Page 114 of Meet Cute Reboot

Gabe reaches for me, his fingers wet with slobber.

“Does that sound like a workable plan?”

She sets her jaw, nods.

I grab Gabe from Macy’s lap and give him a squeeze. Tears rim my eyes. “You be good.” I hug him again and then hand him back to his mom. “I’ll transfer the money. You can show yourself out.”

I close my banking app. Fifteen thousand dollars to get Macy the heck out of my life. Is it too late, though? That’s the question that’s eating me.

My eyes keep flitting over to my phone. Is Cassie at Nana’s now? Will she answer her phone if I call her, or will she ghost me? Is she as upset as I am?

I stand and shove the phone into my back pocket. Before transferring the money, I took a shower and got dressed. I decided maybe I’ll go somewhere today. To Nana’s? Or maybe Cassie and I will go for coffee and talk things out.

I can’t surprise her at Nana’s. That would be too messy. She probably hasn’t told them about me. Now isn’t the time. I’ll invite her to coffee, but first I need a bagel. Because I’m hungry. Yeah. That’s why I feel like I want to double over. Couldn’t have anything to do with Cassie walking away from me saying it’s over. Forever.

The bagels are in the fridge along with the butter. I jerk the door harder than necessary causing the condiments to clink and rattle against each other. My stomach can’t handle anything sweet, sour, or spicy. Plain butter on a plain bagel it is.

While I’m waiting for the bagel to toast, I get up the nerve to text Cassie.

I’m sorry about this morning. That was a mix up. Macy and I aren’t together. Can we talk about this over coffee?

The bagel pops up. I slather butter onto each side, slap them together, and then take a bite. I watch my phone. Wait for a response. Nothing.

I toss my phone onto the counter, lean against the island. As I’m chewing, movement catches my eye. I turn my head in time to watch the cabinet door open on its own. A fire wells in my belly and its flames shoot through my arms.

I set my jaw and spin toward the back door. Moments later, I’m back from the shed with a sledgehammer. Never mind the contents of the cabinet. I rear back with the hammer and give the old 1980s oak a vicious pounding, one strike after another. Splinters fly in all directions, ceramic shatters, hinges crack as they pull from their moorings. I pound until the entire cabinet falls from the wall and crashes to the floor, and then I pound on it some more.

“Son. Stop,” I hear behind me.

I keep smashing, this time at the composite countertop. It cracks under the force of my hammer. I spare no muscle as I plot the destruction of my entire kitchen.

“Son!”

I spin around. “What!”

My mom stands in the doorway with a stricken look on her face. “That won’t bring her back.”

“I don’t want Macy back. I want her out of my...” I explode into another string of expletives.

“I mean Cassie. Smashing up your kitchen won’t bring her back.”

“I’m not trying to bring either of them back. I’m trying to getBetsythe heck out of my life!”

Mom looks confused. “Who’s Betsy?”

“The ghost that’s haunting my cabinet!”

“Oh. No. Son, are you on something?”

“I’m cleansing my kitchen! Do you have any sage?” I start smashing the counters some more.

“O...k...,” I hear mom say between loud clunks and thuds. She walks around the island shielding her eyes. “I think she loves you.”

Clunk! Bam!

I tighten the grip on the handle ready to go for another swing.

“I said, I think she loves you!” Mom yells.