Page 216 of Tangled with the Tight End

I pick up the chocolate croissant she and Syd brought me from the bakery.

I take a bite and let it melt in my mouth. “You’re not wrong,” I say around the bite. “I haven’t been very hungry.” I take another bite. “This is so good.”

They stick around another hour, eventually giving up tiptoeing around my emotional minefield. I tell the story of our breakup—keeping it simple and making sure they know it was mutual.

As soon as I finish talking, Daisy switches the subject to how everyone’s Christmas went.

I don’t share anything. Christmas is my last happy memory with Declan.

Daisy notices my silence. “Winona, remember that Christmas when we were in high school?” She goes into the story, even though we all know it by heart. Emberleigh stands and walks over to where I’m sitting on the couch.

She plops down next to me and whispers, “I brought an extra box of pastries. I’ll leave them in the kitchen. I think it’s perfectly acceptable to live on croissants for the time being.”

I smile, resting my head on her shoulder. She wraps an arm around me.

Carli says, “Oh my gosh! Remember we hid that life-sized Santa in the hog barn? I can still see my dad’s face when he discovered it.”

Daisy laughs. “We thought we were being so smooth.”

I love that my friends came here—that they’re trying their best to sponge up my pain.

Cass makes eye contact with me, and whatever she sees sends her into action.

“Well, thanks for coming over!” she says, standing abruptly and walking to the door.

Though momentarily stunned, everyone stands and follows her lead, grabbing their coats, hugging me goodbye and heading out.

Emberleigh hands the pastry box to Cass before following Syd out. “These are for later. For Winona.”

Cass nods.

As soon as the door shuts, Cass turns to me. “You looked like you’d had enough.”

“It was good they came,” I say. “And yeah. I don’t even know what I need.” I study my hands and then I look up at Cass. “I think I’m going to go over to Sycamore.”

There’s something about being there that feels safe. And I’ve never skipped a week of visiting there. Harold would make note of it if I broke my streak.

“That sounds really good,” Cass says. “I’m going back to work.”

I change into a sweater and jeans and drive over to the senior assisted living center.

Before I go inside, I open my phone for the first time since the day of our breakup. I’ve been avoiding calls and texts—avoiding social media like the plague.

I have over one hundred texts. I can’t believe it.

I open the ones from my customers first, thinking they’re asking for reschedules or trying to set up more Winona for Hire jobs.

The first one is Sally, Jenny’s owner. I heard what happened. Just want to tell you no one handles Jenny like you. Let me know when you’re available again.

Old Man Saunders texted me. I didn’t know he knew how to text. His text simply says, I don’t know what I would have done without you, Winona.

The messages go on and on. Apparently news of our breakup spread through town.

And what do my customers do?

They’re making sure I know I matter.

Text after text, voicemail after voicemail, each one of them says something they appreciate about me. No Plain Jane. No gold digger. No mention of my breakup.