Chapter One

Evie

Evelyn Granger knew from experience what it looked like when life was about to attack—and this attack was going to be Shark Week worthy.

The minute Evie saw her ghost of exes past, her already complicated day set itself on fire. She closed her eyes for a moment and manifested herself being anywhere but there in her parents’ coffee shop, wearing the same uniform she wore in high school, working the same job she worked in high school. But upward job mobility wasn’t an option when one’s dad was diagnosed with kidney disease and could no longer run the family business, Grinder. In fact, doctors’ appointments and dialysis meant giving up her dream job to come back to her teenage job as a glorified barista.

What had she done to piss off the gods? Because this could not be happening. Not when she was wearing coffee-cup themed leggings, a tank that read “Get Your Grind On”, and holding a Toasty bagel balls sign. Unfortunately, when one’s husband catches an acute case of Slippery Dick Syndrome and leaves you to raise a child alone, passing out toasty bagel balls can become the new norm.

“Yo. Babe,” her ex-husband, Mateo, said in that bro-tone he used that made her stomach curdle. Dressed in ankle-hugging jeans, checkered Vans, and a stone-washed shirt, he looked like he was headed to the skate park instead of being a dad to their sixteen-year-old daughter.

Then there was the sparkly, pretty, plus-one on his arm, whose coed smile, designer leggings, and yoga top did little to conceal her barely there baby bump—nor the extremely recent addition that was winking from her ring finger. A diamond that cost way more than their daughter’s private school tuition Mateo harped on and on about. Are you serious right now?

“When are you due?” Evie asked, trying to keep the status quo in their relationship going. Surface questions, polite smiles at kid-swap, and flipping him the bird when no one was looking.

Heather curved her perfectly manicured fingers around her belly and gave a dreamy smile. “I’m sixteen weeks along.”

“Does Camila know?” she asked.

Mateo and Heather exchanged a look that made Evie’s skin itch. And there was her answer. A resounding no. Not that she was surprised. Had Camila known her dad, who saw her only every other weekend, was going to become a full-time parent to another kid, there would have been heartbreak. Dramatic, over-the-top, soul-crushing heartbreak.

Evie considered getting mad, but she’d wasted so much mad on her ex over the years it would take a lot to muster up even a “Screw you.” If she wasn’t so tired, she might have even had a good belly laugh at the situation. The kind that brought tears to her eyes. But the tears threatening to break through her fortress of everything’s fine were humorless. And unexpected.

Mateo walked out sixteen years ago, right before Camila was even born. Oh, he’d always paid child support and came around most weekends, but for the day-to-day he’d been absent, especially in the beginning when he’d been finishing up law school.

When it came to dating, all the Granger women were crazy. Her mother dated men who were too young—“They work harder to impress,” she’d say—her daughter dated men who were too old—“Boys my age have the emotional maturity of frappuccino!”—and Evie, well—to the disappointment of her family and coworkers—didn’t date at all.

A prime example of why was standing right in front of her.

“When are you going to tell her?” Evie asked. And again she was met with silence.

Having an absent co-parent had been especially hard in the earlier years. Evie’s parents stepped in, giving Evie the love and support she desperately needed. But having an absent dad who wandered in and out like the changing of tides had been devastating for Camila. And no amount of love and support could make up for the missing hole an absent parent blasted through a child’s heart.

“We were going to tell her at the wedding,” Mateo said, running a hand through his straight black hair.

“And when is that?”

Another look was exchanged, and that turned those itches into hives. “We’re getting married at the end of the month. In Hawaii.” Mateo said the last part as if it didn’t affect their aerophobic daughter, who couldn’t walk onto a plane and not hyperventilate.

“Hawaii?” Evie nearly knocked the toasty bagel balls over. She couldn’t afford a trip for two to Hawaii. She could barely afford the car insurance for a teenager. And in a month? It just wasn’t possible. Mom couldn’t work both shifts, Dad had dialysis, and Camila—

Shit!

“Camila has overnight cheer camp that weekend. It’s mandatory and gives them a chance to win an early bid to Nationals.” It was the most important week of the year for Camila and her teammates. It’s where they got to know each other, made inside jokes, bonded. If she didn’t participate, she ran the risk of being left out of the fun. For the entire year. “You’re supposed to be on carpool duty and drive the kids to Grand Junction.”

“I’m sure she’ll understand,” Heather said with the confidence of a woman whose kid had never suffered disappointment. “Plus, if she can’t make it, we can always FaceTime with her.”

