27 Ways to Mend His Broken Heart

by Tapscott, Shari L.

  I stare at it, trying not to overthink it. But the thing is, if Kyle actually wants to do the list, then he must be ready to move on. And if he’s ready to move on…

  No, don’t go there.

  Nudging our drinks aside, being careful not to spill them, I open the list and flatten it on the table. The edges are a bit torn, and the thin tissue paper is wrinkled. But it’s all right there, just as it was the last time I saw it.

  “I took Ava her stuff this morning,” Kyle says quietly.

  I look up, my lips parting in surprise. “You did?”

  “Yeah.” He doesn’t quite meet my eyes. “It seemed like the first step—the thing I had to do before I could tackle anything else.”

  “How…was it?”

  A server comes with our meal before Kyle can answer, exchanging the baskets for our table number. Our attention shifts to more pressing matters, and we bump hands reaching for the pepper. A little tingle travels up my arm, but I ignore it.

  I’m not sure Kyle is going to answer until he quietly says, “It was hard.”

  “I would have gone with you.”

  “I know.” He finally meets my eyes. “But I needed to do it myself.”

  “And how is Ava?” I ask, just in case he needs to talk about it.

  Kyle sighs. “She seems fine.”

  “Good.” I take a bite of the breadstick, unsure what else to say. “I’d hate to hear she fell down a well or something.”

  A smile tugs at Kyle’s lips, but he doesn’t give in to it.

  “Anyway.” He leans forward and taps the list. “Are we going to do this or what? You said it would help.”

  I said writing the list would help, not that he should do everything on it. I wasn’t creating some kind of post-breakup bucket list.

  Or maybe I was.

  I look at the list, really look, and realize precisely what I’m staring at. This isn’t just a list of things for Kyle to check off so he can get over Ava—it’s a collection of things he’s always wanted to try, to do, and places he’s wanted to visit.

  This list is a key to Kyle’s heart.

  An idea forms in my head, and I fidget with the possibility. What if this list isn’t just a way to mend his heart? What if it’s actually a way to claim his heart?

  The question is: does Kyle truly need this? It’s been a month. He gave Ava back her stuff, and he’s doing better. So is this for him…or me?

  If it’s for me, then we should leave it alone.

  “Well?” he asks. “Are you going to help me or not?”

  I don’t want to leave it alone.

  I pick up my spoon and dip it into the chicken and dumpling soup, making up my mind. I meet Kyle’s eyes before I take my first bite. “Of course I’m going to help.”

  7

  Returning Ava’s stuff was the hardest thing I’ve ever done—even harder than proposing.

  She met me at the door with a box of my things, and we did the exchange, made some uncomfortable small talk, and that was that. She invited me in, asked if we could talk.

  I declined.

  Kaylee was right—even though it was hard, it feels good—like a weight has been lifted.

  I still miss Ava. Occasionally, it hits me that she’s truly gone, but this feels like a step in the right direction. And that makes me think what the heck—why not complete the list?

  Kaylee hasn’t steered me wrong yet, so it seems reasonable to believe she’s right about this too. Or, maybe, I just want to spend time with her.

  No matter the reason, we find ourselves in the bike shop the day before Thanksgiving. Kaylee’s boss closed the floral shop for tomorrow’s holiday, and I don’t have any tours scheduled until next week, so here we are.

  Fortunately, a different salesman assists us this time. Unfortunately, he’s so focused on Kaylee, I might as well not even exist—and I’m the one here for a bike. He saw us walk into the store and spirited her away so quickly, I didn’t have a chance to utter a word.

  “This one has hydraulic brakes,” he says to Kaylee, giving her a winning smile. “They are far superior to mechanical. This particular model also has a two-piece rotor system, which helps reduce heat and weight.”

  “Oh…good.” Kaylee nods, but I can tell she doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about.

  The thought makes me smile, and when she catches my eye, I raise a teasing brow. She wrinkles her nose at me, her eyes bright, and turns back to the salesman, amused by the situation.

