“Minnie, squish it in your hands. Like this.” I pick up a chunk of Play-Doh and squeeze it between my fingers.

Minnie watches me, then grabs a handful and smashes it hard between her palms. “Squeeze!” she shouts, then grits her teeth so hard her head shakes. 

“I’m not a stalker,” a voice calls out from the side of the yard, and both Minnie and I stop and look. 

“Okay?” I call back, and just then a tall blonde with a grocery bag rolled at the top and shoved under her arm comes around the side of the house. She takes in the scene, looks at Minnie, and gives her a smile and a wave. “Uh, hi?”

“Hi. Your daughter is super cute.” Then she seems to realize we haven’t actually been introduced. Not even once. She must have heard about me from somewhere, though. I have a few guesses. She comes across the yard toward me and sticks out her hand. “I’m Cece Harwood.” Then she gives me an expectant look.

“Should I...know you?”

She rolls her eyes. “God, she never tells anyone about me. It’s like I don’t even exist.” She shifts the paper bag from under one arm to the other. “I’ve been Valentine’s best friend since forever. I’m assuming you know who Valentine is, right?” Her eyes sparkle with the joke. I can see why she’s Valentine’s best friend.

“Yeah, I know her. And you know me already, don’t you?”

“I know of you, Ryder Harrison.” Cece looks me up and down. “And now that I’m seeing you up close—” She glances down at Minnie and decides not to say anything else. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“I think we’re already talking.” I like Cece instinctively, but I have no idea what she’s doing here. All I know is that Jamie canceled some jobs for today, so I have an afternoon to spend with Minnie, squashing Play-Doh between our fingers and eating graham crackers straight from the box.

“Good point.” Her eyes follow Minnie as she takes off across the yard, then runs back and grabs another fistful of Play-Doh, this time in a neon pink. “It’s time to have a conversation with Valentine.”

“We had a conversation last night. She was pretty clear about the fact that she wants to—”

“You two have to be the most frustrating people on the planet. Did you get a good look at her?”

“It was dark, I guess, but—”

“She’s been sad for days, and honestly, I can’t stand it.” Cece shakes her head. “I don’t know what you said to her last night, but she stayed up until dawn and started texting me about getting out of town. Which is ridiculous.” Cece looks me in the eye. “If she’s going to leave town, she should do it with you.”

My mouth literally drops open. “What—why? She told me last night that we were done. And it’s not the first time she’s said that. If she doesn’t want to be with me—”

“What, you’re just going to give up on her?” Cece clucks her tongue. “I know Conrad put on a big show, but that’s not what she’s looking for. I think half the reason the whole thing upset her so much is that she wants to hear that from you. All that shit with him—” Cece’s face turns red just thinking about it. “She wants a man who’s going to stand by her. And she wants a man who can do what—” Another glance at Minnie. “Let me just say that the gushing was almost as out of control as the moping.”

I take a deep breath. “Listen, I appreciate the advice.” My chest still throbs like I’ve recently recovered from a heart attack. The hope is just about killing me. “But I can’t go talk to her right now. I’m...occupied.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Cece says, dismissing the concern with a wave. “She’ll be stopping by soon.”

* * *

I don’t have anything planned, and I only half-believe that Cece could convince her, but I’m not a total fucking idiot. I see this as the last chance it is.

And I don’t have anything.

All I can offer is a little bit of time. The very moment Cece drives away I hustle Minnie into the car and drive over to Norma’s house. It’s the middle of the afternoon, so the timing is weird, but she opens the door with a big smile. “Change your mind about work?”

“It’s more important than work,” I tell her, Minnie already running inside and joining the chorus of kids already playing. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

Now I’m a little out of breath, sitting on my own front porch because I ran here from the car.

I don’t know what to do to look casual. I sit down on the wicker furniture, and then stand back up, leaning against the door. That just feels weird, so I sit down again. No. I can’t just be sitting there like an old man when she shows up—if she shows up.

Just when I’m starting to feel like an idiot for even beginning to hope that Valentine will come over, I see a flash of red move toward the middle of her yard.

My body instinctively assumes the most casual, cool position I can think of—leaning against the post of the porch, watching her move across the yard, her hips swaying with the beat of her walk. She’s carrying a plate covered in plastic, and her hair is twisted at the back of her head. It looks wet. I wonder if she’s been swimming.

Valentine catches sight of me watching her before she crosses the road, and I can see the blush spreading up her neck from here. She looks both ways and then crosses, holding the plate carefully level. Nobody can possibly blame me for the fact that in this moment I see her in a white dress, coming down the aisle with a bouquet of wildflowers. 

She crosses the yard, not slowing, not speeding up, and comes to a stop a few feet in front of me. Despite everything, despite the stupid argument, despite the late-night dismissal, she bites her lip. I can see her breathing, the curve of her breasts just peeking out from beneath her tank top.

“Hey,” she says. “I have cinnamon rolls.”