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“Where is Isla anyway?” Clove glances around. “I haven’t met her yet.”
“None of us have met her,” Cayenne adds.
They want to meet my daughter? Meanwhile, I’m worried I’m having some type of fever dream. Can a fever dream cause lasting damage? Do I need an MRI scan?
“I’ve changed the diapers of almost all the inhabitants of Winter Falls. Your Isla will be no exception,” Sage declares.
Diaper changing days are over for my daughter. “Isla’s eleven.”
“Eleven and a half,” my daughter yells from the kitchen. She can hear from a room away when it’s to her benefit, but when it’s time to pick up her toys? She goes deaf.
“Your next child.”
Sage is crazy. Straight up crazy. Do not pass go, proceed directly to the looney bin.
“There will be no next child. I’m one and done.” Being done with men automatically means no more babies.
“I bet Fender would make cute babies,” Feather declares.
I’m not having a fever dream but they are if they think I’m going to have babies with my grumpaholic neighbor. “Fender?”
Bryan comes to stand next to me. “Let me break this down for you.” He motions toward the ladies. “The gossip gals are the town’s matchmakers.”
“Matchmakers?” Do matchmakers still exist? And why does a town of slightly over 1,000 people need matchmakers?
He bumps my hip. “Yes, matchmakers. And they have decided—”
“We don’t decide,” Cayenne interrupts to say. “Fate does.”
Bryan clears his throat. “Fate in the form of the gossip gals has decided you should be paired with Fender.”
“Um, no. Mr. Grumpy Pants and I are not now, nor will we ever be a couple.”
He sighs. “Resistance is futile.”
“Talk to my parents. I will resist no matter how much resistance is deemed futile.”
He chuckles. “This is going to be fun.”
“There will be no fun because there will be no matchmaking. I have no intention of being matched with any man, let alone grumpapottamus.”
Petal grins. “I have some candles to make.”
“Candles?” Why is she suddenly mentioning candles? Maybe this is a fever dream after all.
“Petal makes sexy candles,” Bryan explains.
Candles can be sexy? “Excuse me?”
“You know massage candles, wax play candles.”
No, I don’t know. My experience with sex is embarrassingly limited. There isn’t much time for fun and games between the sheets when you have a small child to care for who thinks ‘stay out’ is the name of a game and not an order from her mom.
Sage claps her hands. “I believe we’ve given Ms. Wilson enough to consider. Gossip gals, move out.”
She marches to the door and the rest of the women follow her.
“I don’t want to be matched,” I holler after her. She flicks her hand before exiting the bakery along with her friends.
