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“Yes I did, thank you very much. That was his nephew actually. And I may or may not have given him my number.”

I smiled, ruefully. “Maybe I should put a hot guy on my blog; maybe that would make my readers happy.”

I hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but Reese’s eyebrows went up. “That’s not a bad idea, Mich.”

“What? I was kidding, Reese. That’s a terrible idea!”

“No, really. Didn’t that engagement ring Steve gave you get you a spike in page views?”

She was right. I’d only worn the ring for a couple of weeks before I knew it was time to take it off permanently. And vowed never to wear another one. But not before one of my hawk-eyed readers had spotted it on my hand in a photo of me chopping red peppers.

“Your readers really went for it, as I recall,” Reese said.

They really had—the comments had been endless.

OMG are you ENGAGED!?!

I spy future happiness, finally!

I harrumphed. “I never meant to show them that ring. I didn’t want anyone to see it. It’s how I knew I had to call it off.”

“Yeah, but think of how your readers would react if they saw you dating again?”

“The whole point is I want people excited about the food, not my personal life.” I said. Then I immediately felt ungrateful. I should be happy to have readers, period. To make any kind of money off my blog, no matter how meagre.

Maybe I’d never be known for my food posts. Maybe they weren’t good enough, and I should just lean into the personal stuff. Disappointment ran through me.

“Well then… what about starting fresh?” Reese said. “Maybe you should think about some of those other things you used to talk about. Selling grandma’s tomato sauce. Starting a restaurant!”

I looked at my sister, my heart hurting. “Those were just fantasies, Reese,” I said. “I need to build on the base I already have.”

“I could get you a job at Gastronomique…”

Reese was a server at the fanciest restaurant in the county. I smiled, trying to make it reach my eyes. “I love you, Reese. I do. But I’ll be okay.”

I would be too. I’d figure this out like I always did.

“Anyway, you should go. We’re going to get called upstairs any minute.” We weren’t, but I could tell she was sticking around for me.

“Okay.”

After we hugged and said our goodbyes, I stood there a moment, looking out at the girls, reassuring myself things would be just fine—when I heard a strange noise behind me.

A deep voice, going, “Vrrrrrooom!”

I turned. Salt and pepper hot dad was still here, flying his toddler around only a few yards away.

But now I could see his face.

My stomach dropped.

He looked up and our eyes locked. Then slowed to a stop.

This wasn’t just a guy who looked like Will Archer.

ItwasWill Archer.

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