“Kai can handle your brother,” Pippa soothed, her hand gliding over Flick’s messy hair.
“I thought I knew what I was doing, I thought I had this under control,” Flick said, between hiccups and sobs.
“Honey, love isn’t something that you can control.” Pippa pushed Flick onto a stool, and grabbed another one before holding Flick’s trembling hands into her own. “Fee, are you sure there’s no chance?”
Flick shook her head. “He’s not interested. I was a fling, a fun time, someone to waste some time with.” When Pippa’s eyes narrowed in anger, Flick hastened to explain. “It’s not his fault. That’s what I was spouting when we first met, when we started sleeping together. He didn’t move the goalposts, I did. I just thought...”
“What, honey?”
Flick gulped and tears streamed down her cheeks. “I just thought that I made him happy, that there was a chance that we could...I don’t know, have something more than that.”
Pippa picked up the corner of her apron and dabbed her face. “I’m so sorry you’ve been dealing with this alone, and that I wasn’t there for you.”
“Again, not your fault.” Flick sucked in a breath. “I blame your mom for that, and I'm done.”
Pippa’s hand stilled. “So you’re going to tell me?”
“I’m going to make Gina tell you. We’ll visit her tonight and we won’t leave until she spills the beans.” Flick hauled in a big breath and her shoulders lifted and dropped. “It’s nothing to worry about, Pips. Well, it is, but not in a she’s-going-to-die way.”
Pippa looked like she was about to argue but then she swallowed her words. “Okay, tonight. That’ll be good. So, how are we going to fix your broken heart, Fee?”
Flick closed her eyes. “I’m going to do what I always do. I’m going to work through it. I’m going to make breakfast muffins and croissants and I’m going to greet my customers. Then I’ll make bread, and do an inventory, and take my dog for a walk. I’m going to draw up a quote to cater that wedding and I’m going to do a sample range of meals for the boys at Caswallawn. I won’t think about him or miss him. I’m done crying for him!”
Pippa wiped a tear off Flick’s cheek. “Oh, Fee. You’re not nearly done crying and I suspect you won’t be for a while. Why don’t you take the day off, climb into bed, and try to sleep? You look exhausted.”
Sleep and a smashed heart weren’t happy bedfellows. Flick gestured to the mixing bowl and the flour. “I need to make muffins, Moses isn’t coming in until later.”
“I’ll make the muffins,” Pippa told her.
“You?” Flick shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Hey, Gran taught me to bake too. I can do breakfast muffins,” Pippa said. She stood up and walked over to the shelves holding all their recipe books. “Hand me a recipe and I’ll do it.”
Her love life was going to the dogs but Flick didn’t think that was a good enough reason to punish the residents of Mercy with Pippa’s baking. “I’ll make them, Pips. But thanks.” Flick pushed back her hair and pulled it into a messy tail. “Thanks for being here. It means a lot to me.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Muffins I can do, anything else is up for debate.”
“God, I could just kick Kai,” Pippa muttered, hopping up onto the counter as Flick got to work.
“You know the saying ‘it’s better to have loved and lost than not loved at all?’” Flick asked, reaching for the packet of flour.
“Yeah?”
“Bullshit.” Flick sighed. “Perfect, utter bullshit.”
Chapter Fourteen
MayorBob:It has come to our attention that this forum is being misused. It was created so that the residents of Mercy would have a place to—anonymously, if necessary—make comments on local politics and council decisions. It is not a vehicle to sell items or to dissect the personal and private lives of Mercy residents. Please refrain from doing either.
HankPriceCheatedOnMe:So sorry to see you so miserable, Flick. ALL men are bastards and Hank Price is their king!
“I wouldn’t look good in prison orange,” Pippa said into her glass of wine. Flick grimaced as Tally reached across the table and topped up Pippa’s glass. Pippa took a long pull, cradled the glass to her chest, and glowered at Rufus. Ru placed his paws over his eyes and whimpered.
“You’re upsetting my dog, Pips,” Flick said, putting her running shoes up onto the porch railing. They’d just returned from inspecting Gina’s house and Flick had had to steer Pippa from one room to the next, her cousin almost robotic with shock. Eventually, her reaction morphed from shock into pure anger, and apparently the solution was red wine.
Flick wanted to tell Pippa that dealing with the house and its contents was hard enough but dealing with it with a hangover was going to be a lot harder. But she knew her cousin, and Pippa wasn’t in the mood to listen.