Page 36 of A Taste of Vanilla

We laugh until it turns soft and tired, fading into the hum of Penelope’s tires against the rough road.

Marley reaches for the radio, but I slap her hand away. “Absolutely not.”

She blinks at me. “Excuse me?”

“I choose the heartbreak music.”

“Halston.”

“I was cheated on. I have DJ rights.”

“You can’t drive while emotional and listening to Dashboard Confessional.”

I roll my eyes. “I can and I will.”

She shakes her head. “You’ll miss an exit because you’re harmonizing through trauma.”

“I will not.”

She groans. “You did. Last Christmas.”

“That was different. You know that ‘Vindicated’ came on. That chorus is powerful.”

I had driven past my own bakery.

She drops her hand, crossing her arms over her chest. “Fine. But one song.”

“Three.”

“One and a half.”

“That’s not how songs work.”

“It is if I unplug your phone midway through the second.”

I put on Fall Out Boy.

Marley groans dramatically but doesn’t stop me.

By the time we get back to Baltimore, I’ve stopped crying, but my eyelids are heavy.

The city looks the same, which is rude. Row houses, traffic lights, buses sighing at stops, a woman walking her dog, someone arguing on the corner like the world has not ended and restarted around the missing ring on my finger.

I drive past the turn that would have taken me to my place with Grant. The place we decorated for Christmases and hosted Thanksgivings while his parents were away.

My hands tighten around the wheel.

“Keep going,” Marley whispers. I do.

Saints & Sinners comes into view first, the black sign hanging above dark windows and old brick. Beside it, Bitter Bloom sitsquiet and pretty, the blue pastel trim glowing soft in the afternoon light. My chalkboard stands outside on the sidewalk.

TODAY’S SPECIAL:

BANANA VANILLA COLD FOAM LATTE

BECAUSE REGULAR VANILLA LACKS COMMITMENT

I had written that before finding out about my fiancé’s commitment issues.