  For a moment, I wonder if she likes him. He’s good-looking, as far as I can tell, and probably a few years older than us. He’s fit, too, and he has this obnoxious cockiness that women seem drawn to.

  I don’t like him.

  “This one comes with semi-metallic brake pads, but we can swap those out if you’d prefer organic or ceramic,” he goes on. “Do you often ride in wet weather, or are you from around here?”

  Kaylee smiles. “I haven’t done much riding since my bike was hot pink and had streamers on it.” She nods toward me. “We’re here to get my friend a bike.”

  The man turns to me as if just realizing I’m here with her. He flashes me a smile, the kind that makes me want to smack the smugness right off his face.

  “Sorry about that, bud,” the salesman says. “I didn’t see you there. What are you looking for?”

  Bud.

  Swallowing back a retort that Kaylee wouldn’t care for, I tell him the kind of riding I intend to do—desert singletrack, and he nods, taking me to a bike like the one he was showing Kaylee, only this one is larger.

  “There isn’t a difference between women’s bikes and men’s bikes?” Kaylee asks.

  The salesman, who tells us his name is Adam, shakes his head. “Not in this style. You just pick the correct size for your height.”

  We look at several different models, in several different price points. Once I’ve narrowed it down to a couple, Adam offers to let us try them out back.

  “Do you want to take out the one I showed you too?” he asks Kaylee.

  “Oh, I don’t know.” She looks at me. “Do I?”

  I shrug. “Why not?”

  “I guess.”

  An hour later, we’re strapping two new bikes to the rack I picked up for the back of my Jeep, and I’m trying not to feel guilty that I talked Kaylee into spending that much money on something I’m not sure she really wants. I’m not sorry she bought it, though. Now we can go together.

  “The guys are going to give you so much crap,” she teases.

  The four-wheel crowd and the mountain bike crowd don’t always see eye-to-eye. Kaylee’s not wrong—my coworkers are going to give me a lot of grief, most likely asking if I’m going to start wearing spandex. (Which I will not be wearing, thank you very much.)

  “I don’t intend to advertise it.” I finish strapping the bikes in, wondering if I should buy a truck just so I can get a pad for the tailgate. It looks easier than messing with these stupid straps and buckles.

  She laughs and then glances back at the store. “So…Adam gave me his number. He told me to call if I wanted him to take me on a trail and give me pointers.”

  I stop what I’m doing and turn to her. “You’re kidding.”

  Kaylee grins. “Nope.”

  “You’re not going to call that—” I cut myself off when Kaylee raises a surprised brow. I clear my throat and amend my words, “Adam.”

  I shouldn’t care. I don’t care. Kaylee can do whatever she wants.

  “I figure you and I can muddle through it together.”

  Relaxing marginally, I turn back to the bikes and give the straps one last tug to ensure they’re tight.

  “Are we still on for tomorrow?” I ask as I start the Jeep.

  “I called my mom to warn her.”

  “Warn her?” I pretend to be offended.

  “Are you serious? She might have to buy another turkey just to feed you.”

  I chuckle, knowing that I’m not the only big eater who’s go
ing to be there. If memory serves, Heath can put away his fair share of turkey.

  “What can I bring?” I ask, and then I glance at her when she doesn’t answer. “What?”

  She fidgets in her seat, fussing with her seatbelt. “That’s such a grown-up question, Kyle. I don’t know. What should I bring to your house?”

  Speaking of my house, I’m not sure if I should be offended at how happy my mother was when she heard Kaylee was coming over. She always pretended to like Ava, but she never got excited to see her.

  “Mom’s making her pumpkin cheesecake,” I tell her.

  “Yeah?” Kaylee’s face lights up. “That’s my favorite.”

  “That’s why she’s making it.”

  She shakes her head. “I haven’t had that in years.”

  “Neither have I. She only makes it for you.”

  The words hang between us, and I end up clearing my throat. When we’re almost to Kaylee’s house, I say, “By the way, Sally from the office thinks I should do a speed dating thing they’re hosting at the community center, so we might as well throw it on the list.”

