Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
“And you did all that,” she says.
“Back then, I wondered a few times if I should have taken a year off, but I also knew that wasn’t realistic. I’m so glad she didn’t argue when I wanted her to move onto my property, so I could look out for her. I know I’ve said it was tough, everything she went through, but it was also a privilege, you know? To spend that time with her—to take care of her when she needed it. But also, just to see her. To have her nearby. For me, and for Charlotte, and for Mom.”
Mabel’s eyes shine. “A lot of people don’t do what you did.”
“I can’t imagine doing anything else.”
Mabel lifts a hand and squeezes my arm. “You did enough.”
I nod, keeping the emotions at bay. “I think so too. It’s a relief to feel that way,” I say, weaving in a few more strands. “And I’m glad we started the bakery. She would have wanted that.”
“She would have loved it, Corbin,” Mabel says, still a little choked up.
My throat tightens as I finish her braid while thinking about the past until I wrap the scrunchie around the end of her hair. I’d rather focus on the present. “Beautiful,” I murmur, then kiss the top of her head.
She sighs softly, and I want to capture that sound, listen to it again and again.
Instead, I let go of her, move around the bench, and sit next to her. “For what it’s worth I do think you give your all to Afternoon Delight, and I seriously appreciate it.”
“Thanks. Sometimes I feel like…like whatever I have to give isn’t the right amount.” She meets my gaze and something deeply vulnerable passes in those lovely brown eyes of hers. “Like I never have quite the right amount of whatever it is that I need to succeed. Whether it’s in business or romance. But with Afternoon Delight, I finally feel like maybe I have the right amount of me for the recipe of the store.” She laughs self-deprecatingly. “It’s ridiculous.”
“It’s not in the least ridiculous.” I set a hand on her thigh, squeezing it. “It would sound really trite to say you’re enough. But I mean it. You are entirely the right amount of you.”
I want to add—for me. You’re the right amount of you for me. But that’s not what this moment is about.
“Thank you. But that’s also why I decided to take a break from romance. I’m not sure I can do all that and be in a relationship at the same time,” she says, with a wistful shrug, like she wishes it were different maybe.
A part of me wishes she wanted to date right now. That I could tell her how I’m feeling. That I could tell her brother too. That I could be the one to be good to her.
But I don’t want to get in the way of her dreams since I feel the same about the bakery too.
“It’s hard to balance it all,” I say, thinking back on my own romantic past with its lackluster colors. “I dated this one woman on and off for a few years. It wasn’t serious, but I don’t know that I ever really gave all of myself to it either. Maybe because I was so focused on hockey or my mom or Charlotte.”
“You have a lot of demands in your life. It’s hard to know how much you can give to a romance, don’t you think?”
Maybe I held back with Eliza. But maybe she just wasn’t the right person for me. “It is,” I say, taking the easy way out of that question.
We’re silent for a beat or two as a cool breeze drifts by, a reminder that it’s December in California. “Was it hard to be in a relationship though because of your mom and your focus on her?”
Way to see right through me. My throat tightens but I swallow down some of my emotions so I can answer. “Maybe it was. Parkinson’s is, well, to state the obvious, it’s rough. Maybe I held back with Eliza because I didn’t know if I had anything left for her. It wasn’t fair.” I scrub a hand across my neck, then blow out a breath as if letting something go. I meet Mabel’s gaze. “I hope I’m contributing enough to the store.”
“You are,” she says, then she reaches for my hand and squeezes it. “And I’m pretty sure you gave enough to your mom as well.”
I wasn’t looking for some sort of validation of the past, but maybe I needed it. “Thanks. I think so too.”
She looks around the courts, then back to me with an amused sigh. “We’re not really doing the one-time-only thing very well, are we?”
I laugh. “Oh, we are definitely not doing the one-time-only thing well at all.”