If It Makes You Happy

by Julie Olivia

Burke’s Bakery is both my biggest accomplishment and one of my biggest problems. I love it.

“When can I make terrible decisions?” Emily asks. “When you’re fifty.” “Oh, wow, maybe by then I’ll be old enough to date Josh too,” Emily says sarcastically. I smirk. “He’ll be dead by then, the old geezer.”

LMAO

Copper Run smells like crunching leaves and breezes that bite. There’s a hint of something warm in the air too—baked bread of some kind. Maybe a pie or biscuits in the oven. Mazzy Star hums from my neighbor’s open window.

Somehow, her being annoyed with me only makes her prettier. Flushed cheeks serve her well.

Wisps of cinnamon litter parts of the table. They smell a bit like Michelle, but not quite. I have to start somewhere though. Birdie’s favorite pastry was cinnamon rolls. I’m determined to know Michelle’s too. It’s like an itch I need to scratch.

“And, Cliff?” “Hmm?” “You’re insufferable.” I give a full-blown grin. I can’t help myself. “So I’ve heard.”

I’m quickly realizing that not much bothers Cliff Burke.

“And, yes,” Cliff says, leaning in closer like we’re sharing a secret, “I had a feeling you’d try before I got here, so I brought extra.”

Yes!

“He’s a loser,” Cliff repeats, moving back to kneading dough. “Why else would he cheat on you? You’re stunning.” My heart skips as I stammer, “Wh-what?” “That’s not an opinion. That’s a fact. You are. Even when you scowl at me.”

“See? I was right. You’re beautiful, even when you scowl.” I roll my eyes. “Oh, shut up, Cliff.” But the simple moment has me smiling, and I can’t wipe it off my face.

“People smile around me more.” “You’re a good person to smile around,” Cliff says, taking a bite.

He’s so different from me. If I’m autumn, he’s spring. He’s all smiles and glowing warmth. His blue eyes are so deep, like the first beautiful clear sky of the season. He likes to rest them on my breeze-blown hair, drift them down to my painted lips or to the cardigan falling off my shoulder.

His cheeks are flushed. The curved jaw is somehow clearly defined, ticking and denting near his molars as he grinds them in irritation. His forearms flex—corded veins under a dusting of brown hair—with each extension of his defined fingers. And suddenly, I’m very out of breath at the sight of it all.

I don’t want to remove her walls because that’d destroy her strength, but I’d kill for more peeks into the other side.

Michelle won’t laugh out of pity, so when I do get one, I know it’s real. I know I’ve cracked through yet another brick in her wall.

“You know…maybe we should give him a chance. Let him come over for dinner or something. Don’t you trust her?” He pulls in a breath and sighs. “Yes.” “At least spend an evening with him.” Cliff hums for a second, then nods. “Fine. But you have to endure it too.”

“I love women in their thirties.”

I sheepishly confess, “Men don’t want women like me.” “Like what?” Unfun, too serious, workaholics. “I don’t know,” I mumble. He gives a devilish, absolutely wicked smile. “I think men secretly want women just like you,” he growls, leaning even closer. “And the men who don’t are cowards.”

Creaking forward on my mattress, I spot six large cherries in the grass below my windowsill. Across our yards and in his kitchen, Cliff curls a single finger, gesturing for me to come over. The motion snags on me, coaxing my chest forward, like his finger has a string tied to my body. But when I don’t noticeably budge, Cliff mouths, Please.

A laugh bubbles out of me. “Cliff…this is—” “All right?” he finishes for me with an unsure lilt to his words. “Is it all right?” “It’s all right,” I agree, but all right comes out more like perfect, and I can tell he knows. I reach up to twist my earring. “This, uh…this isn’t because of the card today, is it?” His face scrunches up. “I’ve been planning this since you first told me about your birthday.” Cliff waggles his eyebrows. “Alex made it easier for me to look good doing it.”

And together, with our plates of potpie, we eat with tiny forks beside the dim lamp and the cool glow of the TV.

“Divine!” she squeals, rounding the desk and barreling into my arms. The breath rushes out of me on impact. Her hands loop around my neck. I let my palms settle on her waist, squeezing her sides, inhaling the soft burnt-sugar perfume. The hints of rosemary—rosemary—in her hair. The soft strands that fall over my nose. She bounces in my arms before pulling away. I reluctantly let go, watching with a wide grin as she circles back to look at the guest book entry again. She’s beautiful like this—thrilled and entirely overwhelmed. I don’t know what lies she tells herself; there’s no way she could be underwhelming.

