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“Do you want to talk in the morning when you’re sober?” he suggests.
“No, Colin. I don’t want to talk in the morning when I’m sober.” I mimic his voice, and this conversation is definitely going off the rails. “I’m breaking up with you.”
Silence meets me on the other side as I manage not to fumble any of those words.
“Was that clear enough for you?” I ask.
“Let’s talk in the morning,” he repeats.
“No, Colin. You’re in Chicago. I’m in Vegas. We want different things out of life.”
“So you’re throwing away five amazing years because you drank too much?” he asks. “Let’s see if you feel the same way tomorrow.”
“I’ve felt this way a long time. Yesterday, the day before. The month before. Hell, maybe even for an entire year. We were happy when we lived in the same place, and things were good, and they’re just…not anymore. So I’m done, and you’re free to move on and find a nice lady to settle down with who wants to be in Chicago, but I for one want nothing to do with snowy winters and windy cities even if they turn the river green for St. Patty’s Day.” I’m rambling, and I need to stop rambling, but it’s vodka-fueled rambling so there’s a real fat chance it’ll stop anytime soon.
He sighs. “You’ve really felt this way for that long?”
“I really have,” I confirm.
Kelly isn’t laughing anymore. Instead, she’s looking at me with wide eyes as she watches me break up with someone else.
“Drunk or not, Colin, this isn’t working for me anymore, and I think it’s best if we call it quits.” My voice is firm. Resolute, even. I think. It’s possible I’m delusional right now, too.
“Okay, then. I guess…I guess I’ll talk to you soon.”
“I guess so, Colin. Bye.” I hang up, not sure what soon means or when we’ll actually talk again.
And as I end the call and hold my phone in my palm, I feel…free.
For the first time in five years, I feel free.
All the things I’ve put on hold, all the sacrifices I’ve made…I can do what I want now.
When I wake up in the morning, I might be sad. I might feel like I just lost my best friend. But the truth is that we were over a long time ago, and he hasn’t been a very good friend to me since he moved to Chicago. We moved to a spot of complacency, and I refuse to live there anymore. I deserve better.
“You okay?” Kelly asks me as I stare at my phone.
I set it down beside me, and I glance up at my friend. I nod, my brows crinkling together. “Yeah. Oddly, I feel fine. I feel like I should be sad or upset, but I’m not. Instead, I feel like…like…” I slap a hand over my mouth. I can’t seem to finish that sentence, but I feel like I’m going to throw up.
I rush to the bathroom. As I expel the vodka from my system, I know the cause is the amount of alcohol I drank, not the breakup.
It’s been years since I drank enough to get sick, but here we are. I don’t usually drink this much, but tonight, I just wanted to let loose with my best friend. And getting it out now will help me feel better in the morning.
My alarm wakes me bright and early at five so I can get to the bakery by six. I take an extra steamy shower, throw down a few ibuprofen, drink two glasses of water, toss my hair up into a bun, and head to work.
The bakery has been getting a ton of attention lately because it was recently featured on a podcast hosted by the head coach of the Vegas Aces, Lincoln Nash—the same Lincoln Nash who happens to be brothers with the newest acquisition to the team. His wife-slash-podcast co-host talked about our kitchen sink cookies on the podcast in the same episode where he proposed to her, and business shot through the roof.
Those cookies happen to be my very own recipe.
My very own secret recipe.
They didn’t know there’s a small connection from Lincoln to me when they talked about the bakery where I work and my cookies. They don’t even know they’re my cookies. Hell, Lincoln probably doesn’t even remember me.
But they’re mine. I call them my kitchen sink cookies since I put in everything but the kitchen sink: chocolate chips, of course, and toffee. Pretzels and potato chips for a salty bite, butterscotch and peanut butter, malt balls and caramel sauce. I add in a little sea salt, some pecans, and my super-secret special ingredient.
I’ve never told anyone my super-secret special ingredient—not even Poppy, the owner of Cravings and my boss.
But it’s what makes the cookies melt in your mouth.