“FaceTime?” No way. Heather might not care if her soon-to-be stepdaughter was there but Camila would. So much so that just thinking about it made Evie’s heart hitch. “I’ll find a way for us to go. Maybe I can call her coach, explain the situation. I can ask Julie to pull extra shifts at the shop,” she said, referring to her closest friend and the shop’s part-time assistant manager. “Mom can handle the dialysis appointments. And…” She trailed off because the energy of the room had shifted.

Oh God!

“You don’t actually want her there, do you?” she asked.

“It’s not that. It’s just a kid-free wedding,” Mateo explained as if she were the one not grasping the enormity of what would transpire in the next few moments. But Evie knew. She knew her kid’s relationship with her father, how she viewed her self-worth, and what her relationships with men would look like were on the line.

Evie set the tray down and lowered her voice, praying she got through to him. He might be a self-focused philanderer, but he wasn’t cruel. And this was cruel. “She isn’t just any kid, Mateo. She’s your kid. And she’ll be heartbroken if she isn’t there. You don’t want me there, fine. We can figure something out. I’ll figure something out.”

Wasn’t that what Evie had spent the past year doing? Figuring out other people’s shit?

Despite what people thought, she always felt one step away from completely losing her own shit. Even more so now, as she watched the self-involved lovebirds saunter away with their orders, hand-in-hand, as if they hadn’t just left her in yet another bucket of poop.

She remembered the moment when she realized that she was in it alone. When she realized that she couldn’t be all things to all people. No matter how hard she tried, she was going to fail at something: parenting, her career, her personal life—or maybe all three. She knew why people talked about the sandwich generation. After Mateo walked out, she was forced to move back to her childhood home, sleep in her childhood bed, and raise her child on her own.

But three generations under one roof meant three generations of opinions. From arguing about what show to stream, to how to modernize the coffee house, to who was the cuter Hemsworth brother—it was a constant challenge for Evie to meet the needs of her mom and her daughter, and she often felt like the referee of the family.

But then there was also three generations of love all shoved into one house. Evie loved her neighbors, and she loved her childhood home, but lately it was as if they were living on top of each other. Lately, it felt as if Evie was using her parents as a crutch—and she was ready to walk on her own.

If you’d asked her friends, they’d say Evie slayed at life. Unknown to them, Evie’s life was one Xanax away from falling apart.

…

“Don’t let that man take up one more cell of energy,” Moira, her mother, said while placing a fresh batch of toasty bagel balls on the tray. “And don’t you dare use him as an excuse to stop dating. You’ve made so much progress lately.”

“I’ve gone out on two dates.” Evie placed each ball in its own paper liner. “One wanted to measure my neck for a collar and the other didn’t believe in deodorant. That’s what happens when you swipe right on life. It’s time to admit that I have the worst picker ever. All the Granger women do. Look at you and Dad.” She pointed to the mustached man behind the counter wearing a pink flamingo shirt, pressed white skinny jeans that were cuffed at the ankle, and a pair of Coach slip-on sneakers with the classic logo in rainbow colors.

“Yes, look at us. I was married to my best friend for sixteen years. Had a beautiful daughter and a beautiful life.”

“Mom, when I was twelve, he announced to the world that he was gay.” The world announced back that they already knew. Well, the world minus Moira and Evie. In a blink, Moira’s life went full circle, going from best friend to lovers and back to best friends.

Her mom gave a casual shrug. “So he likes men? So do I. In all shapes, sizes, and ages it seems. In fact, last night I met up with this personal trainer from Boulder who can crush a melon with his—”

“Remember when you used to say, ‘I’m not your friend, I’m your mother’? Well, I need you to be my mother right now.”

“You’re right.” Moira took Evie’s hand. “And this mother notices how much her daughter always takes care of everyone and everything else, leaving no time for herself. It’s time for you to take care of you. And I want you to know that you can count on me to be there for you.”

It took a moment for Evie to form a response through the emotion clogging her throat. “Thanks, Mom.”

With a motherly pat to the cheek, Moira walked behind the bar top to help with the never-ending line. Grinder wasn’t just a local coffee shop; it was an institution in the Denver area. People had been coming there for thirty years.

This place meant everything to her dad, and her dad meant everything to her, which was why she plastered on a smile for the next customer and said, “Toasty bagel ball?”

Her gaze locked on to a pair of familiar blue eyes and a strange unfurling happened in her stomach. Warm and tingly and pheromone induced. It was as surprising as it was unwanted.

“Toasty balls?” her neighbor, car-pool buddy, almost-one-night stand, and arch nemesis, who always managed to swarm when there was chum in the waters of her life, said. “I didn’t know that was a service you provided.”

