Page 45 of Last Slice of Pie

“As the crow flies from here to there, it’s not that far.”

“I know it’s not that far, but at the same time it’s just far enough to make this complicated. What then?”

Oh. So this is where she’s taking this—changes, sacrifices.

I defend him immediately, feeling my brows draw down. “Clearly, he can’t give up his career.”

Of course he can’t. There is no situation in life where this would even be a possibility. Also, if it came down to a choice between me and football, I already know which one he would choose. He chose it ten years ago when he left me. Football is his dream, it’s what he’s spent his entire life working for, and the truth is, he makes a lot of money from it. But, money aside, at the same time, I can’t see him asking me to give up my work. Would he? No. He knows how much Firefly Kitchen means to me. I start shaking my head, ready to argue her very invalid point.

“Are you saying I should give up mine? Because I’m not. I’ve worked too hard and I love what we’ve built way too much.”

Football might be his life, but making pies is mine.

I know it might not seem like much to most, but it is everything to me. Baking has always been my go-to for good times and bad. It’s a way for me to pour my heart into something I truly love and be recognized for it. I have so many memories with GiGi, so many memories with James and Bryan, and so many memories where I had to learn how to be alone and by myself. Pies have always been there for me, and though I will never make what he makes, that doesn’t mean it’s any less important.

“No, I’m not saying you should give it up. I was merely wondering how it’s going to work out.”

“Marie, it’s been like six weeks. I hardly think that’s long enough to all of a sudden be forced to think about long-term decisions.”

She sets down her camera and picks up her drink to take a sip as well. She eyes me across the room, and silence settles around us.

“Maybe you should be thinking about it. What would be the point of all this if there’s no happy ending together?”

Why couldn’t there be a happy ending? In most relationships, both members have a career. Sure, I would be lying if I said I hadn’t lain in bed at night and thought about our arrangement, but it can’t be that hard to figure out, and I can’t imagine I’m the only one of the two of us who would want to figure it out. After all this time, he wouldn’t mess with me if he wasn’t serious about me, would he?

I let out a deep breath and scowl at her.

I hate that she’s doing this. I hate that she knows me so well that she’s tapping into different fears of mine—fears of being left behind again, fears of not being important enough, fears of not being taken seriously. I’m already aware of the things I struggle with day to day, but I’ve tried to be rational and not so caught up in myself that I can’t enjoy the moment. I don’t want to get so bogged down by my own insecurities that I’m the reason I possibly miss out on something great—something great meaning him.

“You do realize he can’t play football forever, right?” I toss back at her as she sets her glass down.

“Yes, so then he gets offered some incredible position coaching for another team somewhere far away. What happens then?”

Who cares about then? I just want to enjoy now. I’ve wanted this, him, my entire life. Her trying to sprinkle the seeds of doubt isn’t nice, and she’s hurting my feelings, whether she realizes it or not. Can’t she just be happy for me?

“Why are you pushing this right now?”

She stands up straighter and looks at me, like really looks at me, and that’s when I see it: her fears. This conversation, although it’s leaving its mark on me and the bubble of happiness I’ve been protected by, it isn’t solely about me. She’s worried I will one day soon be leaving not only Firefly Kitchen, but her as well, and the success of this business is just as much hers as it is mine. I wouldn’t be where I am today without her, and vice versa; she wouldn’t be where she is without me.

“I’m not trying to push anything. I was just wondering if you’ve thought about it at all.”

“Maybe a little, but right now I just want to enjoy something I’ve dreamed about my whole life. You know this. You know how I feel about him.”

“I do. I do know how you feel about him.” Sadness drops onto her shoulders as a small frown moves to her lips. She thinks because I’ve finally gotten together with the man of my dreams, I would give all of this up, give her up, and that makes me feel like she doesn’t know me at all.

Then again, I’ve never really felt like people have known me. They don’t understand me or why I do the things I do, and mostly I’m okay with that. I know who I am, but that doesn’t mean I don’t worry.

How could she think I would give up my business, and for a guy? And if she thinks this, does he? Does everyone? Is he expecting me to just close up shop on everything I’ve built to chase after him to his promised land? Because I won’t.

Wanting to end this conversation, I leave the kitchen, walk out the back door through the mudroom, and stare out across the small garden at the oak tree. Confusion and unease have worked their way into my very happy heart, and this causes me to be afraid. I really don’t want to. I want to feel confident that this isn’t one-sided, but knowing him like I do and hearing Marie’s words is forcing me to pull off my blinders, and deep down, I feel fear.

The definition of fear is an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is likely to be dangerous, painful, or threatening, and he is all of these things to my heart.

I hate that she’s suddenly given me a reason to doubt this, to doubt him. I was so happy just a little bit ago. I still am happy, but . . . my mind trails off. While it’s upsetting that she second-guesses my long-term intentions, her questions have grown some roots. I’ve been so caught up in us, the newness, the excitement, the finally, that I’ve kind of stopped thinking about me.

Me—the one he had no problems leaving behind the first time.

Mistletoe Margaritas