Maybe

Chapter One

It was just about late summer when I first heard about him. I'd just got back from a long trip to Maine with my husband Jonah and our daughter Grace. My girlfriends and I made plans to get together that Saturday night because we hadn't seen each other all summer. We were in Miranda's backyard seated on her patio, bathed in the warm glow of string lights we had the soothing hum of cicadas as the night's background track. The evening air was still warm, but there was a crispness in the breeze that hinted at the coming fall. I took a long sip of my red Sangria, feeling its sweetness dance on my tongue. As I leaned back in my wicker chair, I couldn't help but feel slightly tipsy. I was currently working on my third glass.

"Please share this recipe with me, Andy," I called out to Miranda, her fairy hair shining under the string lights as she poured a bottle Red Blend wine into a pitcher behind the stone bar.

Miranda Rivers was one of my closest friends. When Jonah and I moved into the neighborhood eight years ago, we were welcomed by a small group of our neighbors bearing a basket filled with delicious homemade treats. I later discovered that Miranda, head of the Welcome Wagon Association, had baked every single item in that basket—an impressive feat considering its size.

In return, I had baked her some extra decadent chocolate peanut butter brownies and brought it over to her house. Luckily, she'd been home and invited me inside with a dazzling smile. We devoured the brownies and washed them down with Russian cocktails as we bonded over our mutual love for baking and trashy reality TV shows. I soon learned that Miranda was the owner of Whisk & Sip, the most popular bakery and coffee shop in Oak Square.

Talking to her felt natural and easy, and I found myself confiding in her about all aspects of my life – even the intimate details of my marriage to Jonah. Sometimes, I may have revealed more than I probably should have. But she reciprocated by sharing things about herself as well. At just thirty-four years old, she had already been married twice. Her first marriage, she admitted, was a mistake - a young girl swept up by an older man with money and control issues. But from that toxic relationship came her greatest joy - her eight-year-old son Ryan. After her divorce, Mira

She was young and he was older with a lot of money and control issues. However, something good did come out of it – her nine-year-old son Ryan. Three years after his birth, Miranda divorced her first husband and soon fell in love with her second – who turned out to be the complete opposite of her first husband. After her divorce, Miranda fell in love with her second husband, who turned out to be the complete opposite of her first - handsome, young, and unfortunately, a lazy deadbeat who ended up stealing thousands from her before landing in jail. My husband and I only caught the tail end of that disastrous marriage. Since then, Miranda has had occasional flings but nothing serious - perhaps due to her sometimes-abrasive personality rather than her striking looks.

Standing tall at almost five-foot-ten, Miranda had curves that made other women envious and men drool. Her skin had a milky complexion, scattered with freckles like a dusting of cinnamon. And her face was truly exquisite, framed by luscious titian hair.

"Sure thing," Miranda replied with a smile, "I found the recipe on Pinterest. I swear, that app is my downfall – I can scroll through for hours and lose track of time." I chuckled in understanding and replied, "Well, at least you're using social media for something productive." It was sickening just how addicted we've become to our social media overlords. I've made it a personal goal recently to limit my social media usage and utilize it strictly for work.

"Speaking of productive, Allie, how was your trip with Jonah and Grace?" Leah, the third in our trio asked. I watched her make her way across the pewter gray flagstone flooring, loosed-limbed and ever graceful. Her years as a dancer evident in the fluidity of her movements. Leah was one of those women who seemingly aged backwards.