Page 76 of The Break-Up Pact

He shakes his head, letting out a breathy laugh.

“When I first wrote it, I had this sense there was something wrong with it. I thought that’s why it needed rewriting. But I realized the problem wasn’t with the writing, it was just—it wasn’t me.” He looks right at me then, and says, “Or at least, it’s not anymore.”

“So you’re just going to leave it be?”

He considers his answer carefully. “The way I see it—if that book sells, and I have to commit to writing more books like it… I’m not going to have a very long career, because I’m going to be miserable for every second of writing those, too.”

Levi tilts his head at me with a teasing expression, like he’s waiting for an “I told you so.” And I won’t lie—there’s a part of me that is more than a little relieved at this turn of events. But there’s a much louder part of me that’s worried about where this leaves Levi.

“Well,” I settle on saying, “I’m glad that it isn’t you anymore. Because it seemed like a lonely way to be.”

Levi nods. “It was. I’m glad I had it to cope at the time. But I think that’s all it really was—just a way to get through it by trying to pull myself outside of it.” He tilts his chin down to level with me. “I don’t want to pull myself out of my life anymore.”

“So how are you feeling now?” I ask. “I mean, writing-wise.”

And now Levi’s teasing expression shifts into a full-on smirk. “You’re about to be a very smug woman.”

“Have you tasted my scones? I’m already a very smug woman.”

Levi leans in, setting his palms on the metal table to steady himself, a quiet electricity in his eyes that already feels like it’s humming in me, too.

“I read the notes you found on The Sky Seekers. And then after I finished the other manuscript, I sat down and read them again. And then I opened up my laptop and I just—” He shakes his head, laughing to himself. “It was like the words were bleeding onto the page. I couldn’t type them fast enough.”

A grin cracks my face so quickly it might split it in half. “I’m not going to be smug. I’m going to be insufferable.”

He smiles right back, but raises his hands up and says quickly, “Don’t get excited yet. I’m moving slower now. There are a lot of things I can’t remember. And things that I definitely need to retool.” He pauses for a moment, considering. “But it’s not like being stuck with the other manuscript. It’s a nice kind of stuck. Like before it felt like there was only one road I could go down, and it was a mess. But now it’s like—there are too many to choose from. It’s a nice change of pace.”

I nod, the grin on my face softening into a close-lipped smile. Whatever it is that’s crackling in the back of his eyes right now, I feel it, too. I’ve been feeling it ever since the truck hit the road and I started getting a front-row seat to people’s reactions to the old scone specials.

“It’s funny,” I say, “because weirdly, that’s how I feel about coming up with new ideas for scones. Like there are all these new ways I could go with them, but there’s so much going on I could draw from that I don’t even know where to start.”

Levi presses in close enough that we’re shoulder to shoulder and gives me a slight nudge. “Maybe we brainstorm, then. Help each other out.”

I’m quiet for a moment. Then I say carefully, “Maybe we do it back in our woods, the way we used to.”

Levi blinks, and abruptly our tone shifts from teasing to sincere. “Do you have any time today?” he asks.

My flutter of anticipation is so absurd that it feels like I stole something back from childhood. “We’ll probably drive the truck back to the lot around three.”

“Text me,” says Levi. “I’ll come meet you.”

As if on cue, Sana waltzes into the kitchen, hair pulled into her topknot, rocking the new apron she embroidered for herself that says SCONE DADDY on the front pocket. She halts the moment she sees Levi.

“Oh, he’s not allowed to be here.” She gestures at Levi with an open palm. “This is objectively too hot, and we don’t have time to shoot a scone-baking calendar right now. Out.”

“That’s not a terrible idea,” I say, looking Levi up and down. “Maybe he could borrow your apron.”

“Not on your life, September,” he says, the tips of his ears going red.

Sana jerks a thumb toward the parking lot. “But actually, you should jet. Dylan’s out front to give you a ride back to your place.”

Levi winces. “Next order of business—getting myself a car.” He looks at me pointedly. “Preferably one that doesn’t belong in a LEGO house.”

“Your disrespect for Bugaboo knows no bounds,” I say.

He leans in and presses a quick kiss to my temple. “See you this afternoon.”

Sana wiggles her eyebrows and hardly waits for the front door to close behind Levi before she says, “Um? Details, immediately? Also—and I cannot emphasize this enough—how dare he. There’s only room for one scone daddy in your life and that position’s taken.”

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