Page 6 of How to Break My Heart
“In love?” Billie laughs, closing the display to avoid any uninvited visitors. Given that we live in a small town surrounded by woods, pesky little suckers love our sweet treats. “I love this day. There’s something in the air—”
“Denial?” I cut her off.
Billie places the tongs back and then rests her hand on my shoulder. “It’s time to start dating again. When was the last time you went on arealdate?”
I scrunch my nose. Dating isnoton my vision board and therefore isn’t something I’m actively pursuing.
The last guy, Henry, was, um… nice.
That’s just it—nice.
He would politely open the door, pull out my chair, and do everything to show he respected women. But, when it came to conversation, he was the single most boring person I have ever had the misfortune of dining with. I almost fell asleep during our second dinner date from all the wine I drank just so I could power through.
“Months, maybe. I’ve stopped counting,” I mumble, finally answering her question.
“So, what you’re trying to say is you’re not getting laid, hence the attitude today?”
Billie is as laid-back as they come. We met in college when she was assigned to my room at the last minute. Maddy had been so indecisive about joining me at Cornell—she’d always wanted to study in California. It boiled down to this—separation anxiety. So, after many tears from Maddy and lots of reassurance from me that we would still be best friends, we took the leap and wentour separate ways, so to speak. Insert me, an empty dorm room, and Billie, who coincidentally grew up just a couple of towns over from Cinnamon Springs.
I warmed up to her quickly. She loved to bake, and so did I, even though I wasn’t as good as Billie, so our room was filled with all sorts of mini appliances as we experimented with different recipes. We quickly became the hit of the building, especially with the late-night-munchies crowd—though we did get a few warnings for pushing the limits of the fire code.
Thankfully, nothing ever burned down—though I am pretty sure the fire warden developed a nervous twitch.
With our love of baking and my business degree, it was a no-brainer—we set out to open our own café, Donuts Ever After. We put together a business plan and went to the bank for a loan after graduating from Cornell, but then Billie’s mom was diagnosed with a rare heart disease and needed immediate medical treatment. It meant Billie had to move back home to care for her mom physically and financially.
Our dream was put on hold.
But as if the universe knew we needed a lucky break, my parents decided to sell a piece of land they owned in Wyoming and gifted me and my brother a share of the profits. It was enough to start the café and hire Billie as a baker. It suited us both. She didn’t need the added pressure of investing in a business, especially with her mother’s medical bills piling up, and I needed her because she was a superstar in the kitchen. Without her recipes, we would have served only coffee and iced tea. Sure, I could bake, but no way was I as good as Billie.
The perfect place presented itself—Cinnamon Springs, where I spent most of my teenage years. It never occurred to me to go back, given I’d moved away for college.
My parents have always enjoyed being on the road. Growing up, we moved every few years, somehow making a journey across the country until one day my dad heard about this townthat needed a horticulturist to focus on crop cultivation. It was kind of perfect in the end. Dad settled into a job he loved, and Mom worked the farmers markets every week. They would sell organic fruits and vegetables from our property, and quite often, Mom would bake cookies to give to the kids who accompanied their parents.
We moved to Cinnamon Springs when I started middle school. Of course, it didn’t take long for my parents to get itchy feet again. After a lot of tears and begging, they agreed to stick it out until I finished high school.
Since then, my parents moved and my brother left for Europe, but something always pulls me back here. I’m not even mad about it. The moment my parents drove down Main Street all those years ago, I knew this place had something special. I still remember gazing out the window and admiring all the cute little storefronts. It looked like a movie set. Cinnamon Cones, home of the best ice cream in town; Betty’s Bookshelf, the most popular bookstore within a twenty-mile radius; and the diner on the corner called Happy Days. Later, I learned it was owned by a couple who, no surprise, were obsessed with the TV showHappy Days. The husband, Al, even wore a leather jacket and styled his hair like Fonzie. Mom had to explain about the TV show since it aired well before my time—and when I saywell before, I mean decades.
It all feels like a lifetime ago now.
Bringing myself back to the present, I turn to Billie with a grin. “A girl can please herself,” I remind her.
“Sure, but a hot guy can do it better.”
I purse my lips, crossing my arms beneath my chest. “And where are the hot guys?”
Billie shrugs. “Not in this town, that’s for damn sure.”
We both find ourselves in this sudden slump, thanks to me. Billie is a beautiful woman, so it surprises me she’s single. Guys always lavish attention on her. It’s the ginger-colored hair, which falls effortlessly down her back like she’s a modern-day Rapunzel,but instead of being trapped in a tower, she works for a grump in a donut shop.
That grump beingme.
I’m not usually a pessimist, but this winter feels different. And not necessarily in a good way. The picturesque snow only reminds me of the wet puddles customers drag into the store. The hot chocolate I usually devour tastes too sweet, especially when you add marshmallows. And everyone knows they’re the best part.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately. It’s almost like all my dreams have been put on hold for no other reason but time. It gets away from me and refuses to stand still so I can just have a moment to breathe.
All this and it’s only February. The hype of New Year’s resolutions is fading into the distance along with my love of this cold season.
A chair creaks, and my attention shifts back to the couple. The guy leans in, whispers something into the woman’s ear before she giggles again and runs her high-heeled shoe up his leg.
