Eliza

I think the world favours Leon. There's just something about his smartassery and unavoidable charm that everyone seems to adore. The fact that he is best buds with Kit is just freaking perfect. Now that the news about them attending university together has settled, the shock has worn off and I'm pissed. How is it possible that Leon can infiltrate every corner of my goddamned life?

I release a hefty breath as I slice fingerling potatoes. Leon, James, Kit, and Scott are in the other room and are discussing some of the best hiking trails in Whistler while enjoying cold beers and salted peanuts. Last night, after James and I got back from the grocery store, I saw Tenille and Serena for a couple of brief seconds. We exchanged some words about the soaps that were made. Since then, I haven't seen them; I spent all day packaging up the bars of soap.

Laughter erupts from the living room and I have to grit my teeth as I chop through another potato with a little too much force. I have nothing against James and his friends hanging out, but I was looking forward to a nice quiet dinner with my friends. Not a testosterone-filled night of drinking and acting like immature teenagers. It seems as though the connection between Leon and Kit has amped things up a little.

When I'm finished slicing the fingerling potatoes, I scrape them off of the cutting board and into a cast-iron skittle with lots of butter, salt, pepper, fresh thyme, and garlic. I then stick that in the oven to let it bake. The bone-in chicken breasts are already cooking and the salad is ready, waiting in the fridge.

Although I don't like being the only on working in the kitchen, it does give me a peace of mind. Being away from Leon's prying eyes is something I'm enjoying at the moment. After his mind games down by the creek, the last thing I want to do is think about him. But it's been hard. I'm curious to know why he's here and what exactly he wants – I still can't seem to figure it out. One thing I'm sure of, though, is that he wants to talk to me. Every time he looks at me, I can see years of unsaid words in his alluring eyes. I just don't know if I'm ready to hear any of it.

Leon always has reasons for doing what he does. Although he lied to me and never picked up his phone for two months when I kept trying to call him, there's a part of me that believes there's a valid reason behind it all. What really confuses me, though, is why I never heard from him for two whole years. He could have called me and at least told me he was okay. He could have explained what the hell happened. But he never said a word to me. Until now.

When I've finished cleaning the dishes, I decide I'm going to bake some cookies. I've never been a fan of sweets – unless we're talking about fudge and kettle corn – but baking will give me a reason to avoid any interactions with Leon and the rest of them. I'm worried that if I go in there, people will start asking questions about the past we share. And I have no idea how I would respond to that.

Humming a tune to myself, I begin to flip through Tenille's mom's recipe book. My mom was never much of a baker, which is probably why I'm not a big fan of it, but Tenille's mom loves it. Over the years, I've learned that she has some flawless recipes that even an amateur like me couldn't screw up.

Eventually, I find the recipe I'm looking for: oatmeal chocolate chip cookies with Skor bits. When I was a kid, these were my kryptonite. Present me with any other sweets and I would push it away without a second thought. Give me these cookies? I'd devour the whole plate with a tall glass of cold milk. Every once in a while, I crave these cookies. They never turn out as perfect as Mrs. West's did when I make them, but they're still delicious.

I bustle around the kitchen for a few minutes, gathering up everything I need to accommodate this recipe. Baking is a very straight-forward process. I like that I don't have to wing it; it's organized and I have a recipe with valid instructions to follow. Although I do mess up on the amount of vanilla that the recipe calls for, I find it to be somewhat relaxing.

"Need any help?"

I jump, dropping the measuring cup of flour into the glass bowl. A large cloud of flour rises into the air and settles over everything like dust, including the beds of my fingernails. I turn around, cursing under my breath, ready to throw a shady comment at whoever snuck up on me. But when I come face-to-face with his unique eyes, I can't find my voice.

Goddamn him.

I look him over. Unlike the other three, I can tell he hasn't had a single drop of alcohol. How? Because he doesn't smell like his own personal distillery like James did when he came wandering in here asking when dinner was going to be ready. Also, right at this very moment, he's dumping his bottle of beer down the sink.

"Why are you doing that?" I ask.

When the bottle is empty, he sets it down on the counter and turns to face me. He crosses his arms over his chest. "I guess I'm just not a big fan of alcohol."

I cock an eyebrow. As if I'm going to believe that one. There were many times, when we were teenagers, that Leon and I snuck drinks out of his parents' liquor cabinet. Now that I look back, it was pretty ridiculous of us to do. But we were young and stupid. Who can blame us?

"Fine," he sighs, raking a hand through his hair. "I'm a whisky drinker. Beer tastes like piss to me."

Slowly, I nod. That sounds more like him. Deciding that this conversation is over, I turn back to my cookies and begin cleaning up the flour mess. When that's done, I begin measuring out the flour again. I've dumped two cups in when I feel Leon sidle up beside me.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"Baking."

"Baking?" he snorts. "Since when do you like baking? You rarely touch sweets."

I bite my lip. After ghosting me for two years, he actually has the audacity to say something like that? To just infer that I'm the same girl I was the last time we spoke? I want to snap at him. But because I'm tired from staying up late last night and then having to pack up the bars of soap, I sigh. "Remember the cookies Mrs. West used to make?"