The glow of the small lamp on the front desk reflects on her pink cheeks, casting her eyes in a dark shadow, where she peers at me with a grin. The world tilts. It suddenly feels like I’m falling through the ground, straight to the center of the earth. God, she’s breathtaking.

GOD!!

“Betty and I were saying the other day how if you wanna find Michelle, you might as well look for Cliff too. You two are always in the same spot.”

“You deserve better. And Michelle’s a total knockout. She’s the kind of woman Tracy wanted to be. Except this woman likes you. For you.”

The place smells incredible, like vanilla and cinnamon spice and cakes. It smells like Cliff.

“I like your hair like that.” “O-oh,” I stammer out. “Uh, with my hair pulled back?” “Yeah, you look good.” “It’s just my hair.” “That and the way you’re pulling the pan out of the oven,” he says. “You look like a natural. You’re not burning yourself at least.”

“Your turn,” I say, nudging my boot out, as if prompting him. “You have enough feelings for the both of us.”

He lets out a heavy exhale. “Listen, I’ve been told most of my life that there’s a lot of me to go around. You don’t need to be nice about it.” “Well, if you’re exhausting, so am I,” I say. “High-maintenance. Argumentative. Abrasive. According to my ex, boring.” I scoff. “First off, never call yourself that,” he says sternly with a pointed finger. “And second, what I’m hearing are other words. Classy. Opinionated. And intimidating to people who can’t handle strong women. Which I really like about you.”

“Oh, yes, we are.” He slowly walks over to where I lurk. He tucks a palm into my elbow so that I release my crossed arms, sliding one of my hands into his and wrapping the other around my lower back. I suck in a breath when he tugs me closer and lowers his cheek down to meet the side of mine. And then we sway.

“You’re very easy to like, Cliff,” I say. “I was serious. I don’t like most people. But you were right; I do like you. So, don’t apologize for your jokes now. I enjoy them.”

I like Cliff Burke. Like like, as Emily might say. I like his deadpan humor and his messy, complicated life. I like the fact that he needs touch as much as he needs oxygen. I like that he says what he wants and takes what he wants and doesn’t apologize for either. I like that, at the end of the day, he’s my friend. I like Cliff Burke. And this charming guy who has the entire small town wrapped around his finger?

“Don’t do something you think you’ll regret,” I whisper. He shakes his head without hesitation. “I wouldn’t regret this.”

And that—that right there—is the exact moment I know I need to kiss him. Because, despite Cliff taking a risk, he immediately backtracks when he thinks I’m uncomfortable. Because he’s that kind of friend. He’s that kind of man.

There’s a lot of uncertainties, but one thing is for sure: I’m not uncertain about Cliff.

Cliff sinks his hand into my hair, cups my head, and collides his lips with mine. It takes the breath out of me. I stumble, but his other hand steadies my waist. The flame in my chest licks up to my throat.

I want to tell her that she knows me more intimately than anyone has in years. I want to touch Michelle in any way that will reassure her I meant every word I said outside of Winston’s house. I don’t regret kissing her, and I hate that our night has turned out like this.

“Emily, I’m talking to you either way. Do you want it in front of everyone or alone?”

The last thing I want is to lose her for the two months I have her. I have to forget the kiss if it means I get to keep her. And I need to keep her while I can.

My relationship with Cliff means more to me than anything else in Copper Run, which is a sentence I never thought would cross my mind weeks ago. I’ll miss him. I’ll miss the whole Burke family.

It’s raining outside, beating down on the sidewalk and splattering against the glass windows. But in the center of the lobby is the only woman who could make a rainy day seem not half bad. Maybe it’s because she’s a bigger storm cloud, and I like that about her. At her feet, Rocket sits, his nose wiggling, no doubt smelling the last croissants of the day finishing in the oven.

“So are you. You gave up a lot to be here for her,” I say.

I don’t want to date anyone. And it’s not because I’m nervous. It’s because I want the storm cloud of a woman in front of me. I want the unattainable. Problem is, I can’t say no to this woman either way.

“I like that you’re smiling again.”

“You’ve caught the bug of this town. I can tell.”

“Sure. I’ll go on a walk with you.” He wraps an arm around my waist and coaxes me back to the driveway and down to the sidewalk. Rocket trails beside us, bopping down the street with his nose wiggling into each plant.

“Because you deserve a chance at happiness,” I finally breathe out.

“Do you know you’re in love with my sister?”

“Shells, he talked about you all night. All. Night.”

“I really like him, Sara. And I don’t know what to do.”