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I silenced that nagging little voice and tucked the crust into the pie tin, crimping the edges.
“To be honest,” I said. “I’m surprised you haven’t popped out a baby yet.”
Melody went still and slowly lifted her gaze. The corner of her mouth twitched with the smallest grin. I froze.
“Wait. Are you—?”
She held up her hands to stem my excitement.
“Don’t freak out yet. I’m not pregnant. But Will and I have talked about kids and we…well, we’re trying for a baby. We decided we want to keep it quiet for now though, so don’t tell half the town, okay?”
I swallowed around the lump in my throat, then I flung my arms around Melody’s shoulders. She squawked in protest at my dirty hands so close to her sewing.
My best friend’s life was blossoming so fully. She deserved every bit of happiness and more. With my thirtieth birthday just around the corner—only two years away—I couldn’t shake the feeling that my biological clock was ticking. I loved my work at the bakery. The owner was a kind old hermit who was content to leave every aspect of operating the business in my care. I practically ran the place on my own already, aside for the occasional part-time help.
But I wanted a family of my own, too. I wanted a husband and a herd of kids playing in the yard. I wanted to spend holidays in the kitchen with my children, teaching them how to bake cookies. As more time passed, that dream felt as if it was slipping through my fingers like water.
“What about you?” Melody ventured. “Has anyone caught your eye recently? It’s been a while since the last time you were on a date.”
I grimaced.
“We don’t need to talk about my love life. Do you have plans for a nursery yet? Have you picked out baby names?”
Melody narrowed her eyes and put her sewing down, fixing me with a stern look.
“Don’t change the subject, young lady.”
I groaned and returned to my position at the counter.
“There’s nothing to tell. I haven’t met anyone lately.”
The memory of Beau standing so close to me at my booth in the Farmer’s Market rose unbidden to my mind. The gentle warmth of his breath at my neck as he spoke. The low, smooth tone of his voice right next to my ear, sending an involuntary shiver down my back.
Have you changed your mind yet? About that little kiss I asked for?
I hated how my body reacted to Beau, betraying me. I couldn’t fall for him. He would only break my heart.
“What about dating apps?” Melody ventured. “I thought you were trying a few of those out.”
I wrinkled my nose.
“It makes me feel like I’m a cow up for auction. Not my style.”
Melody gave a thoughtful hum.
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with your parents, would it? I swear, they’ve set your standards sky high, Rory.”
I opened my mouth then snapped it shut again. My parents were the most romantic couple I knew. They had their first kiss at the top of a Ferris wheel when they were sixteen. My father spent months teaching himself how to carve just so he could make a bouquet of lilies—my mother’s favorite flower—out of oak, so they would never die and she could keep them forever. Forty years later, they resided in a vase in the middle of the dining room table so she could brag about them to everyone who came over for dinner. My parents still wrote love letters to each other as if they were lovestruck teenagers instead of in their mid-60s.
I shrugged as I slid the pie crust into the oven and leaned back against the counter.
“I don’t want grand, romantic gestures, Melody,” I replied. “Hell, I don’t even want one of those fancy engagement rings. Do I look like a diamond girl to you?”
I spread my arms, gesturing to myself—my frizzy hair, my overalls patched repeatedly at the knees, and my flour-coated hands, fingers sticky with pie dough.
“No,” Melody admitted. “Diamonds definitely wouldn’t suit you.”
“I guess…” I trailed off as I turned away and washed my hands in the sink. “I want a devoted kind of love. I want someone who will look at me with nothing but pure adoration in his eyes, even in the most mundane parts of life—like doing laundry, or making a midnight snack together.”
