Down Home with Naomi is in syndication on two different cable networks and my line of gourmet staples, The Fancy Pantry, is making a mint. It’s doing so well that I’m adding a line of cookware this spring. I have more money than I know what to do with, especially considering I’m currently living in my parents’ house and Maddie refuses to let me pay more than a third of the start-up costs for the bakery we’re opening downtown.
I tried to convince her and our business partner, Aria, that it’s absolutely no big deal for me to foot the bill for the renovation—as well as the first year’s expenses—but they wouldn’t hear of it. I’m not sure either one of them believed me when I said I didn’t care if the bakery failed and I lost every dime.
But then, I’ve been financially flush for years now. I know firsthand that money truly can’t buy anything close to happiness and real wealth isn’t something you can invest in the stock market. Aria, with her sexy, devoted husband, adorable little girl, and new baby due next year, is richer than I am in every way that matters.
No, money can’t buy happiness, but maybe it can buy me a foot in the door to forgiveness. If I’m going to build my forever home in Bliss River, I have to make peace with Jake. Since arriving in town, I’ve only seen him once, for just a few minutes, but that was long enough to make it clear that he hates my face.
Or my soul.
Maybe my face and my soul?
All I know is that when I spotted him in the frozen food aisle at the grocery store yesterday, my stomach flipped and my heart leapt. I was so happy-sad to see him I’d barely known what to do with myself. Happy because he looked just the same—broader and stronger, but with that same grounded, thoughtful expression—and sad because I hated that we’d lost touch so completely.
No, things hadn’t ended well between us. But before we were lovers, we’d been best friends, and it’s sad to lose someone so special.
Really sad.
But it didn’t have to stay sad, I realized, standing there, watching him debate ice cream flavors. Maybe we could start over or just…start being friends again, but this time as grown-ups who understand that young love is complicated and we’re not the same people we were as teenagers.
I headed his way with every intention of making some sort of dorky ice-breaker joke and confessing how much I’d love to be his friend again. But before I’d made it past the frozen pizzas, Jake’s nose lifted and his head jerked my way, almost as if he could smell me coming.
Our eyes met and I smiled like an idiot. In response, he shot a skin-melting glare my way, spun on his heel, and walked out of the store without a backward glance—and without any ice cream, which I happen to know he loves.
I was left to pick up the pieces of my shattered grin and pretend it didn’t hurt to lose Jake all over again.
That’s what it had felt like, losing him, though of course he isn’t mine and hasn’t been for a very, very long time.
I went home and pondered the interaction, examining it from every angle, the way I do any problem in my business or personal life. I’m a problem solver. It’s what I do and one of the reasons I’m able to juggle so many different career balls without dropping them all on the floor.
After prolonged contemplation, I admitted that Jake has every right to hate my face and my soul, if that’s what feels authentic for him, but I also realized there’s no way I could stay out of his way. Bliss River is roughly the size of a collector’s edition postage stamp. Even if I wanted to spend my life skulking around, avoiding my ex, it would be impossible for me to stay completely out of Jake’s way.
And I don’t want to skulk or avoid.
I want to live my life, with my heart and my arms wide open.
That will be a lot easier if Jake and I can find a way to harmoniously co-exist.
And really, harmony is better for both of us. Hating people is a miserable waste of energy. I wasted enough time hating my ex to know that for a fact.
I’ve moved past the “actively hating” Caleb stage into the “avoid touching those memories like a bad bruise” stage. When I happen to brush up against a Caleb recollection, it still hurts, but it doesn’t make me perpetually depressed or angry and bitter, the way I was in those early days after the separation.
And I’m grateful for that.
Angry and bitter feels horrible. I don’t want to feel that way anymore, and I don’t want Jake to feel that way, either. Especially if a little extra effort on my part can help him put his anger behind him.