Still clutching my phone, I typed another text to Ben, feeling awkward because I’d never begged someone for forgiveness before.
I’m sorry. I was wrong. You planned something special for my birthday, and I acted like a small child. Please, Ben, call me.
Ben’s absence hurt so much, it felt like my heart was stuck in the coffee-bean grinder at work. I needed him to call me, but somehow I knew he wouldn’t. Pride would keep him from coming to me.
A while later, I fell asleep with my palm massaging my chest where my heart lived, and my head pounding over Ben’s silence.
Monday, I pulled up to Hunnie’s shed, a constant punishing pain in my gut. I’d worked Saturday and Sunday, hoping for a glimpse of Ben, but he never showed his face.
Roderick bombarded me with questions about where I came from, what my parents did, and what life in New York City was like . . . until he noticed I wasn’t up for small talk. It might have been the death glare I gave him while slicing a piece of pound cake for a customer.
“You’re here bright and early,” Hunnie said, greeting me from her tiny porch. Funny how her she-shed was small in size but big on personality, just like she was.
I was wondering if there was anything notable about me when Hunnie shouted, “Wait until you taste this honey with rose petals. It’s going to go perfect with the pale pink cupcakes. That book cover was so much fun to work with.”
Approaching, I tried to smile. “It was a great book. Layton worked so hard to get Charli to like him just for himself, but then he realized he couldn’t force it.” I recounted part of the story To See You, leaving out how the characters finally got their happily ever after.
I crossed the threshold into Hunnie’s and collapsed in my favorite velvet chair.
“Here,” she said, spinning around from the counter. With a spoon of honey in hand, she walked toward me. “What do you think?”
Taking the spoon, I tasted it with a lump in my throat and tears threatening to fall. Thankfully, Hunnie was as talkative as ever.
“Colleen said Cosette’s is booked solid for Thursday. I ran into her at the Kwikshop yesterday. Everyone wants watercolor nails like Bubble Bath from Essie, and some shade of pale blue and mint green, specifically.”
I smiled, but it didn’t feel as natural as it normally would. I’d ordered some nail polish samples for Colleen of pale watercolor shades but never imagined it would explode like it had. I didn’t think Colebury had ever seen a manicure revolution like this.
“Hey.” Hunnie stood directly in front of my chair, hovering over me.
“What?” I looked up, swallowing the tidal wave of emotion about to pour from me.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, still towering over me.
I waved her off. “Sit down. You’re making me nervous.”
Clearing my throat, I tried to channel the emotional stifling my mom had drilled into me, but there was nothing there. Even in my reserves.
“Ben . . . it’s over,” I managed to choke out.
“What?”
“Stop saying what. We were bound to end. It wasn’t going to work.”
“Murphy, don’t say that,” Hunnie said, pulling her legs underneath her and throwing her braid to one side.
“We were—are—too different. I’m from a world so different from this one, a world I don’t even understand. There are spoken and unspoken rules, and no matter how hard I try to let them go, I can’t. Keep in mind, they’re stupid and ridiculous rules, yet I still feel like I need to follow them.” I paused to sniff back tears. “And Ben, he’s too real. Too good, too . . . too . . . too better for it,” I said, rambling. “I’m not even making sense, but you get what I’m saying. I’m part of one world, and Ben is too special for that world.”
“Zara mentioned your folks coming in,” Hunnie said with a frown. “I should have assumed it meant disaster. You didn’t say they were coming, and Zara said it felt like a surprise, even though she stressed she was trying to mind her own business. I thought maybe when I texted you a happy birthday, you would have mentioned their visit or what happened, or the cake Gigi made for Ben. She’s been waiting like a pig in heat to hear.”
“It was awful.” I proceeded to explain the whole debacle to Hunnie, ending with, “Now you see why I didn’t mention anything over text? It was better for me to say I was busy with work or whatever, because opening my mouth is a land mine of awfulness. Oh, and we never had the cake.”
I pulled the blanket out from underneath the coffee table and wrapped myself against the emotional chill.
Hunnie patted the blanket over my arm. “Oh, sweetie. That’s horrible, but your mom and dad, they’re something otherworldly. You’re nothing like them, and I’m sorry you need to deal with that. You shouldn’t. My advice is to break away. It sounds harsh, but my grandma, the one who called me Hunnie, was a wise woman.”
She gave me a wink, trying to make me laugh.
“Grandma used to say you need to evaluate what’s sweet in your life and hold on to it extra hard, even if it’s slippery. And when something is bitter, you toss it away like a spoiled lemon. I know they’re your parents but they’re bitter for you. As for you and Ben, I’ve never been in love, so I’ve got nothing for you other than he’s sweet, so you need to hold on to him.”
This actually made me laugh out loud. “Oh God.” I grabbed my temples, trying to massage away the tension. “I can’t believe you’re my boss.”
“Boss-ish,” Hunnie said. “After all, you’re only an intern.”
“Either way, this discussion is silly because we’re not in love. Ben likes me and I like him, but it’s just a thing. A fling for old times’ sake.”
“Huh-uh. You’re in love, honey.
