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Walking toward his car, unlocking it with achirp, chirp, he turned back to his ex and said, “Come see your granddaughter.”
While Nancy watched him with her head tilted and eyes narrowed, he slid into his seat and did what he’d been wanting to do all week, what he’d been telling himself he shouldn’t do because he’d been scared. Pulling out his phone, he pulled up Mira’s contact, and his fingers were sure, steady, not faltering once when he texted,
Cole: I visited my former favorite bakery today and was neither grabbed nor kissed. Very disappointing. Zero stars.
He hit send, started his car, and drove home grinning.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
MIRA
Mira’s phoneflipped out of her hands, landing on the counter with a resonantthud.
“Mom?”
“Mira?”
Ignoring her son and her mother, Mira stared at the screen, at Cole’s text. “He…texted me,” she said to no one in particular, to the dust motes floating through the air, to the ether that filled the spaces between everything.
“Who texted you?” her mom asked, spraying cleaner on the glass of the cupcake display before wiping it clean.
“Cole Sanderson?” Ian suggested, not looking up from his math homework. “The wedding date?”
Retrieving her phone from the counter, Mira said, “Um, could you guys maybe—”
“We’ll finish up here,” her mom said. “Go talk to him.”
Ian’s head snapped up. “Wait, you’re going totexthim back, right?”
“No, I was planning on attaching a piece of parchment to a carrier pigeon,” Mira replied flatly.
Pointing his chewed-up pencil at her, Ian said, “That would actually be preferable to calling him.”
“What?” She tried to take her apron off, only to get caught up in the strings. “Why can’t I call him? Jesus, what iswrongwith this thing?”
“Let me help,” her mom said, appearing at her side, setting down her rag and spray bottle. “You’re tangled.”
Walking to the door, turning the sign to CLOSED, Ian said, “You’re just, like, not good on the phone.”
“What are you talking about?” Mira asked, finally free of her apron.
“Well, dear,” her mom said, “when you’re nervous, sometimes you can get…”
“Yes?” Mira asked, incredulous. “What can I get?”
Her lips pinching in an apologetic frown, her mom said, “Chatty?”
“You talk too much about random shit,” Ian stated with far less tact, hopping back up onto his stool.
“I do not talk about random shit.”
“Hi, Cole,” he said, pretending to be her. “I planted sweet pea seeds today. Don’t you just love sweet peas? I get the seeds at Bud’s every spring. They’re so pretty. Do you like flowers? What’s your favorite flower?” He turned his thumb to the ground and made a massive fart noise.
“Listen, pal.” Mira jabbed her phone in his direction. “I only had that conversation with you this morning because it was too quiet in here, and sometimes getting you to say more than two words to me is like pulling teeth. But I know how to talk to men on the phone. I have great phone banter.”
They only stared at her until her mom said, “Oh, sweetie.”
“Fine,” she relented, throwing a hand in the air. “I won’t call him.”
