Page 71 of 50 Ways to Win Back Your Lover

“No such thing.” I smolder at Delilah. “Beauty is meant to be enjoyed.”

She blushes the color of the raspberries in her hand. “They’re just missing these.” She holds the bowl of berries out to me. “You do the honors. We couldn’t have finished this fast without you.”

We’re Team Delilah and E again, and I’m pleased as punch, which is an expression I never understood. Does it mean fruit punch is so delicious it’s pleasing? Or is it a reference to the thrill of punching a jerk like Hugo in the neck?

I accept the berry bowl. “Can I make a smiley face with them?”

Delilah snatches the bowl back. “You just lost your privileges.”

I pout at Angel. “Mom’s being mean again.”

Angel cackles. “You two are worse than my parents.”

“Oh, we need the mint garnish too.” Delilah hurries to the fridge.

Angel quickly faces me. “I know I gave you a hard time when you showed up in town, but that’s because I love Delilah. She’s an amazing boss and even better person. If you hurt her, I will spike your food with laxatives, but . . .”

“But?” I ask, not keen on the idea of spending this weekend locked in the bathroom.

“But as long as I’ve known Delilah, I’ve never seen her this happy.” She bumps her elbow into mine. “You’re good for her, so consider me a fan.”

“That means a lot. I’m also a fan of you and your baked goods, and the fact that you support Delilah, even if it means dosing my food.”

Smirking, she points two fingers at her eyes, then points at mine. “I’m watching you.”

Noted and approved.

The second Delilah’s back, Angel grabs sanitizer spray. “Excuse me while I clean the mess we made so the cooks don’t sabotage our beautiful desserts.”

Pleased Angel’s given us privacy, I convince Delilah to let me help her line the raspberries on our tarts, perfect rows circling into the center. I’m glad I was here to do damage control. I’m happy Angel confirmed what I believed: Delilah’s been happier with me in her life. I’m also thankful I have more confidence than my seventeen-year-old self, who got flustered setting up our lovemaking scene.

“Delilah,” I say, my eyes on her beautiful profile. “We need to talk.”

She freezes, raspberry poised midair in her hand. “It’s a busy day, E. I have to shower and get done up, then make sure all’s good with the wedding cake and cupcakes and other desserts.” Hand shakier than before, she places the last raspberry in its home.

I take Delilah’s hand—my home—and say firmly, “We need to talk, in private, today. It’s time. I can’t keep pretending I don’t know you’re not engaged.”

She closes her eyes and caves forward. An eternity passes before she says quietly, “I figured you knew. You wouldn’t have flirted so much otherwise. It’s just been easier this way. For me, at least.”

“It was easier for me too.” That truth surprises me. The lies allowed us to slowly rebuild our friendship and spend time together. Pressure-free time. “But pretending you’re engaged isn’t easy now. Can we go for a walk?”

She studies our perfect tarts and wipes her chin, leaving behind an adorable smudge of flour. “Yeah, sure. You’re right. We can’t keep going on like this.”

Together, we set the tarts in the large kitchen fridge and thank the chefs who gave us space to work. We drop our dirty aprons and cloths in the laundry bins and walk into the beauty of this fall day. Leaves crunch under our feet, sunshine dancing in Delilah’s unleashed hair, the smell of fresh-cut grass and second chances in the air. We walk out onto the whitewashed dock, then sit side by side on the picnic table under the pagoda. The lake’s gentle lapping drifts below us, so much history binding us together.

I start at the only place I can. At my rebirth. “Lennon and I sat behind you on the plane.”

Her eyes snap to mine. “What do you mean behind me?”

“Like, in the seat directly behind you.”

“Oh my God.” She rubs her face, slumping slightly. “You heard everything, then—Hugo taking that job, treating me like I didn’t matter.”

“Everything,” I confirm. “I couldn’t believe another man was lucky enough to have forever with you, then I couldn’t believe he was stupid enough to throw it away.”

Rings disturb the water’s surface—a fish finding food, clueless to the humans baring their souls. Delilah’s jaw knots, then relaxes. “It never would’ve worked between him and me.”

I could tell her how much I hate him for making her feel small. I could write a thesis on the subject. But we’re finally being honest, and I need to understand. “Did you love him?”