The food was ruined. Between the smoke, the fire extinguisher, and the sprinkler system, pretty much everything they had baked was an inedible, soggy mess. Poppy sent everyone home, while Summer dumped it all in the trash and slowly walked back inside.

She sank against the wall and slid to the kitchen floor. “It’s a disaster.” Summer gulped, surveying the wreckage. Even aside from the hundreds of dollars of wasted baked goods, there was water dripping down the walls, wet puddles of sticky sugar on the floor, and burn marks scorched up the back wall.

Her beautiful kitchen looked like a war-zone.

“All of it’s ruined.” Summer felt a sob well up in her chest. “I should never have thought I could take on something like this.”

“Now, let’s not get dramatic.” June patted her shoulder. “Things didn’t exactly run smoothly straight out of the gate,” she said, tactful. “But that’s what the soft open was for, to get the kinks out before the real deal.”

“Some kinks.” Summer felt like crying. “Everything that could go wrong, did.”

“So now you’ve got the worst over with, you’ll know how to deal with it all again,” June argued. “Everyone knows that if the dress rehearsal is a disaster, that means opening night will go off without a hitch.”

Summer looked up. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

June chuckled. “I was known to tread the boards when I was younger. Amateur dramatics. We staged Macbeth one year. You know how they say to break a leg?” she asked. “Our leading actor did. Got turned around and walked right off the front of the stage. Broke his shin in two places. We had to open with his understudy, but it was flawless. I got a standing ovation for my ‘Out, damned spot’ speech.”

Summer managed a smile. “But I don’t have an understudy. It’s just me.”

“And you’ll do fine.”

Summer let out a breath. She knew they were trying to help, but she couldn’t keep pretending anymore. “If you don’t mind, I think I just want to be alone.”

June and Poppy exchanged looks. “OK,” Poppy said softly. “But call if you need anything.”

Summer nodded. “Thank you,” she said, getting choked up all over again. “You guys have been the best.”

It wasn’t their fault that she was a walking catastrophe.

She sank back against the wall and closed her eyes, listening to the door close behind them.

What was she supposed to do now?

The real opening was Monday. All her flyers and emails had gone out, and the article in the Gazette was inviting everyone to come by. She couldn’t cancel now—no matter how much she wanted to go hide under her covers and not come out for a hundred years.

Maybe June was right, and this was the universe’s way of throwing all the problems at her early to get them out of the way. But what if she was wrong? Summer wondered with a sick feeling in her stomach. What if this was just the beginning? Was her dream doomed to failure before it had even begun?

She heard the door open and footsteps return. She sighed. “I know you want to help, but really, I just need to be alone.”

She was expecting Poppy or June, back to try and cheer her up, but instead, it was a male voice that came. Male, British, and too achingly familiar.

“What happened in here?”

Grayson.

Summer opened her eyes. He was standing in the doorway, wearing jeans and a rugged plaid shirt like he’d strolled straight out of the woods.

Just the sight of him hurt, salt in her already-raw, wounded heart.

She swallowed. “I thought you were camping.”

“I . . . came back.” Grayson looked awkward. “To see you. And the opening.”

“Well, you’re too late. You didn’t miss much.” Summer gave a bitter laugh. “But then, you told me, didn’t you? I’m chaos. I guess everything I touch falls apart.”

“That’s not true.” Grayson crossed to her, and crouched down beside Summer on the wet kitchen floor. “What happened? Are you OK?”

He reached to touch her cheek, but Summer flinched away. “I’m fine,” she lied, scrambling to her feet. The concern on his face was too much to take, after everything else that had happened today.

Now he was back. Now, he decided to show up. But it felt too late.

Too little, and too late.

She went to the counter, and started trying to clear the mess: taking empty bowls and baking sheets and stacking them in the sink.

“Let me help you with that.” Grayson followed.

“Don’t you have someplace else to be?” Summer shot back. “A schedule you need to keep?”

“Summer . . .”

“What?” She turned away and angrily wiped her tears, hating that he was seeing her like this.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Grayson’s voice was heavy. “Every mile I drove, it felt like I was getting further away from where I was supposed to be.”

“I’m sorry I ruined your big escape,” Summer said. She didn’t want to be sarcastic, but her hurt was burning, sharp and bitter, and it was spilling out.

“You don’t understand. I take that trip every year, but I didn’t want to be there, not without you.”

“Will you just listen to yourself?” Summer interrupted, spinning around. “You’re still acting like being with me is ruining your life, like it’s a burden to even care!”

“That’s not what I meant.” Grayson looked like he was struggling for words, but Summer didn’t have time for this, not with the wreckage of her dreams strewn, damp and soggy, all around her, and a mountain of work ahead to get it all back on track.

“This isn’t just about the opening,” Summer said, aching to look at him. She knew how those strong arms felt, wrapped around her. How he tasted, how he touched. She wanted so much from him, but not like this. Not when she seemed like a sin that he wished he could resist.

“I didn’t ask for a lot, OK? It wasn’t like I said you had to be all in,” she said, her voice cracking. “Or that you had to promise me a future. Commitment. That’s all still way down the line. But you won’t even open up and give me room in your life right now. You don’t call or text me, or seem happy if I drop by. It’s like you don’t want me to exist outside the exact time you’ve got scheduled for me. Well, I’m sorry, but it’s not enough. I need more than that.” She gulped. “And I can’t just wait around in case one day you decide to finally let me in. I won’t do that to myself, not anymore.”

She thought of the painful years she’d spent, desperately trying to prove herself. It was one thing to take rejection in the kitchen—never feeling like she’d be good enough for her mom, or the temperamental chefs she had to dance around—but she wasn’t going to do that with her heart. She couldn’t.

Summer knew what it was like to feel not good enough, and it was no way to live.

No way to love.

“Please, just go,” Summer said sadly. Grayson seemed frozen, stranded there in the middle of the floor, and she had to turn away from him again before she broke her own word, and reached for one last kiss. “Go back to your life and your routine. That’s what matters to you, isn’t it?”

There was silence. He’d left, just the way she asked.

So why did it feel all wrong?