Page 20 of Courage, Dear Heart

I smile. “This is not a date. I promise. I’m trying to save Jamie from a lifetime of terrible baking.” As much as I’d love to have a real date with her, this might not be the right time. Not after finding out about her husband and after Brock.

She lifts an eyebrow and nibbles on her lower lip, trying to decide. Jamie comes back with a bag of chips and offers me one. I accept it, popping it in my mouth.

Jillian picks him up and sets him on the counter. She looks at me and back at Jamie. “Elliott invited us to go to his sister’s bakery, the same one who made the flower cupcakes, and she’ll teach us how to bake. What do you think? Do you want to go?”

Jamie nods, a flop of hair falling over his eyes.

“Go, go, go.”Daisy squawks.

We both chuckle.

Jillian shakes her head. “Sometimes I swear, this bird understands everything I say. That or she’s the reincarnation of an old, meddling lady in disguise.”

“Daisy and Jamie say yes. What do you say?”

She sighs and uncrosses her arms. “When?”

“You’re closed on Sundays, right? I’ll talk to my sister and get back to you.”

“Okay, that works.”

“Can I have your number, then? So I can text. I don’t want to use your business number.”

She narrows her gaze on me.

I put my left hand over my chest and my right hand up. “Just as friends, I swear.” Did I lie right now?

NINE

Jillian

I twistmy hair into a high bun and shut off the tap, watching as the bath bomb fizzes and dissolves, sending trails of pink and purple swirling through the water. The rich scent of roses and lavender fills the small space, instantly soothing me. A glass of wine waits on the small table next to the tub. I set my phone on it and make sure the towel is within reach. I slide into the hot water, sinking down until it rises to my shoulders. My skin tingles as I settle, warmth seeping in, melting away the tension of the day.

A small part of me wonders what inspired me to do this tonight. A bath, a glass of wine—things I never do. But here I am, luxuriating, allowing myself a rare moment to simply unwind, to pause, and let the world blur away. There’s something peaceful, something freeing, about this quiet surrender. It’s like my body is urging me to lean into these small joys, to open myself up to moments of calm, of pleasure. And why shouldn’t I?

Closing my eyes, I can’t help but replay the events of theday, and, inevitably, my mind drifts to Elliott. I can still see his face, his serious gaze softening as he looked at Jamie, his expression so gentle and protective. And then that fierce look he gave Brock—a solid, unwavering wall between me and everything Brock represents. He stepped in for us. I’m surprised by the way my heart skips at the memory. He made it clear to Brock that I’m off-limits, and to me, that I don’t have to handle everything alone.

And then, of course, there was his talk of his “dates.” My stomach twists a little, wondering how many women he’s gone out with, women who are probably a lot less complicated than me. Women without a kid, without the kind of grief I carry. With his movie-star good looks, his charm, why would he settle down with someone like me? Still, despite myself, a small flicker of excitement flares at the thought of seeing him again, of the baking class, of sharing something light and fun.

Would he be there? The question bubbles up before I can stop it, and I almost laugh at myself. But that flicker of excitement stirs again, refusing to be snuffed out. When was the last time I felt this—a flutter, the beginning of something warm and alive, something that feels a little like hope?

I shift in the water, sinking lower as the bath’s warmth settles into me, the tension unwinding from my muscles, the calm enveloping me. For the first time in what feels like years, I let myself entertain the possibility—just the possibility—of something more. Maybe Elliott isn’t another roadblock, another frustration, but someone who wants to be here, with us, however messy and imperfect that may be.

It’s ridiculous, really. I already had my forever. I had it with CJ, and it was ripped away. What are the odds offinding that again? But the thought of it, the tiniest spark ofwhat-if, is enough to make my chest flutter. What if I allow myself to let this feeling grow, just a little?

I reach for the glass of wine and take a sip, savoring the rare indulgence, letting it warm me from the inside. A small smile tugs at my lips as I imagine Elliott standing in that baking class, sleeves rolled up, laughing with Jamie.

My phone pings. I dry my hands and grab it. A text message from Elliott.

I tap my phone to open the app and read it.

Elliott: Morning person or night owl?

“Huh?”Why is he asking me this?I ignore his message and text Sheila instead.

Jillian: Elliott just texted me asking if I’m a morning person or a night owl. What do I do?

Sheila: Duh. Answer him.

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