never cried while eating a cookie, but I might cry right now.”
I laugh at my friends’ reactions to the cookies Willow and I made yesterday. They really are perfect, and I’ll admit I nearly cried myself when I took my first bite and was transported to the very kitchen Evie and Stella just described.
Willow and I made enough cookies to feed a small army. First, she walked me through the process, giving me tips that would result in the perfect soft-to-chewy ratio. After that, she’d had me make my own batch, and then we made several more together while Fergus sat nearby, watching and sipping tea. Willow deemed our cookies worthy of selling in the café and immediately put two dozen in the display case. They’d all sold out by the time Fergus and I left, arms laden with takeout containers full of cookies.
The girls and I normally meet on Saturday mornings at B&H Diner, but I messaged them last night to ask if we could move our weekly breakfast to today instead. I told them it was because I’d be getting ready for the party on Saturday and, while that’s true, I also needed to talk to them about Fergus.
“I can’t believe you let Fergus see that list,” Evie says.
“And I can’t believe he offered to help you.” The words are barely out of Stella’s mouth before she waves a hand and shakes her head. “Never mind, of course I believe it.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
Stella and Evie share a Look. “Sweet, unsuspecting Lulu,” Stella says.
“That man is head over heels for you,” Evie says.
Bea, our favorite waitress approaches the table with three plates skillfully balanced in her hands. She and her husband Horatio own B&H, where my friends and I have been coming to for most of our lives, first with our parents, then on our own. We’ve spent so much time here over the years, we’re like their honorary children, and Bea always knows most of what’s going on in our lives.
She sets our plates on the table, saving mine for last so she can meet my eyes. “You girls talking about that fine Scotsman? That boy has it bad.”
“We’re just friends,” I say automatically.
“Mmhmm. I seem to remember these two singing the same tune about the men in their lives not so long ago,” she says, jerking her head toward Evie and Stella. “Hollie too, come to think of it. How’s our girl liking London, by the way?”
“She’s loving it,” Stella says. “We’re going to video call her to check in as soon as we finish eating.”
“Make sure you flag me down so I can say hi,” Bea says, then turns her attention back to me. “There have been thousands of people in and out of this diner in the last handful of decades. It didn’t take long for me to become an expert at reading people, and I can read that man like a book. He’s as smitten with you as you are with him.”
Stella bangs her cutlery on the table. “Bea has spoken,” she says in a deep tone, then in her normal voice, “If you won’t believe us, maybe you’ll believe her.”
This isn’t the first time my friends have tried to convince me Fergus has feelings for me. While a small, secret part of me wishes and hopes it’s true, the bigger part of me—likely the part controlled by the gremlins in my brain—tells me it couldn’t be. If it was, why hasn’t he made a move? He’s had plenty of opportunities. And even if he did make a move, I have no idea how I’d react. I have next to no experience with dating and I’ve never been in a real relationship. Fergus is incredibly patient and kind, but could I expect that to extend to us dating and me wanting to take things slow because I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to anything related to romance?
“What’s with the cookie contraband?” Bea asks, spying the open Cravings container on the far side of the table.
“Louisa made these yesterday,” Evie says, nudging the container toward Bea. “Fergus arranged for Willow at Cravings to teach her.”
“He also arranged for a private carousel ride at the Village and an impromptu meeting with Mr. Hugh MacKinnon himself.”
At the mention of Hugh, Bea practically gets cartoon hearts in her eyes. “Hugh MacKinnon. That man is a dreamboat.”
My tightly bunched shoulders relax as I laugh along with Evie and Stella.
Bea recovers quickly. “What was the meeting for?”
“I mentioned to Fergus the other day that I’d like to consider working part-time in an office,” I tell her. “He arranged a casual breakfast meeting with Hugh and his wife yesterday, and I’m going to meet with them again in a few weeks about potentially working for them.”
A knowing expression passes over Bea’s face. She glances at Evie and Stella, who are wearing similar expressions. “Imagine that,” she says. “Arranging all of that for his good friend Louisa? Hmm.” She winks at me and flaps a hand toward our plates. “Dig in before your breakfast gets cold. I’ll be back in a few to check on you.”
While we eat, Evie and Stella talk about work. Evie is a realtor for one of the biggest agencies in town, and has gained some recognition after selling a handful of high-profile, high-dollar properties. Stella recently started working at FandomTown in the Village, which is owned by Leland’s sister Felicity. I’ve always enjoyed hearing Evie talk about work, and it’s been nice seeing Stella settle in at a job she loves and is good at, and where she gets to let her nerdy self shine bright for everyone to see.
Stella had been living in Toronto until this past summer; she moved there when she got married a few years ago, and stayed for a short time after her divorce was finalized earlier this year. Life wasn’t the same with her away all those years, especially since we suspected she wasn’t particularly happy. It took her awhile to return to her colorful, fun-loving self once she moved back, and I know the others are as grateful as I am to see Stella happy, strong, and living life to the fullest.
“I wonder how many times Hollie has called the center to check in,” Evie says after taking the final bite of her pancakes.
“Probably not as many as she’d be willing to admit,” Stella says.
“Or maybe she’s been so busy in London, she’s actually enjoying the break,” I say.