  Kaylee whips her head my way. She doesn’t look terribly impressed with the idea. “Speed dating?”

  “Lame, I know. I tried to talk her out of it, but she was incredibly persuasive.”

  “That’s because she wants you. I’ll bet you a hundred bucks she’s going too.”

  I laugh—loudly. “I’m pretty sure I’m not Sally’s type, but yeah, she’s going.”

  “Oh, please,” she scoffs. “You’re everyone’s type.”

  I glance at her as I turn into her subdivision. “Oh yeah? Why is that?”

  Her cheeks turn pink, and she purses her lips like she’s not going to answer.

  “No, come on now. You can’t say something like that and clam up on me. Why am I everyone’s type?”

  “You know.”

  “I really don’t.” Chuckling because she’s practically squirming, I pull in front of her house. Her temporary roommate’s car is in the drive, right next to Kaylee’s, so I don’t want to go in yet. When Kaylee attempts to open the door, I hit the locks.

  Rolling her eyes, she tries not to smile. “Very mature, Kyle.”

  As soon as she manually flips her door lock, I lock them again.

  “Kyle!” she exclaims, groaning as she tries not to laugh.

  “Why am I everyone’s type?”

  She leans against her door, facing me. Then she waves her hand in my direction. “You’re…you know.” She looks away, still blushing. “And you’re nice.”

  “What’s ‘you know?’”

  Irritated, and not so amused this time, she meets my eyes. “You’re handsome, Kyle.”

  I cock my head to the side, not bothering to hide my grin. “You think I’m hot?”

  “I didn’t say you’re hot—I said you’re handsome. It’s different.”

  “How is it different?”

  Her eyes flit away from mine, and she crosses her arms. “It’s more classic. Like, your face is just…proportioned well. I don’t know. And you’ll probably age well. You have nice, thick hair, and your eyes are a striking shade of blue, and your mouth is—never mind. This is stupid.”

  “Hmm.” I turn off the engine and mimic her posture, leaning my back against the door. “So you think I’m handsome. I had no idea.”

  I should leave her alone, but I’m enjoying myself too much to stop.

  She growls. “Good grief, Kyle, I didn’t say I think you’re handsome. I was simply saying that girls, in general, think you’re handsome. And I was wrong—you’re not nice. Not even a little bit.”

  I can’t hide my smirk, and I’ve known her too long to bother. Without a word, I unlock the doors, setting her free. She leaps like a racehorse out of the gate.

  I help Kaylee get her bike into the garage and hang it on a large bike hook left by the previous tenant.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow?” I ask her.

  “Yeah.” She won’t look at me.

  I turn around, walking backward down the drive. “So, if I’m everyone’s type, Kaylee, does that mean I’m your type?”

  I raise my eyebrows so she’ll think I’m only messing with her, but…I want to know.

  She hits the button to close the garage door and deadpans, “Goodbye, Kyle.”

  I grin all the way back to my Jeep.

  8

  I need to learn to keep my big mouth closed. And what the heck? Speed dating? Kyle isn’t ready for that. No one is ready for that.

  “How was your date?” Savannah asks as soon as I walk through the door. She’s on the couch, legs crossed, watching an exercise show on TV, eating a bowl of chocolate ice cream. Her mess of blond curls is pinned to the top of her head, and she’s wearing yoga pants and a tank top like she might be planning to exercise at one point or another.

  “It wasn’t a date. I was just out with Kyle.”

  She snorts.

  I sit next to my friend, stealing her bowl and taking a bite of the ice cream. “A lady from his work talked him into going to some stupid speed dating thing at the community center.”

  Savannah looks over, surprised. “But he’s your man.”

  “Well, apparently she and the rest of the world, including Kyle, have missed that memo.”

  “Maybe that’s because you haven’t sent it out yet.”

  Savannah is the most adorable girl in the world, to the point I’d probably be jealous of her if she weren’t my best female friend. She’s a five-foot-nine stage actress, has hair the color of fresh-spun sunshine, the faintest dusting of freckles across her tan nose and cheeks, and blueish-green eyes. She looks like a mermaid who’s been granted legs.

