her and her late husband, and she said she found it incredibly fulfilling. She was the sort of woman who wore tailored jeans but bare feet, and perfectly styled hair but no makeup. She spent hours listening to romance novel audiobooks and made a new dessert for us every night, even though all the other guests had checked out right after the Lickin’. She also wore a bright yellow apron with the name of the Cherryville Butterfly Conservatory at the top and a picture of a pipevine swallowtail with iridescent blue wings underneath, and you could tell a lot about a person by their favorite species of butterfly. It was impossible not to like her or to feel at home in her house, which was probably why I’d driven here immediately after leaving Diesel’s place, with my head still whirling over the idea he’d proposed.
“I abhor lying. I’ve been lied to, and I do not recommend it. I couldn’t live with myself if I participated in some sort of sham engagement. Besides, there’s no guarantee that Diesel would get custody even if I did.” I licked the spoon experimentally, and comforting vanilla sweetness flooded my mouth. “So I can’t get involved in this mad scheme. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” Miss Sara echoed. She set a second layer of cake on top of the first. “Which is why you told him no.”
“I couldn’t tell him no! Diesel is a good person. I’d bet my bottom dollar on it. He clearly loves the baby, and he’s trying to do his best for her. Plus the baby is gorgeous, and she has this look in her eyes where you can tell she’s going to be a genius mathematician philanthropist or invent a new kind of poetry or something. You know the look I mean? So, I can’t just abandon the two of them in their hour of need, Miss Sara. It’s not about what’s convenient for me. It’s about something bigger.”
“Ah.” She nodded. “So you told him yes.”
“God, no! No-ho-ho-no. I couldn’t say yes! That would kill me.” I took a new spoon from the crock and leaned over to scoop another gob of frosting from the bowl. “I’ve been down this road before. I was engaged once.” I shoved the entire blob of frosting in my mouth at once and barely managed to garble out, “To Payne.”
Miss Sara blinked confusedly. “In the ass?”
“What? No. I mean, yes, ultimately, I suppose he was. But his name was Payne.” I paused. “Is Payne. He’s not dead, just dead to me.”
“Parrish, honey, are you drunk?” Miss Sara paused with her frosting spatula in the air.
“No, ma’am.” I stretched my arm out for another spoon of frosting. “Just a little high on sugar and anxiety.”
“Right.” Her lips twitched, and she resumed frosting. “Proceed.”
“Where was I?”
“Payne.”
“Yeah. Payne was married before me, and he has two boys. Ethan was two when we first met, and Zane was just four months.”
“Four months. That’s…” She broke off with a whistle.
“A lot of work?” I gave her a small smile. “Yeah. But I was happy to help. I always wanted kids, so it was perfect.” My shoulders slumped. “Until it wasn’t. And when I said goodbye to Payne a year later, I said goodbye to the boys too.” I licked the spoon and tried not to think too hard about the weeks after the breakup, where every box of Cheerios I found in the pantry, or sippy cup lid I spotted in my junk drawer, or single tiny sock caught in the lint trap of my dryer would trigger a fresh round of tears.
Truth to tell, I’d missed the boys way more than I’d missed their father, which told me I’d probably stuck with Payne for way too long and for all the wrong reasons.
“I can’t believe I’ve found myself in this situation again. I mean, more or less.”
Miss Sara moved the frosting bowl directly in front of me and leaned her elbows on the countertop to watch me eat. “So what did you tell Diesel?”
“Er. Well. Technically… nothing.”
She lifted an eyebrow.
“I maybe ran out of his house and burned rubber down his driveway?” I said in a rush. I rubbed my forehead. “It’s all sort of a blur. And I know! I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I need to tell him no to protect my heart.”
“Well…”
“You’re not wrong.” I shook my head sadly and dug into the frosting again. “But how? If I say no, the kidlet goes to her rich,