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Chapter One: Kaylee
“How do you know if a boy likes you?”
The last scone almost falls from my hand as I turn to my six-year-old niece, Brooke. She’s seated on the chair closest to me, peering at me with curiosity through her large green eyes. Her raven-black hair, so similar to mine, cups her cheeks.
“What?”
Brooke closes her book. “Is it true that when a boy pulls your hair and says mean things, he likes you?”
Dropping my scone on the table, I pull out a chair and lean forward.
“If someone likes you, they’re kind to you. They want you to be happy. They don’t want to make you cry.”
“Like Logan.” She cocks her head. “Mom said he made you cry a lot.”
An ache spreads through my chest, and I shut my eyes, inhaling sharply. The dark swirling thoughts threaten to come up, but I shove them down and smile at my niece.
Before I can think of something to say, the door opens and Elena rushes in. Her hair’s messy, and there are dark circles under her eyes. One glance at her daughter, and her face breaks into a smile. Brooke runs into her arms. Elena strokes her daughter’s hair and smiles tiredly at me.
“Thanks for watching her. The meeting took longer than I expected.”
I hand Brooke the scone. “We just had a lovely conversation. Didn’t we, Brooke?”
Elena straightens and holds Brooke’s hand.
“She pestered you with questions, huh?”
I laugh. “A few.”
Her phone buzzes. She stares at the screen and mutters.
“I have to go.” Elena holds me in a one-armed hug. “We’ll talk about this,” she says and waves a hand around my shop, uttering, “later.” Grabbing Brooke’s bag, she nudges her toward the door. “I love you!”
Brooke echoes the same thing. I wave.
“Love you too.”
“Don’t forget to give Dylan the book.” Elena pauses at the door. “I’m sure he’ll notice if I don’t return it tonight, even if he’s preoccupied with his best friend.”
My brows furrow. “Do they have one of their online game sessions again?”
“Online games? Of course not. Ian’s back.”
My mouth falls open.
Wait. What?
“Got to go. See you at dinner!”
I stare at the door for a long time after they’ve left before lowering myself to the nearest chair. Ian is back? After what – seven years?
My phone buzzes—a text from Elena.
Don’t forget the book!
Then another text.
Let’s talk about her on Sunday.