  I look like her pixie sidekick.

  “Have you taken my advice yet?” she asks.

  “No,” I answer glumly.

  In case you’re wondering, Savannah’s advice was that I should kiss Kyle and see what happens. She’s the queen of subtle.

  “The clock is ticking, Kaylee. Eventually, some other girl is going to snare him. He’s a catch.”

  I point the spoon at her. “Thank you for reminding me.”

  She gives me a sympathetic nose scrunch and then rudely steals her ice cream back. “When are we supposed to be at your parents’ house tonight?”

  We’ve been enlisted to make the cranberry sauce and help with a cookie Mom wants to try. She’s feeling ambitious this year—she bought turkey-shaped cookie cutters. Personally, I think we’ll be lucky if they turn out looking vaguely like birds and not misshapen soccer balls.

  “Five,” I tell Savannah.

  Staring at the screen, just a little too casually, she asks, “Is your brother going to be there tomorrow?”

  See there? Savannah’s one to talk. She was my roommate in college, and she’s been smitten with Heath since he helped her hang a bookshelf all those years ago. He’s a nice guy, but I’m not sure he even remembers her name.

  She’s only crashing here until she finds a place of her own, and she hasn’t been here long. Mom invited me to bring her to Thanksgiving, so this will be her big chance to make an impression. Hopefully, it will be a favorable one. She already knows I’m hopping houses with Kyle, and she’s hoping for extra one-on-one Heath time.

  “He’s going to be there,” I tell her, “but just a warning—there’s a girl he kind of liked. He met her at the dog park or something. I don’t think anything came of it, but I thought you should know, just in case. I don’t know if he’s bringing someone.”

  “Why don’t I have a dog?” she whines.

  I laugh and then steal the remote so we can watch something that doesn’t make me feel guilty about all the food I plan to eat tomorrow.

  “Not that!” Savannah exclaims when I stop on My Best Friend’s Wedding.

  “Why?”

  “Have you ever seen it?” she asks.

  “No.”

  She shoots me a look. “Trust me, my best friend who’s in love with her other b
est friend, you will not like the ending.”

  I groan and lay my head against the couch. “Name one movie where the friends actually end up together.”

  “Hmmm,” she says thinking, and then her face brightens. “Emma.”

  “Emma? Isn’t that a Jane Austen thing?”

  Just like any good Theater Arts diploma holder, Savannah is a fan of musicals, period pieces, and anything with sequins.

  She steals the remote back and looks at me with something akin to horror. “You’ve never seen it? Oh, my dear, we have a mini-series to watch. Tell your mom we’re going to be late.”

  * * *

  Savannah and I ended up watching one episode of Emma before we had to leave for my parents’ house, and then we binged the rest when we got home. We went to bed after four in the morning.

  Now I’m exhausted, not only because we stayed up so late, but because I dreamed of Kyle in the role of Mr. Knightley—costume and all, declaring that if he “loved me less, he might be able to talk about it more.”

  Yes, because that’s the problem. Kyle loves me so darn much, he just can’t bear to talk about it.

  Anyway, I’m a bit agitated this morning, and for more than one reason. Kyle is supposed to pick me up in five minutes, and I have no clue what I’m going to bring as a hostess gift for his mother. Savannah already left, ever the eager beaver, offering to help my mother early. It’s a ruse, of course. She really wants to see Heath. I hope for her sake, he goes alone.

  There’s a knock at the door, and now I’m out of time.

  “I don’t know what to…” I begin without a greeting when I answer the door, but I forget my train of thought when I see Kyle. “Your clothes,” I say dumbly.

  He’s traded his usual denim and T-shirt for a pair of dress pants and a gray button-up. He’s not wearing a tie, but believe me, he doesn’t need it.

  Kyle glances down and then looks up at me. “What’s wrong with them?”

  “Nothing,” I stammer. “You just look nice.”

  He quirks a brow, and as if he must justify his clothing, he points out, “You look nice too.”