Popster winks.
I groan.
Mom sees my hands trembling, and she reaches across the table to hold them. “Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea,” she offers.
“It’s a horrible idea,” I spit. “It was deceitful, Popster. I made a choice, and you disrespected that.”
He leans forward. “I won’t apologize!” He pins his eyes to me. “I’m tired of wasting time, Aspen. I’m tired of you wasting time. I’m tired of you moping around, stubborn as a dry booger stuck way up in your nose!” He pauses and then adds, “So why are you really upset? Because, the last time I checked, you and Ryker had fallen for each other.”
I swallow his words, and they twist my heart. “You let me down, Popster.”
“No, Aspen. You let yourself down. It you hadn’t been so bullheaded and determined to do every damn thing by yourself, you’d have seen his initial offer as a blessing.”
I’m confused. My skin prickles and my legs are sweating. Dammit! Everything was so perfect, and now it’s crumbling around me.
My mom tries again to be a voice of reason, her tone gentler. “Aspen, all these years, you’ve been so adamant about becoming financially independent, before letting someone into your heart or letting someone help. And I understood.” Her eyes fill with tears. “You’re doing it because of how you were raised. Because of me. But, honey. You’re not me. I married the wrong men, for the wrong reasons. I didn’t really love them. Not the way you feel for Ryker. Baby, it’s apples and oranges.”
They’re ganging up on me. I turn my head away. I can’t look at either of them right now.
“Aspen,” Popster says, getting my attention. “What matters more to you? Your pride? Are you too stubborn to see that maybe you were the one who was wrong? You were just scared when he offered you that money. Scared about what it meant. You didn’t even take the time to think about whether it was the right thing to do. You just assumed that you’d end up like your mother—for whatever reason, I don’t know—but that’s not the case. It’s not what happened.”
I exhale, still angry because of the deceit, and my body is still tight. They’re right about one thing, though. If they had told me the idea, I’d never have gone for it.
But things did all work out in the end, I guess.
Still. Deceit.
I slide out of the booth and shoot Popster a glare, but there’s no malice in it, just a blank expression, tinged with confusion… because I have no idea where I go from here. I snatch the quarters off the table, and as I pass my swear jar, I yell, “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
I throw the coins into the jar and storm out.
I drive home, and the first thing I do when I get inside is grab a bottle of wine and a package of cream cheese—my go-to comfort food. I don’t even bother with a spoon. I sit on the floor and lean back against the wall by Dagny’s cage while she munches on lettuce, none the wiser to what’s going on.
My phone buzzes. It’s a text from Ryker. My heart rate speeds up.
Ryker: I’m sorry, Aspen. Please come back.
Seeing his words of apology, I’m reminded of when he hurt me before, when his mom filled his head with lies about me. We can’t even go a month without something major happening. I’m better off alone. I tap my reply.
Me: Lose my number
And then I cry. I cry because I had fallen for him. I cry because we had something special. I cry because I’m confused. I cry because… maybe this was all my fault. I cry because I miss him, but I’m too scared to do anything about it.
I meander through the following days like I’m wearing gauze over my eyes. Nothing’s clear. Nothing’s easy. I try to ignore what Mom and Popster said, because it hurts too much. It’s not lost on me that I’ve withheld information from Popster about the cause of the fire, but it’s not hypocrisy. I’m keeping it a secret to protect him, not myself. So my brain buries that issue deep down.
I’m at the bistro Wednesday evening, making cherry pies for the next day, including the pie that Jessica will deliver with the quiche to Ryker’s office. I put the pies in the oven, and I clean up while I’m waiting for them to cook.
My phone notifies me that I have an email. I put down the rag and wipe my hands on my apron. It’s from Patrick. He’s emailing me to let me know he’s finished the website, and I’m reminded of how relieved I was to let Ryker help me with that. I gave him a hard time, of course, but I was grateful.
Then, I remember what it was like when Ryker held me and carried the burden during the fire, and also how I let him help me by loaning me money to get the contractors working. That was such a hard day, but not nearly as hard as it would have been without him
When Ryker and I made up at the Cherry Festival, things changed for me. I felt different, like I was growing. And before I found out about the shenanigans with Popster’s house, I was getting comfortable with the idea of letting Ryker be a part of The Rose.
I finish cleaning up, and the buzzer dings. I pull the pies out of the oven and place them on the counter to cool. I sit on a stool. I spin around and around, thinking about Ryker. Getting dizzy.
I stop and look at the pies, and more memories of us come crashing into my heart.
I think about it again, and an idea rings true… I’m a different person now.
A tear trickles down my face, but warmth blossoms in my chest. My fingertips
