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Some men, when dealing with a not-quite-midlife crisis, might take an extended vacation. Maybe consider a complete career change. They might buy a new car. Start a new relationship. Take up a hobby, like juggling. Or BASE jumping. Me? I buy a building in a town nowhere near the source of my crisis.
My people quota for the day has already been met … and exceeded.
Goodbye, New York. Hello, Serendipity Springs. As easy as that.
“Thank you for always giving me exactly what I needed when I needed it. You’ve been good to me over the years, just as I hope you’ll be good to him.”
Serendipity Springs is no New York. Not even comparable.
“Because you’re my new landlord, and that makes me your problem.” She most certainly is.
“You are not a T.A.R.D.I.S. or a portal. You aren’t even a Narnian wardrobe. There is no Mr. Tumnus or Turkish delight inside you.” I shake a finger at it. “Remember your place. You have one job, and it is not to somehow transport me into the closet of a very attractive man who now thinks I’m some kind of stalker and who also has the power to evict me. Do we understand each other?”
I’m the broke, disheveled failed baker who apparently teleports in llama pajamas.
But all day long, the smell of sweet almond sugar cookies lingers around me, just like thoughts of the woman who baked them. And for the first time in years, I find myself truly longing for something sweet.
I’ve been lucky. And I think Archer Gaines is the physical embodiment of my luck running out.
Now, I am a little girl plucking daisies and getting a different answer with each petal that flutters to the ground. Only instead of he loves me, he loves me not, I’m vacillating between I despise him and I’d like to tie his apron strings once more.
When I need my feet to come back to earth, I remind myself that he wouldn’t try my cookies. And can you really trust a man who refuses a cookie? No. You can’t.
I thought I would be. Until those hopes came smash-crashing down—along with the relationship I thought would be it for me.
With no relationship—or even potential relationship—on the horizon, motherhood seems to grow farther and farther out of my reach.
He’s an adorable nerd trapped in the body of a linebacker.
The two of them are disgustingly adorable. I love it, even if it makes my heart ache with longing for the same thing.
I want to see her at my door rather than strain to hear the sound of her voice from the safety of my office.
He’s the bane of my current existence,
I think in some ways, I mourned the loss of time and effort, the loss of the idea that I’d found my great love as much as I mourned the relationship itself. The idea of being a young mom, of having my life mapped out. All gone in an instant—poof!
His proposal wasn’t a proposal. It was a test. And if someone really loves you, they don’t test you.”
Joke’s on you, pal. Anxiety disorders don’t respond well to pressure.
“Duh. You’re Willa freaking Smith, a single tiny vowel away from being Will Smith. You can do anything.”
Not my circus and Archer is not my fancy-suit-wearing monkey,
Oh, who am I kidding. I am starting to melt for a man I halfway hate. What does this say about me?
Go to therapy, they said. It will be great, they said. They’re all a bunch of dirty, dirty liars.
“Don’t downplay your accomplishments. Honor them. Repeat them. Then build on them.”
Willa’s eyes are so blue. I don’t think I’ve seen a sky that compares.
Kissing Willa feels like the bravest thing I’ve ever done. The bravest … and also the most dangerous. I’ve counted no costs, run no risk analysis. Zero projections for long-term success. The only thought in my head as my mouth moves hungrily against hers is Why did I wait so long? Not as in, so long since we’ve been in this bathroom, but why—and how—did I wait so long in my adult life, how did I live without this kiss? Without Willa?
Now, I’m just plain ruined. Which is fine by me! Because being ruined by Archer Gaines is the best outcome I could hope for.
Honestly, no. I can’t put it into words yet, but with Archer, I want to jam my foot on the gas. I’m ready to end the test drive and take this puppy out on the Autobahn, full speed.
“I’m Archer Gaines, and I’m going to pretend I’m not nervous to meet you even though I want to run right back out the front door.”
But Willa has become like my sun. Lighting up corners in my life I didn’t know were shadowed. Reviving things I thought were long dead or didn’t know existed. Like: a true desire for a family of my own.
It only took standing next to Willa holding a baby who was gnawing on my hand to stir up paternal instincts I never knew I had.
It takes a good friend to climb inside your heartbreak with you. And the very best of friends who will climb inside not just your heartbreak but your nest of clothing when you most likely have chocolate on your face and definitely have jimmies in your bra.
Because it’s Sophie, and she listens but doesn’t judge.
“I love that about you. I love your lightheartedness and your free spiritedness and how your apartment can be such a mess but your cookies are so detailed and perfect. You are a wonderfully beautiful contradiction I never knew I needed, and I love you. I love you, Willa.”
I have no desire to appear in some other person’s closet again. I’ve got my person. And I can’t help but wonder if The Serendipity really somehow did shove us—literally and magically—together.
