Page 37 of Bed and Breakup (Dial Delights #15)

Molly

At first, I assumed Robin was just tired.

She hardly said a word on our walk home from the celebration at the bar, then crawled into bed and went to sleep without even giving me a kiss good night.

Then she was already working in the garden before I awoke Saturday morning, and I was passed out when she arrived home late after her dinner shift, so I chalked up our missing each other to how hard we’ve been working to get the inn ready.

But after a third night of little communication and absolutely no romance, I was certain something was up.

I intended to ask what was wrong when tensions were low and she was in a good mood.

Maybe right after a meal, or a nap. Certainly not here and now, when we’re both sweaty, frustrated, and holding power tools.

But here we are, halfway through tearing out a crappy built-in closet in the Lilac Room that the management company inexplicably chose to install with a gallon of liquid nails, when I press against Robin to help her tug at a stuck piece of particleboard and she jumps away like I’m a rabid possum.

I can’t hold back any longer, so I demand she tell me why she’s been acting so weird.

“Key told you to shut this down?” I say, holding back a wave of shock and anger at Robin’s confession.

With all this hot-and-cold nonsense, I’ve been having terrible flashbacks to that last year at the Hummingbird.

My fight-or-flight instincts are telling me to raise hell or shut down and get out before I get hurt again.

But my heart doesn’t want this to be over, so I’m trying to hear her out.

“Key’s worried about you,” Robin says, watching my reaction like I might catch flame. “About how you’ll feel when this is over.”

I put down my drill and ball my fists, trying to control my gut reaction of rage and hurt. “I didn’t realize the two of you were holding forums on my mental well-being,” I say.

“We weren’t trying to go behind your back,” Robin says, kicking away scrap pieces of wood on the floor between us. “It just came up. Please don’t be mad at Key. This is what best friends do. Put their noses in your business.”

“I’ll deal with Key later,” I say. “But instead of making unilateral decisions about our relationship based on conversations I wasn’t involved in, could you talk to me first?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Robin puts down the putty knife she was using to pry the built-in from the wall and looks at me fully for the first time.

“But Key did have a point. How does this end? Can we really live in this fuzzy gray area of sleeping together and being all lovey-dovey and then, bam, it’s over? Don’t we need boundaries, clarity?”

“We have clarity. We’re doing this because we agreed it makes sense for us, and I’ve never felt clearer-headed in my life,” I say, trying to convince myself it’s true, even though the past few days do make me question how I’m really going to feel when this is over.

Until Robin got all broody after the Alice in Wonderland dinner, I was having the time of my life, and I desperately want that to continue.

I walk closer, tucking my hands into my coveralls’ pockets, and say gently, “This ending will be easier. Mutual. And we’ll both have something else to focus on next in our lives. ”

“Sure,” Robin says skeptically. “In theory.”

“If it doesn’t go like we’re hoping, if it’s harder than it seems…

well, at least we’ll have been happy for a while,” I say.

“I know it’s not forever. We’ve both got careers and lives outside of this place.

My agent emailed a couple days ago and she’s itching to get me back on the road.

But for right now, this inn is where I want to be. What do you want?”

“I want that too,” Robin says, her voice tender. She cups my face with her hand, running her thumb along my cheekbone. “Being together here again has been unbelievably wonderful, against all odds. But I’ve already hurt you too much. What if I do it again?”

I place my hand over hers, holding on to her touch.

“We can never guarantee we won’t hurt each other.

We’re imperfect people in a messy, complicated situation.

” I pull Robin’s hand to my mouth and kiss the pad of her thumb.

“But we can promise to try. We can do our best to take care of each other and ourselves for the time being. Don’t you think that will make it easier to say goodbye? ”

The worry in Robin’s brow fades a little as she looks at me. “I hope so.”

I never thought I’d be the one making this argument.

When we first met, I was so closed off to love, to trusting someone.

Robin, with her goofy sense of humor and thirst for life, cracked my shell wide open and talked me into trying things I never thought I’d do.

And now here I am, fighting for this risky opportunity to be the person I was again, to feel the passion and purpose and possibility I once felt.

I lean closer to Robin, so close that I can see every eyelash framing her big, golden-brown, trusting eyes. “So we can keep doing this?”