Hollie is the Executive Director for the Belle Vie Community Services Center. Until recently, the center was chronically underfunded and understaffed, and Hollie took it upon herself to do a variety of tasks that weren’t in her job description. During our second-last year of high school—the year my dad pulled me out to homeschool me—Hollie’s family went through a series of difficult events that left her and her dad dependent on the center. It shaped who Hollie is in a lot of ways, including a penchant for taking her job seriously and often personally.
“Are we ready to call her to check in?” Evie asks.
We move our empty dishes aside, and Evie and Stella squish together to make room for me on their side of the booth. Evie pulls up Hollie’s contact info and hits the video chat icon.
Hollie is laughing breathlessly and looking offscreen when she answers. She focuses on us immediately, her already huge smile somehow stretching even wider. “My girls! It’s so good to see you all. Spencer says hi.”
Spencer steps into the frame and waves. There’s a flurry of greetings on our end, and then he tells us he’ll give us a few minutes to talk to Hollie.
“How’s London?” I ask. “Is it everything you always dreamed of?”
“Everything and then some.” From Hollie’s dreamy tone and the way she’s gazing off to the side, it’s easy to assume she’s loving the person accompanying her as much as the city itself. “Spencer has been the perfect tour guide. He’ll take me to see a bunch of the touristy things on my list, and then take me off the beaten path to places locals hang out. We’ve crammed so much into the last two and a half days and there’s still so much to see.”
“All of your pictures have been incredible,” Stella says.
“You’re glowing,” Evie chimes in. “I thought it was a filter at first, but I can see now it’s not.”
Hollie waves her off, but Evie is right. Every selfie or shot taken with Spencer has shown her rosy-cheeked and grinning. I figured part of it was because most of the pictures were taken outside, but she’s inside now and her cheeks have that same glow.
“Love looks good on you, Hols,” I say.
I expect her to deflect or deny, but she simply lowers her head and laughs under her breath, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of red. When she decided to accept Spencer’s invitation to travel with him over the holidays, she’d panicked that it was too soon. They hadn’t known each other long and weren’t even officially dating until a few days before Christmas.
“It feels good.” She peeks back at the camera. “So much has changed in such a short amount of time. All that fear and worry I had before we left disappeared the minute we walked into the airport. Being with Spencer feels so right, you guys. I’m so glad I took the leap and trusted my gut.”
Emotion swells inside me at her words. Something about them rings true in a way I’m afraid to examine too closely. Thankfully, I don’t have time to think about it before Bea comes over to say hello to Hollie. We all chat for a few more minutes and then Hollie says she needs to go because Spencer is taking her to Hyde Park Winter Wonderland tonight.
“I’ll talk to you guys again soon,” she promises. “I love you all so much.”
Bea lets out a happy sigh as she straightens. “Can’t tell you how much good it does my old heart to see all my girls in love.” Her gaze swings to mine, a hint of a challenge glinting in her hazel eyes. When I don’t say anything, she looks far too pleased with herself. Letting her have this win is better than starting the ‘we’re just friends’ argument again. “Ahh look, if it isn’t another of my favorite couples,” she says, pointing toward the duo that just walked in.
Sylvie Bell waves and makes a beeline for us, pulling her boyfriend Cole along with her. They’re the newest addition to our ever-expanding friend group; Sylvie and Stella were friends in high school and they reunited recently when Stella returned to town. We all celebrated Sylvie’s thirty-fifth birthday right here in the diner last week.
“We were just talking about the party on Saturday,” Sylvie says. “Thanks again for letting me invite a couple extra people.”
“The more the merrier,” I say, which isn’t a sentiment I ever expected to pass my lips. “I’m excited you can come.”
Stella asks Sylvie something and they fall into conversation, with Evie and Cole chiming in. My phone buzzes in my purse, and I ignore it. When it buzzes a second time, I realize the others likely won’t notice if I check my phone, so I surreptitiously pull it out and find two texts from Fergus.
How many cookies is too many cookies for breakfast?
Never mind. If having cookies for breakfast is wrong, I don’t want to be right.
I glance up at the others, who are now deep in conversation. I type out a reply: We can be wrong together. I’ve already had three this morning…and then had a full breakfast at the diner.
Fergus: Atta girl! Hey, I have a question for you.
Me: Shoot.
Fergus: You trust me, right?
Me: You know I do.
Fergus: In that case, are you free tomorrow night?
Me: Wait, let me check my jam-packed schedule. Okay, yes. Yes, I am.
Fergus: All night?
This gives me pause. Free all night as in all evening because we’re going to be out late somewhere? Or all night as in overnight? I’d ask him for details, but I have a feeling he’d evade my question in favor of surprising me. I normally hate surprises; like many people with anxiety, it’s always manifested in a need for structure, details, and even control. I was being honest when I said I trusted Fergus, though.
Me: Yes…
He replies immediately: Great. I’ll pick you up at 6:30. Bring an overnight bag. xx
I tune back into what’s happening around me. Cole has disappeared, but Sylvie is still talking to Stella. Evie is watching me from across the table with that same small, knowing smile she wore earlier. I don’t even bother trying to hide my own smile.
“Fergus?” she mouths, inclining her chin toward my phone, and I nod.
As I sip the rest of my tea, I ponder what Hollie said about how being with Spencer feels right. Even though I’m still not convinced Fergus sees me as anything more than a friend, being with him feels right. He puts me at ease and brings me out of my shell. Maybe it’s time I pull a page from Hollie’s book and take a leap of my own.