“Are you offering yourself up for scientific study?” she asked.

“I like my balls just the way they are.” A challenging look entered Jonah’s eyes and more parts, inappropriate parts, tingled, igniting a heat that zigged then zagged, colliding in the dead center of her chest. A clear sign that her anger was starting to rise. A usual occurrence when in his presence.

He was dressed in a faded University of Colorado tee, which had a coffee stain on the hem, day-old sweats, and a five o’clock shadow from summers past. Like Evie, his life was a complete shit show. Unlike Evie, he didn’t try to hide it, instead wearing it loud and proud.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

He picked up a bagel ball and popped it into his mouth. “I heard that you were throwing a shindig tomorrow night and I was wondering where my invite was.”

With a beaming smile, Evie dug through her apron pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Consider yourself Cinderellaed.”

He eyeballed the letter suspiciously before accepting it. She couldn’t help the victorious grin that overtook her when he opened it. He met her gaze, then smiled.

“Congratulations! I didn’t know you were going back to school.”

“What?” Panic hit like a sledgehammer. She grabbed it back, glanced at the acceptance letter to CU Denver’s business school, then hastily shoved it back in her apron. “Whoops. Wrong one.” A big whoops, since that letter was a secret—even from her family. Especially from her family. She’d had so many decisions made for her, she was taking her life back. If she went back to school it would be because she decided to, not because her family guilted her into it. This was her life, her decision. Just like writing out this invite for her neighbor. “Here.”

She handed him the proper letter. He took it, and she remained silent as he read it and knew when he got to the good part.

“What the hell is this?” He held up the letter and jabbed a finger at the bolded paragraph in the middle of the missive.

“That is a summons for you to appear in front of the Beautification Board to discuss the current state of your yard.”

“You are the Beautification Board.”

“I’m part of the board.” She softened her voice and took a small step forward.

“You could have just come to me.”

“I did. Three times and there has been zero change. Your lawn resembles a wheat field. To be fair, I asked the board to give you a chance to explain your landscape plan of action before they fine you.”

She left off the again, but it hung in the air.

His wife passed away two years ago, leaving behind a teenage son, an infant daughter, and a distraught husband, who went from being a big player at a prestigious investment bank to an at-home day-trader who wore T-shirts with holes in the armpit. He also wore his grief like a familiar old blanket that wrapped around him and everything he touched.

Jonah crumpled up the letter and stuffed it into his pocket. “Is this about my pomegranate tree?”

He was referring to the pomegranate tree that had launched a neighbor-war equivalent to Hatfield and McCoy.

“No. This is about our neighbors, who call, show up at my house, at my work, all to bitch about your yard. As if somehow, because your tree hangs over my property line and drops concrete-staining fruit onto my pathway and the sidewalk and attracts rodents, I’m the responsible party. I’ve held them off as long as I can.”

“I just need a little more time. Plus, what’s the big deal, it’s a yard. There are more important things in life than a fucking yard.”

Evie knew he was talking about his deceased wife, Amber, and what it must be like to raise two kids alone. She felt for him, she really did, but she couldn’t handle one more thing on her plate. She had so many plates spinning that one more distraction would have them crashing down like a Greek wedding.

“I’ve held them off as long as I could. But you’re on your own, buddy. Plus, your landscaping skills need work.”

He stepped closer and a whiff of his dreamy cologne engulfed her, awakening her senses. Or maybe it was the stiff Denver breeze coming in from a customer who forgot to close the front door.

“I don’t comment on your ladyscaping skills.”

“You’ve never seen my ladyscaping.”

“Is that the story you’re sticking with?”

“Fine. You saw it once, but that didn’t count.”

“I know I’ve said it before, but I’m sorry for how that night ended,” he said quietly, reaching out to brush the back of his knuckles against hers. She jerked away like she’d connected with the end of a live wire.

“And like I said before, I get it.” But did she? Because while her mind knew Jonah was still struggling with the way things had transpired in the last few months of his wife’s life, Evie’s gut was screaming that he’d stopped for an entirely different reason. A reason she desperately wanted to understand. Because now there was this awkward strain between them, and she didn’t know how to fix it.

Didn’t want to fix it. It was safer being enemies than friends at this point. At the moment she couldn’t think of another person who grated on her nerves more than her messy neighbor. Just the way he took care of his appearance was enough to send her off the edge.

Then there was that familiar feeling that pinballed in her chest, banging against each rib, growing to the size of a sledgehammer by the time it reached her confidence. Rejection.

The burn added to her already scorched heart.