Page 87 of Three Months Yesterday

“Please.” I tap his shoulder.

“Oh, please.” He smiles at the barista behind the counter.

She smiles, not one I’ve seen her aim at the customers before us, but a real one. She turns to begin working on my drink, glancing over her shoulder at me. “I don’t think I’ve seen you come in here yet. You passing through town?”

“Oh, no. I’m Madison, I manage the inn at the edge of town. I don’t make it into town often”—I wince—“but I’m working on it.”

“I’m Willa,” she offers. “The Lantern Inn, right?” she asks before I can ask about her, handing the cake pop to Jackson where he leans against my leg.

“Yeah…” I let the word hang, wondering how she knows what inn I’m talking about. Stonebridge Hollow isn’t big, but The Lantern Inn isn’t the only one in town.

“Oh, sorry. You said your name was Madison and you manage an inn. I assumed you’re the Madison that Beckett always talks about when he’s in here with the sheriff.”

Something shifts in my chest—a small, involuntary tightening.

“Beckett?”

“Beckett Stone?” she asks, concern filling her eyes. “He says it’s the best inn in town.”

“He does?” I ask. My voice is steady, but there’s something under my ribs that feels like a closing fist. It’s not anger, not exactly, but something sharper. Something that prickles along my skin and makes me want to ask a dozen questions I have no right to ask. How often is he here? How much do they talk?

I blink, clearing my thoughts.

Is that…jealousy? The word surfaces before I can stop it and I shove it back down immediately. That’s ridiculous. I have no claim to Beckett. I’m not allowed. I’m the one who told him we couldn’t do this. That we had to put the brakes on whatever was happening between us.

So why does that idea of him sitting at a table, talking to this woman make my stomach knot?

Pregnancy hormones. That’s all this is. Pregnancy hormones, too much cinnamon, and not enough sleep.

Jackson tugs on my hand, his empty cake pop stick in one hand and chocolate smeared on the other. “Aunt Maddie, can we go make muffins now?”

Willa laughs, the sound warm and grating on my skin. “Muffins? That sounds like a good plan.”

“It was part of the deal,” I say, trying to keep my voice light.

“It was lovely to meet you, Madison,” Willa says, handing me my drink. “Hope to see you around the cafe soon.”

“You too.” I smile, the motion a little forced.

Jackson takes my hand and we head for the door. He looks up at me as we step outside, a wide smile on his lips. “I like her.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She’s nice.”

I wish I could say he’s wrong, but I’ve got nothing to prove the contrary.

Back at the house, I’m unloading groceries as Jackson sits at that kitchen counter with the crayons and paper I set out for him. He’s quiet and focused on his drawing of what appears to be a truck with an improbable number of wheels, and I figure that buys me enough time to get everything put away.

I’m halfway through putting the groceries away when I hear him gasp. Turning I find him by the counter next to the window, the one where I’ve been collecting the origami flowers Beckett leaves by the coffee pot before eventually taking them upstairs to join the rest on my dresser. There hasn’t been a single day since the first one showed up that I haven’t found a new one for me. Tomorrow will be the first time I don’t find one, and I keep telling myself it doesn’t matter.

Jackson takes them over to the table, picking each one up, turning it over before arranging them in a careful line. He’s gentle, the way he is with things he thinks are important, but paper is paper, and four-year-old fingers are four-year-old fingers. I don’t have a chance to stop him before I hear the small pop of paper shifting.

His face crumbles instantly—his lip trembling as tears fill his eyes—and he holds the ruined flower out to me like it’s something broken that he’s responsible for fixing.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Maddie. I didn’t mean to. I was being careful, I promise.”

I’m on my knees in front of him in seconds, hands on his shoulder, trying to calm him down.