Bree

“I’ve got bad news and good news,” Rona announced when I got home from work the next day. She was snacking on the caramel popcorn. “Which one do you want to hear first?”

I pressed my fingers on my forehead, trying to massage the ache from a headache I felt coming. “Um… Bad?”

“Grandma’s coming over.”

I groaned. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“Nope.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow, for dinner.”

That wasn’t a lot of warning. “For how long?”

“She says she’s missed us and wants to come over. She didn’t mention how long. She liked the cinnamon thing you brought last time, too, although she’s too proud to say it. To that, I blame you.”

I sank down on my springy couch. “What do we do?”

“You do your usual, and don’t stress. I’ll come over to help and we can make her something nice. It’ll be fine,” she said more gently.

“Tell me the good news is good.”

She held it up, removing the paper bag with dramatic flair. “I got this bottle of red wine as a gift today. Figured what better way to spend it, than to drown our sorrows and try to forget?”

* * *

Liam

Before heading to work, I made a quick trip to the grocery.

That’s where I found her.

Bree pushed her cart, dumping bags of ingredients with intense focus. She looked like she was going to battle more than someone who was shopping for a couple of vegetables.

She abruptly stopped. She bent down and picked up a cabbage, only to dump it back to its stack. She mumbled something to herself, and looked both ways at the end of the aisle as if she was crossing some traffic light. She went to get more vegetables, picking up a bag of carrots and holding it up, as if torn whether or not to get it.

“Bree? What are you doing?”

She turned around quickly to face me, wide-eyed. “Liam! I’m—” She looked down at her cart, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to say “—stocking up.”

“I can see that.” I grinned, because it was already half-full. “You planning on feeding half the town?”

“No.” She looked down at the bag of carrots she was holding, and then she promptly dropped it. She raked her hair back with a hand. “I’m probably overthinking this.”

“Something going on tonight?”

“My grandma’s coming!” she blurted out.

She’d said it like one would say that the world was ending.

“So…you’re buying all that for her?” I nodded towards her cart.

She looked at me, her eyes wide and filled with worry. “Is it too much? Should I change it? Scale back? Aargh.”

“I’m sure whatever you make, she won’t mind.”

She grimaced. “I wish it were that simple.”

Her phone rang abruptly, the sound of jazzy music. “Sorry, I need to take this.” She nearly dropped the phone, only to catch it at the right moment, and placed it on her ear. Her cheeks turned pink. “Yes? Crap. What did she do?” She groaned. “Are there any left? I’ll be there soon.”

She ended the call and breathed in deeply and let it out.

She looked at me apologetically. “I’ve got to go. The cat knocked down my pots. I have to buy these, fix things, prepare.” She waved her hands around as she spoke.

She zoomed past everyone with her cart, leaving in a hurry. I grabbed a carton of milk and a loaf of bread. I headed to the counter and waited behind her.

And as I was heading out, my next step crunched on something solid. I looked down. I thought at first that it was a purple pocket-sized spiral-bound notebook, except what glinted in the light was “2017” in golden lettering. I bent down to pick it up. It was someone’s planner. I turned it around and didn’t find a name on the outside. I flipped open the cover and on the first page saw Bree Carmichael in neat, flowing writing at the top.

Interesting.

And lucky. Pretty damn lucky.

I was going to have to make an extra trip later and return it to her.

* * *

Bree

Grandma Meredith was a woman who didn’t smile often. On the rare occasion she did, it made the lines of her face softer, and her eyes kinder. It made me wonder why she didn’t do it more often.

She pressed her cheek against mine, and wrapped me in a hug. The scent of her sweet perfume surrounded me, and it brought back the memories of when we’d stayed with her.

“Look at you. You’ve lost some weight, Aubrey. Are you eating enough?”

She’d always called me Aubrey, even back then.

“I am.” I remembered what it was like on weekends, when she would spoil us with her cooking and the pasta she perfected. She liked feeding us a lot.

She released an audible gasp when Rona emerged from the kitchen to welcome her. “Oh, Rona. What have you done to your hair?”

Rona touched her hair and looked at its ends. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s pink,” she snapped, outraged.

“Well, I like it.” She was always great at shrugging off whatever Grandma said. I always admired that about her.

Grandma stepped inside, her eyes scanning around the place. “Lovely curtains. Where are they from?”

“Thanks. They’re Egyptian curtains. They were on sale when I got them.”

She examined the picture frames on my shelf. I felt like she’d just placed a microscope in front of my life, trying to analyze each one.

I knew what she’d see. Awards the bakery received lined up, pictures with friends and Rona, and of trips I’d taken alone. Snapshots of the life I’d made for myself. I wondered what she thought—was she proud of me?

I looked around the living room, my eyes wandering to the porch where we’d cleaned up the mess from earlier. I felt a sense of accomplishment. And the best part was that we managed not to have a meltdown getting it all done.

Rona came over earlier, and we tidied the house and she helped me put away the broken pots. Then we’d then made lasagna and a chicken casserole.

The apple and cinnamon cake was now baking in the oven. I also added some egg tarts for good measure.

At least I had a couple of things to check off on my daily list today. I felt for my planner in the back pocket of my jeans, but it wasn’t there.

Did it fall?

I had everything in it, important dates I marked down, people’s orders, to-do lists…

Trace your steps back, Bree.

Maybe I left it in the car. Rona let me drive hers today, which was a lifesaver.

I passed Rona who was setting up the table, and quickly told her I was getting something from the car. I grabbed the keys from the counter, when someone knocked on the door.

