I walk to the front of the store to lock the door and I spot it. Right outside on the ground is a plastic drink bottle.

“Damn it.” I hate litter, and it’s been left there deliberately from the way it’s tucked against the building.

I push open the door, and pick up the bottle. It’s full of water, which is still pretty cold.

“That’s mine. Sorry. I forgot to grab it.”

I turn at the sound of Josh’s voice. He’s running back toward me with a grin on his face. What the hell?

“You conned me out of a bottle of water when you had this?” I wave the bottle in the air.

“Maybe I just wanted to see you.”

Damn it. He’s using the dimples against me. Again. “You are the single most frustrating person I’ve ever met.”

“That’s a compliment, coming from you.”

I hand him the bottle. “There you go.”

When he takes the bottle, his fingers brush mine. And just like the first time that happened, there’s electricity between us. It tears at the heart he shattered six years ago. I spent so long putting it back together.

Without another word, I turn, closing the door behind me and leaving him on the other side. The last time I cried over him was not long after Melly was born, and he’s not going to make me cry again, even if my eyes prick with tears.

I lock the door and walk away. If I look back, I’m so scared I’ll cave. I’m not sure what he wants, but it sure as hell isn’t me.

It never was.

* * *

Forget selling it tomorrow. I take the rest of the apple pie home to eat for myself. It’s the least I can do after my day.

How does he make me feel like this after all this time?

If he didn’t want me then, why is he hanging around now?

It’s so confusing. Right when I thought my life was sorted out.

Melly climbs up onto the couch with me. She’s had dinner and her bath, and she’s in her pyjamas while I eat a big plate of pie and ice cream.

“Want some?” I ask.

She nods, and I pick up a spoonful and hold it to her mouth. She chews, and I wait until she’s swallowed.

“Do you like Josh?”

Melly nods again, snuggling up to my side. “He’s funny. And he likes pie, too.”

“He sure does.” I feed her another spoonful, stroking her hair with my free hand. “I love you, Amelia Carruthers.”

She beams up at me, still chewing, but her arms wrap around my waist and when she’s finished, she buries her face in the side of my chest.