Minnie is having the time of her life. She delights over the ice cream shop and charms the owner, who gives her way too much chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. I let her pick out every single piece of cookie dough. Whatever makes her happy. Someone should be happy on a day like today. Minnie should be happy every day of her life, but I know that’s not realistic, so ice cream it is.

She’s covered in melted ice cream by the time it’s over, so I give her a bath. I can’t say no to her. I can’t bear to ruin even the slightest amount of fun for her, not today, not when her mother is dead. Not when I can’t even mourn the loss of her because she was awful. But she might not have meant that to Minnie. I let her splash water all over the bathroom floor. I don’t care. Water can be cleaned up.

I’m exhausted by the time we get to her bedtime story, which is six readings of the same book, over and over. She says most of the words with me, and every time she does it I burst with pride.

She’s so worn out that she goes to bed without a fuss.

Perfect. Now I can dwell on what an asshole I was to Valentine.

I strip off the clothes I wore into the city today, wishing I had the energy to burn them and stretch out in bed. It still smells like her. God, she smells good. In the dark, I press my face into her pillow and breathe it in. How were things so good, and then so bad?

Leave it to Angie to ruin one more thing, even in death. It’s a cruel thought. I don’t like that I’ve thought it. But I’m so pissed at her and so dead tired, that I can’t turn it around in my head. I can’t be the better person that I—

Oh, shit. The better person that I am with Valentine.

I should go across the street right now and apologize. I make a half-hearted motion like I’m going to get back out of bed.

Fail. I just can’t do it.

I try to reach for my phone, but my arms are heavy. Every muscle in my body aches. Heavy eyelids. Heavy heart. 

I’ll apologize to her first thing in the morning.

We’ll go get pancakes.

She’ll forgive me.

It’ll be perfect.

* * *

Minnie is calling for me before I’m ready to wake up, but I’ve slept so deeply that I feel half-refreshed. Well, a quarter-refreshed. Let’s not kid ourselves.

The sun is coming up on a hazy morning, the kind of summer weather that makes everything feel way too precious in a place like Lakewood. I don’t have to be at work until noon. I called Jamie on the way to the city yesterday, and he said I didn’t have to come in at all. Still, I should make up some of the hours, just on principle.

But first—

“Do you want to go get pancakes?” I ask Minnie, scooping her up from her Pack ‘N Play.

“Yeah!” she cries, clapping her hands, and then it’s all a game of finding her an outfit to wear, bundling her into the car, and driving away from the house. Valentine’s car is gone, so she’s definitely at the Short Stack.

My heart beats harder when we pull up into a spot right by the restaurant.

“Pancake breakfast,” says Minnie solemnly, but then she breaks into a giggle. “Whipped cream!” 

I think of that first breakfast at the Short Stack after a long and tiring night, and smile. It’s not going to take long to get back to that. I’m sure of it.

I open the door and the bell jingles happily against the glass. Today is the day we’re going to fix everything.

Sharon hustles out from the back, grabbing two menus on the way. “Good morning!” she sings, and then she sees me and the smile fades from her face. “Good morning,” she says, and then smiles at Minnie. “I know just what you want. A Mickey Mouse pancake, is that right?”

“Mickey Mouse!” shouts Minnie rapturously.

Sharon nods. “I’ll put that in. Sit wherever you’d like.” She’s still being friendly, welcoming, but there’s something guarded about her expression that makes my stomach sink right down to my shoes. “Valentine will be right with you.”

Minnie has only just started to color on her complimentary coloring page when Sharon comes out with her pancake. Minnie’s eyes go wide. “Oooh!” Then she looks up at Sharon. “Cut it?”

I watch Sharon’s heart melt—it’s right there on her face—and she can’t deny Minnie any more than I could yesterday. Without looking at me, she takes the seat next to Minnie and reaches for her silverware.

“Thanks, Sharon,” I tell her, trying to add every ounce of sincerity to my voice. “Let me just—” I jerk my head toward the bathroom. 

“Go ahead,” she says, flicking her gaze toward me. She doesn’t believe me. I don’t care.

I take the opposite turn, going out to the front room and through to the kitchen.

Valentine’s standing just inside, tying her apron around her waist, facing away from the door. I creep up behind her and wrap my arm around her waist from behind, pulling her in, ready to feel her body relax against mine. 

Instead, she tenses, spinning out of my grip and fixing me with a look that’s pure disgust. “Ryder. What are you doing?”

I try to move toward her. “Making up with you.” She moves back a step. “But it looks like you need some space.”

She rolls her eyes, and it’s not playful, not in the least. “I think we both need some space. I honestly don’t know what you’re doing back here, after yesterday.”

“Valentine, I—” I have to swallow down an ache in my throat. There’s hurt in her eyes, and I caused it. But the way she moves away from me is killing me. Even that first time we met, when everything was so painfully awkward and strained, she was always drawn to me. “I’m sorry about yesterday. It was—”

She waves a hand in the air, dismissing my words. “There’s nothing we need to discuss about yesterday. You know, it was really—” She meets my eyes and stands tall, lifting her chin just a little. “It was a fling we were having. It’s over now. No need to rehash it.”

My instinct is to joke with her, to move closer, to make her laugh. I don’t know how, but I have to make her laugh. Only I can’t get close. She crosses her arms, standing back.

“Do you mean that?”

“Yes. I do.” She answers firmly, and then moves toward the door, giving me wide berth. “Do you mind?”

I’m pretty sure I’m having a heart attack this hurts so badly. How did I not see this coming? How did I not see? Numbly, I step aside. “Lead the way.”

Valentine moves out into the front room, head held high, back to me, and I come through the door after her. This is going to be an absolutely excruciating breakfast. I can’t get out of it. Even from here, I can hear Minnie chattering to Sharon as she eats her pancake. There is no way on earth this could get any worse.

The door to the Short Stack swings open and both of us stop. 

Valentine’s mouth drops open.

It’s that ass from the beach.

“Hey, Valentine,” he says, lifting his sunglasses from his eyes. “I told you I wouldn’t give up.”