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Tansy wasn’t in Kansas anymore. She was pretty sure she was in Palm Springs—1960s Palm Springs, to be precise.
“Anyway, um, if we’re getting all with the heavy, I might as well mention that I want to wear my mom’s wedding dress, okay?” “Of course,” she murmured, heart aching. “I think that’s beautiful.” Tansy laughed. “They got married in the eighties. Adjust your expectations accordingly.”
She’d never wooed anyone before, never even tried. She’d never felt compelled to woo anyone before, to put in the effort. Not until she met Tansy. Now she was all in knots and—pastries were stupid. Delicious, but insufficient emotional currency.
“I tried to get them to write, Sorry I’m an emotionally stunted bitch in gel frosting, but apparently that’s not something they do.”
“You told the last person you rang up to have a day. Not a nice day; just a day.”
You are more than your achievements, Gemma. You are brilliant, and ambitious, and you are good, do you hear me? And what you do or do not achieve in this life has no bearing on your value.”
