“After my parents died, I had a really hard time feeling comfortable with my life. Then I met Mrs. Baker and Raphael in Nashville and fell in love with helping people celebrate the big things—the important, filled-with-love things. Then suddenly I wanted to do it myself. And, maybe because I had a hard time really connecting with people, that felt like the only dream I could have. When Mrs. Baker offered to sell me half of the flower shop? That idea instantly consumed me. I could literally buy and cement the slice of life I’d become comfortable with. Preserve it. Never let it change… But then I published my secrets and realized that I wanted more—I want more—than one slice of comfortable. I want the whole messy pie.”

The satisfying feeling of having an epiphany about her life waned into an ache.

“That being said, I think it’s time for me to go back to that slice,” she continued. “At least for a while. I might be open to new possibilities now, but I still owe it to myself to see that through, too. Plus, I don’t think seeing one particular slice of pie around town all the time would feel too great. I might have confronted my past emotional self-preservation, but that doesn’t mean the urge to protect myself went away entirely.”

Sloane gave her an apologetic look. Emma surprised her with an encouraging smile.

“Then I’ll help you pack,” she said. “When you’re ready.”

Sloane put down her spoon and hugged Emma tight. Then she smiled at the thought of her mother, years ago, standing where she was now. Eating ice cream and talking to her best friend.

It made the pain in Sloane’s chest hurt a little less.

…

Brady was standing on the front porch, feeling a whole hell of a lot more than he should have been feeling while holding a paintbrush.

Five days had gone by since the disaster at the auditorium. During those five days, he’d all but stayed in the apartment or out of sight at the bar. Business had more than picked up, but most of the patrons wanted to give him a piece of their mind one way or the other, thanks to the video Carol had streamed live going viral. His uncle and Dixon had been nice enough to cover for him, but Brady knew that couldn’t last.

Just like the pit of despair in his stomach that hadn’t moved an inch since he’d left Sloane standing there, laying it all out on the line to him, wasn’t going to fill.

But you left her, and then you disappeared.

Feeling the shame of what he’d done wasn’t new, but that morning Brady had decided to clean his truck to keep his mind busy, and, when he found a paintbrush, he’d felt a whole slew of new emotions.