Page 2 of Spicy or Sweet
“Gimme,” I say, holding my arms out toward my uncle Henry—Sunny’s dad, and Rora’s boyfriend. It’s been almost two years since my best friend asked me for permission to seduce my uncle, and saying yes might just be the best thing I’ve ever done. They’re a perfect match, and they made a damn cute baby.
Uncle Henry snorts, but hands Sunny over. “Nice to see you too.”
I ignore him, cuddling her to my chest and kissing the top of her head as I sink onto their plush couch. She babbles at me, and I melt. It’s amazing how fast she’s growing—a couple of weeks ago, she was silent. Now, she’s cooing and giggling happily whenever I see her.
“And how is my favorite girl in the whole world tonight? Did you have a good day, Sunny girl?”
“I remember when I used to be your favorite,” Rora says, sitting beside me and tucking her legs under herself.
I nod toward my uncle Henry. “You’re his favorite now.”
Rora looks fondly at him. “I reckon it’s a tie between me and Sunny these days,” she says before turning back to me. “You okay? You look tired.”
“Of course. I’m fine!” I feign a bright smile—badly, if Rora’s raised brow is anything to go by.
“Noelle.”
“Ugh. How am I this much of a mess when you’re so put together three months after giving birth?”
You’d never know Rora had a newborn. She’s always had a seemingly effortlessly together vibe, and that hasn’t changed since becoming a mom. She’s as gorgeous as ever, looks perfectly rested, her green eyes bright and alert. I know it’s probably not as it seems—raising a whole human is no easy feat, and I have no doubt her world shifted on its axis the second she got the positive test—but she’s doing an amazing job. They both are—my uncle Henry’s always wanted to be a dad, and he and Rora really are the perfect combination.
“Seriously, how are you both managing so well with everything?” I don’t love how exhausted I sound. I squeeze Sunny a little tighter, breathing in her perfect, soft baby scent.
“We’re not. Henry wakes up every hour through the night just to check that Sunny hasn’t magically disappeared, I cry multiple times a day, and I go through a can of dry shampoo every week,” Rora replies matter-of-factly, and I widen my eyes over the top of Sunny’s head.
“But you seem so okay.”
She shrugs. “I promise you don’t want details of what we’re doing for stress relief. But on that note, when was the last time you hooked up with someone?”
Jesus. Rora is nothing if not blunt—and correct. I don’t want details.
“This feels like a conversation I don’t want to be here for.” My uncle Henry stands and reaches for Sunny, but I hold her close to my chest.
“It’s girl talk. Sunny can stay.”
He holds up his hands. “Noted. Did you eat dinner?”
“I’m fine,” I answer immediately. I was lucky to make time for breakfast this morning.
“That’s not a yes. I’m making food,” he says, heading into the kitchen and ignoring my protests. God knows they have enough on their plate without worrying about me.
Rora nudges me with her foot. “Let him. He likes to fuss. Now talk. What’s going on with you?”
I groan and lean back against the arm of the couch. Sunny nestles her head against my shoulder, her eyes drooping. She’s so fucking cute.
“I’m just worn out.” I’m underselling it, but I don’t know how to describe the bone-deep burnout. “I’m working like a hundred hours a week, and I haven’t taken time off in ages. And to answer your question: fuck knows when I last got laid. I haven’t had time to go to Jackson in months.” I’m not against meeting people in Wintermore, but this is a small town, and the number of queer women—let alone single queer women—is slim. Sure,tourists come and go, but it’s not like I’m hanging out at either of the local bars. How would I meet someone?
“Maybe it’s time to hire a couple new people for the bakery,” Rora suggests, and I know she’s right, but there are a finite number of people with experience in Wintermore. Besides, the thought of handing over control to anyone makes me itchy. I’m running out of other options, though. Especially with our busy season approaching.
“As for getting laid, it’s the twenty-first century, Noelle. Download a dating app. You can either find tourists in town or match with people in Jackson who are willing to come here. It’s not that far.”
“I don’t know. Aren’t dating apps for dating? I don’t have time for that.”
“You can say on your profile that you’re not looking to date. Give me your phone.”
“Now?”
“The tension in your spine isn’t healthy. We have to do something about it,” Rora replies, shaking her head as I hand my phone over.
