Page 20 of The Break-Up Pact

“Ooh. This is edgy,” says Sana, snapping a few pics. “I haven’t dabbled in scone journalism yet, but there’s a first time for everything.”

Then she’s off as abruptly as she appeared, telling us she’ll be in touch about Date Two before disappearing with her camera like a digital media ghost.

“That was a surprising stroke of genius,” I say as we make our way out of the museum.

Levi’s lips press into a smile. “Might as well milk this for Tea Tide while we can. I’ve got a feeling this is going to die down before Sana can do much with those photos, anyway.”

I’m not so sure of that, given Sana’s internet prowess, but I don’t want to get my hopes up, either. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

I push down the burble of panic that’s been simmering under my skin the past few days. If it doesn’t work out in the long run, it’ll be nice for a break from the chaos, but there’s still the issue of the three months’ rent I’ll need to front to Nancy. Plus the changes I’ll have to make to Tea Tide on the other side of it, so we can sustain it.

But maybe this scone is a step in the right direction, even if we took a very strange path to get to it. Some progress in revitalizing Tea Tide. Shaking things up, just like Nancy said.

I pull it out of my bag and break it in half. Levi takes his portion with a dubious look, but does a little cheers gesture against my half just the same.

“Here’s to the flash in the pan that was the Revenge Exes,” I say.

Levi nods. “And here’s to never laying eyes on those terrifying carrots again.”

We both take a bite as it hits me—this little pact of ours will probably be over as soon as it begins. This morning was a blip, like stealing time back from our past selves. The scone hits my tongue, just as delicious and well balanced as I remember it being in the final test batch—made to taste a little bitter. Only right now it’s harder to taste the sweet.

Chapter Eight

“So about that Instagram,” Mateo says the next morning, leaning into the register to sneak a cup of tea before we open up for the day.

I snap my head up from Tea Tide’s register and say way too fast, “What Instagram?”

Mateo’s brow furrows. “The one you posted of the Revenge Ex scone last night?”

Oh. So not the private Instagram account where his students have been collecting pictures of his patterned sweater-vests, which I may or may not have wriggled my way into yesterday. (Mateo is aware of it. He’s just not aware that I’m aware of it.)

“Right. Yeah.” I stare down at the Revenge Ex scones in the front display case, all ready to go for today. “Well, strike while the iron is hot, I suppose.”

Mateo lowers his voice, his eyes soft on mine. “I was glad to see it. You were always so happy, coming up with those.”

I nod, still staring at the scones. At the SPECIAL OF THE DAY sign I’m using for the first time in two years. Late last night I finally took a moment to myself in the back kitchen and decided to commit to it—posting it on Instagram, serving it in the shop. It didn’t feel as much like leaving a part of my life with Annie behind as I thought it would. In fact, as I was watching the comments flood in, all I could imagine was her laughing her ass off about this entire thing.

“Yeah,” I say, straightening my shoulders. “It was about time for something new.”

Mateo gives me one of those quiet smiles of his, then taps his knuckles on the counter. “Speaking of desserts, you’re sure you don’t mind going to that cake tasting?” Mateo asks.

Mateo and Dylan already worked out the details of the design with Cassie’s Cakes during the last round of wedding planning—a three-tiered, buttercream-frosted cake with faint blue and yellow ombre tiers, the Eagles’ colors, decorated with red roses, both our mom’s and Mateo’s mom’s favorite. But Cassie’s flavors switch up slightly every year, and she’s about to close for a month to prep for opening a third location. Seeing as everything Cassie makes is delicious and Dylan and Mateo are both busy with prepping for an away meet and an out-of-town conference, they decided to leave trying the swapped-out flavors in the somewhat capable hands and taste buds of Benson Beach’s premiere fake couple.

Which is to say, this cake tasting with Cassie is more of a social call to catch up with an old high school friend, but it’ll be nice to touch base on Mateo and Dylan’s original plans before the big day just the same.

“Being forced to eat cake? To try a menagerie of delicious flavor combinations?” I ask. “It will be a miracle if I ever recover, but for you, Mateo, I will take on this burden.”

He rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “I was mostly worried about the Levi of it all.”

“Oh, he spends all day surrounded by desserts now,” I say, tilting my chin toward the back office. “The staff’s been desensitizing him. He’ll survive a little free cake.”

“And I suppose a cake tasting isn’t bad, as far as second dates go,” says Mateo innocently.

I look up at Mateo, bewildered. Sana hasn’t given us the heads- up about the pictures of us hitting the internet yet, so there’s no way he’d know we ever went on a “date” in the first place.

“A few of my students spotted you and a Levi-shaped person canoodling at the museum,” he says, dark eyes glinting.

I feel a twinge of guilt. I haven’t said anything to Mateo about my plan with Levi, and I don’t know if I will. If I tell Mateo, he’ll have to tell Dylan, and Dylan is so ridiculously invested in the idea of me and Levi getting along that I know it will only worry him to know we’re walking a strange line right now.

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