“Please, god.” Robin grabs me by the hips and pulls me to her for a passionate kiss, one that feels like fresh air after a weekend of holding my breath.

—

The next day, I storm into Key to Happiness Art Studio and march straight to the back room.

“You told Robin to break up with me?” I ask the moment I spot Key at her easel.

She turns to look at me, brush aloft. “Um, no. Not exactly.”

I cross my arms. “So what did you tell her?”

“The same thing I told you. That I think it’s a dangerous idea. That you’ll get your heart broken again when it’s over.”

“And I told you that it’s my decision to make, yet you went to Robin anyway.”

Key sighs and sets her paintbrush on a side table. “Aren’t you setting yourself up for pain later for the sake of a little comfort now? Do you really believe this can end well?”

“Yes,” I reply immediately. “This isn’t some elaborate act of self-sabotage.

I’ve thought it through, a lot more than you have.

I’m happy, Key. Can’t you see that? For once, I actually feel like I’m in the right place at the right time and doing the right thing.

And even if it is a mistake, it’s my right to make it. ”

“It is,” Key says, hands on her hips. “And I’m glad you’re happy now. But it’s really hard watching your best friend wind up to punch herself in the face without stopping her.”

I want to scoff, but a tiny voice in the back of my head stops me, asking if maybe she’s right. If maybe I am sabotaging my own chance at moving on. If I thought this arrangement was a relaxing nap in the sun, but I’ve actually been lying on railroad tracks and now the train’s a-coming.

“I shouldn’t have gone to Robin like that,” Key says, guard lowering. “But I did it because I love you and don’t want to see you get hurt. You get that, right?”

“I understand why you did it,” I admit. “And even though I’m ninety percent annoyed, I’m also ten percent grateful that you care about me enough to be honest, even if it’s not something I want to hear. Well, I’m a hundred percent grateful for you all the time. I’m just also annoyed right now.”

Key pulls off her smock and wraps me in a hug. “Fine, I’ll let you punch yourself in the face,” she says, her words muffled by my shoulder. “I’m sorry for inserting myself in your weird situationship with Robin. How can I make it up to you?”

I pull back, holding Key by the elbows. “Are you done painting for the day?”

“I can be.”

“Good.” I pull my keys out of my pocket and shake them. “I know just what you can do.”

—

A couple hours later, Key and I admire our handiwork, standing with Thembi in front of Drizzled Donuts.

“What do you think?” I ask.

“I’m stunned!” Thembi says, ecstatic. “When Key first told me about your windows, I knew it would be a nice facelift, but this is beyond my wildest dreams. It already feels like the heart of the shop.” She beams at the stained-glass window stretching above the storefront.

It’s a pattern of colorful circles that don’t immediately read as donuts but become recognizable when you spot the sprinkles and drizzles.

It has a sense of playfulness and joy that isn’t always found in a medium associated with stodgy old churches, but it’s also modern and geometric enough to not look childish or corny.

“It’s really one of your best,” Key agrees. “Maybe you should use food as your inspiration more often.”

I pull out my phone to photograph the finished product of weeks of work.

I can almost always find something to improve upon in my windows, but with this one, I wouldn’t change a single pane.

Even though I nearly lost my fingerprints from all the cuts and burns working on those sprinkles.

“It’ll look great with the morning light,” I say, closer than I’d usually come to bragging out loud.

“You’ll have to send me pictures, Thembi. ”

“I will,” she promises. “And I can’t believe you did it for such a low rate. As a small business owner, I could kiss you for that. Thank you so much.”

“And what do I get?” Key says in a playfully chiding tone. “I learned to install a window. Don’t I at least get a pat on the back?”

“You learned to assist me while I install a window.” I theatrically clap Key’s shoulder. “But there you go.”

“I can do better than that.” Thembi opens the door to her shop, jingling the attached bell. “Can I send y’all home with some donuts?”

Key and I happily agree. As we wait for Thembi to box up the day’s leftovers, Key turns to me. “I’m next, right? I’ve tried to be patient, but I’m dying to see what magic you’re working for me.”

I smile, picturing the fresh design I’ve sketched out for Key’s studio. “Don’t worry,” I say. “I saved the best for last.”