Me and Rona both looked at each other and a silent question passed between us. I shrugged, letting her know I had no clue who it was. I hadn’t invited anyone. It looked like she didn’t know either.

I jogged to the door and opened it cautiously.

I nearly fell over in shock. Liam stood in front of me, giving me one of his melting smiles. What was he doing in front of my door? He knew where I lived?

Oh. I remembered that I’d told him two days ago when he nearly drove me home.

I realized I’d been staring this whole time, and I still had no idea why he was here.

“Hey.” He held up my small, lavender planner. “You dropped this earlier.”

Relief swept through me as it started to sink in. “Oh God, I thought I’d lost it. Thanks!”

“Aubrey? Is someone at the door?” my grandma’s voice called out.

Then the next thing I knew, she was right behind me, a hand on my shoulder. She stopped to look at him, and was speechless for a moment before she seemed to recover herself. “Well, why won’t you let your visitor in?”

“Oh, he probably has stuff he wants to—”

“Sure,” he responded easily.

Wait… What?

“I’m Meredith, Aubrey’s grandmother.” She smiled warmly at him. “What’s your name, young man?” she asked him.

Nooo.

Now she was going to get ideas about us.

They proceeded to talk like they were old friends.

This was not how I imagined the evening would turn out.

* * *

"I didn't know you invited him over,” Rona whispered in my ear, bumping my shoulder as she walked past. I’d just taken the apple and cinnamon cake from the oven, inserting a toothpick.

"I didn’t.”

She looked confused. “But he’s here.”

I set it down on the cooling rack.

“Yeah… I don’t know how that happened.” I discarded the toothpick.

“I think this night will be interesting.” There was a twinkle in her eye.

She carried a pitcher of mango juice outside, and I followed behind her, sighing.

* * *

When we left the kitchen, the round of questions started. I always hated these questions, even back then. Now it was even worse, because Liam was here.

“So, Rona. How’s the online log?” she asked when we sat down for dinner.

“It’s a blog.”

Here we go again.

“Do you still get… views?” She said the last word with distaste, even though I could tell she was trying not let it show.

“Yep.” Rona poked at her chicken.

“Don’t sound too happy,” I muttered.

Her gaze turned to me sharply.

“You too, Aubrey. If you’d become a doctor like your mom…”

She let the statement hang in the air, and as much as I tried to ignore it, it cut. It was the same conversation again. She’d wanted me to take up medicine. I was the youngest, and when Rona became a blogger and a photographer, grandma had it in her mind that I was going to be the scientifically-inclined one. There was a time I thought I was, too.

“Well, I’m not,” I replied firmly. It hadn’t dulled, the sting of her disapproval. I was generally a pretty calm person, but something about her made me want to bake a tray of cookies and eat them all whenever she visited.

“What do you expect to get from this bakery of yours? It has a ridiculous name too.”

In that moment, I found I couldn’t speak. Like all the words were trapped in my throat.

“I think it’s brilliant,” Liam spoke up from my left, to my surprise. My eyes shot to him. “You can tell it has a lot of heart. Passion.”

His eyes went to mine as he held my gaze. My eyes started to blur. Why did he care?

“Only someone who has drive can succeed.”

She sighed. “Don’t get me wrong… I like this place, but how long can she keep this up for?”

I felt their eyes on me. I couldn’t stand this anymore. I stood up abruptly. “Dessert?”

* * *

I sat down on the porch.

Rona sat down beside me, silent at first. After a while, she said softly, “I like him.”

I rolled my eyes, even though I knew she couldn’t see it. “See, this is why I didn’t tell you.”

“He defended you. No guy has ever done that for you. No better man than someone who understands you and what you love to do. That’s rare.”

I appreciated what he did, but I also wasn’t sure if he did it because he was feeling sorry for me. He shouldn’t have seen that at all.

“Is Grandma asleep?” I asked, hoping we could talk about something else.

“She’s watching TV.” I thought that was the end of the topic, but she continued, “She adores him. Probably imagines you having little Brees running around.”

"Oh God. Stop. We're not even together. He's not looking to be tied down. He said so himself.”

She looked at me oddly. “You do realize he's just had dinner with us.”

"He was just returning my planner.”

She snorted, patting away the dirt on her jeans as she stood up to leave. “Oh, Bree. You’re buried so deep in your shell, you don't even realize it. I saw the way he looked at you.” She stopped and turned to meet my eyes. “If it was just for a planner, he wouldn’t have been at that table with us tonight.”

* * *

The television was still turned on, only a single bright lamp on the corner illuminating the living room. Grandma was watching a game show. I thought she’d fallen asleep, but she’d spotted me when I tried to sneak away with some egg tarts.

“Aubrey. Come here.”

I went to her and sat down beside her, wary. I bit on the egg tart I made.

“I know I’ve been strict with you both.” She meant me and Rona. “But I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.”

“I’m getting old, Aubrey.” She closed her eyes and sipped her tea. “I want great grandchildren.”

Her words floored me. I opened my mouth and nothing came out. I tried again. “I’m not ready to have children. I’m not even in a relationship at the moment!”

“Your Liam seems to think otherwise.”

My Liam. Why did I like the way it sounded so much? “Wait, you talked about children?”

“He’s smitten with you,” she said, as if what they’d discussed was no big deal. “I see the way you are around him, too.”

“He kind of was forced to have dinner with us, out of courtesy, I guess.”

Grandma waved away a hand. “Nonsense. No one forced him to do anything. Does he look like a man that can be forced to do something?”

Well, she had a point. “No,” I answered.

“Listen, Aubrey. That man means business—and he wants you.”