Manage My Heart (New Year New Me 2)

Brittany Powers seems to think I still want Jackson. It’s made every interaction we have unnecessarily complicated and tense. As far as I’m concerned, she’s welcome to him. As my mother likes to say, you’ll lose him the same way you got him if you date a man already invested in another relationship. Brittany will spend their entire relationship looking over her shoulders and second-guessing his late nights and trips out of town for work. That’s a worse fate than anything I could do to her. Her thin lips curve up into a predatory grin, and she sashays her way toward me, a harpy on a mission.

“Ms. Lawson. We got the news that a fire started here. We’re so relieved to see you’re okay, and the fine members of our fire department have taken care of everything. Can you tell us what happened, Firefighter Jones?”

The man behind me clears his throat. “It turns out it was a bit of a false alarm.”

I could kiss him.

“Oh?” Brittany arches her perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

Becoming acutely aware of my gray and white polka-dot joggers and old, faded college pullover, I pull my green plaid blanket closer and clear my throat.

“That’s right. Sorry to get you good folks out here at this time of night for no reason,” I say in a sickeningly sweet voice. Kill them with kindness.

“Well, we do follow the stories available in the town. How about a brief comment to reassure all these worried folks out here?” Brittany gestures toward the families crowding the porches, putting me on the spot.

Evil bitch.

“Of course.” I force a smile. The bright lights beam into my face, blinding me in the darkness as they’re set up. I have flashbacks to my time with Jackson. My palms sweat, and my heart rate accelerates. Chest tightening, I grip the blanket in my hand to remain grounded in the present.

“I’m here on New Year’s Eve with homeowner Matilda Lawson who’s ringing in 2021 in a rather unusual way. Can you tell us what happened?” She thrusts the microphone into my face. I clear my throat.

“Today, I learned that cookies are actually flammable.” I give a self-deprecating smile. They can’t laugh at me if I force them to laugh with me.

“Wow!” She shoots a stunned expression at the cameraman. “How did you manage that?”

“Somewhere in the process of cooking production, the broiler was turned on.” I widen my eyes comically. “You can imagine what would happen to cookies after the recommended fifteen to sixteen minutes in the oven.” I cringe. “If you can’t, I assure you it was nothing good.” The cameraman snickers, and Brittany’s eye twitches. Nice try. I know how to spin things. I learned at least that much from being married to a local celebrity.

The interview takes all of ten minutes, but I swear it equated to an eternity in hell.

“I guess you’ll need us to keep Clem longer, considering .

..” Brittany gestures toward the house.

“No. It’ll be fine once it’s aired out.” My jaw clenches, but I keep my tone steady and calm.

“Pity. We made cookies for the new year, you know?” Her immaturity keeps her from working with Jackson and me to create a calm, cohesive environment. It’s going to end up being a problem.

I smile and nod.

“She told us how you two were going to enter the bake sale.” She looks at the retreating fire truck. “Don’t worry, Matilda. I’ll be sure to help Clem, so she’s not embarrassed or disappointed.”

My daughter is not a prize to be won. I resent Brittany’s continuous attempts to turn her into one. She might be my daughter’s stepmother one day, but she’ll never take my place.

“I got it, actually,” I say.

“Oh, I’ll be there covering it anyway. It won’t be a problem when you change your mind.” She winks and moves to help her crew pack up.

Oh hell no. I’ll do whatever it takes to show up at the bake sale and redeem myself with a smile on my face and cookies that put everyone else to shame. I’ll just need help to do it.

Later, on the couch, as I’m looking at cookie baking tutorials, I land on a local baker’s channel.

“Welcome to baking with Anders Rivera.”

My lady parts tingle as I sit up straighter. The handsome, olive-skinned man with facial hair and soulful brown eyes wasn’t what I expected. I can’t look away as his deep voice gives clear, concise explanations. His cookies are beautiful, and his offer at the end of the video seals the deal in my mind. This is the man I need. As the clock turns to twelve, I make a vow: New year, new me. And this version of myself will bake a damn good cookie.