His eyes light up as he snaps his fingers. "The ones with the Skor bits, right?"

"Yeah," I smile. I pick up the bowl with the dry ingredients and slowly begin to mix it into the bowl with the wet ingredients. I know Mrs. West always used to use a spatula for this part, but I think all of them ended up in the dishwasher or something because I couldn't find one. Instead, I'm using a wooden spoon. "I've been craving one."

"Well," Leon says. He grabs a handful of milk-chocolate chips from the Costco-sized bag and tosses a few in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "That's a brave attempt on your part, but we both know they're not going to compare to the cookies Mrs. West makes."

He tosses the rest of the chocolate chips into his mouth and begins to reach for another handful. Before he can take more, I swat his hand away with the wooden spoon, leaving a smear of dough on the back of his hand. "Stop eating the chocolate chips, Leon!"

I watch, my heart thumping wildly, as his smile turns into a Cheshire Cat-like grin while he rubs his hand. He's about to say something when another voice interrupts us.

"Well, well. It's good to see you two in the same kitchen again, but where is my daughter? It's not the same without the three of you meddling around in the kitchen."

My head snaps up, as does Leon's. In front of us is Sarah West – Tenille's mom. Although she's aged since the last time Leon and I were in the kitchen, licking the bowl clean and fighting over who got the spatula, she still has that sparkle in her eyes. Her dark-brown hair is speckled with flecks of silver and there are wrinkles at the corners of her brown eyes. When comparing her and Tenille, Tenille has a much more delicate bone structure to her face and her father's eyes, but aside from that, Sarah looks like an older version of her daughter. And, just seconds behind her is Corian West, Tenille's dad.

This is the first time I've seen Mr. and Mrs. West all summer; they were visiting Tenille's older sister in Penticton. We weren't expecting them to be back so soon, but I'm not upset about that at all. After my parents divorced, both of them were kind enough to have me over for an above-average number of sleepovers. They, along with Leon's parents, were the parents that my own parents couldn't be. I'm so happy to see them.

"Sarah! Corian!" I exclaim. I rush over to give each of them a big hug. It feels weird to call them by their first names, and I'm still getting used to it, but that's what they told me to call them by last time I saw them. "Thank you so much for letting us have the wedding here."

"Oh, Eliza," Sarah laughs. "You don't have to thank us."

As we exchange one more hug, I can feel Leon's presence behind me. I can also feel years of memories weighing heavily on my shoulders. I can't count how many times we baked with Sarah or how many times we went horseback riding with Corian. Or how many times Leon, Tenille, and I slept out in the pasture with nothing but the stars and our sleeping bags. Having Leon around makes things difficult; all these memories keep coming up and punching me in the stomach, reminding me of what we had before we drifted apart.

When I step aside and return to the cookie dough, Mrs. West – Sarah takes a moment to stare at Leon. I don't know how many years it's been since they last saw each other, but something tells me that Sarah remembers Leon as a scrawny teenage boy with a bad case of acne and shaggy blonde hair. He's also gotten tall – so freaking tall.

"My God," Sarah says, pressing a hand to her chest. "When did you grow up?"

Leon shrugs as he walks over to Sarah, pulling her into a hug. "It happened in the blink of an eye, Mrs. West. No more gaunt teenage boy here."

"Indeed," she replies as she hugs Leon back. "And it's Sarah – we're all adults here."

Leon pulls out of the hug and salutes her before shaking hands with Corian.

I try not to feel disgusted by how tall he is. I mean, come on. How did he get so tall? He makes Sarah look extremely short and he makes me feel extremely short.

While the three of them play catch-up, I begin to add the Skor bits to the cookie dough. I also grease the cookie sheet I put out earlier. After the Skor bits are all mixed in, I reach for the chocolate chips. However, before I can grab the bag, I feel something cold press into the palm of my hand. I glance up in shock when I realize it's a measuring cup already full of the correct amount of chocolate chips. And, at the end of the small handle, I see Leon. All I do is stare at him. The look in his eyes is unreadable. Just like before, I'm back to calculating his game and trying to figure out what he's up to.

"For old time's sake," he winks.

Colour flushes to my cheeks. It's strange to be this close to him, to hear his voice again after missing him for so long. I don't know why he's come back. I don't know why he's picked this specific time to show up. For months, I wished I could see him and talk to him. I wanted to hold him close and never let him go. But then he ruined everything. He was selfish enough to lie to me and then ghost me. To break my heart.

I thought he loved me enough.

I want to tell him that he's not welcome here, that he needs to leave. Even if everyone else enjoys his presence, he's making things complicated and uncomfortable for me. I take the chocolate chips from him and dump them into the dough. As I'm stirring them in, I realize something. Why am I letting Leon get away with this? This is my wedding. If I don't want him here, then he should leave.

Setting the wooden spoon down, I turn to Leon. He's always been able to say what's on his mind, so it's time to give him a taste of his own medicine.

"The cookie dough is looking amazing, you two! Keep up the good work. Oh – and dinner smells amazing!"

I glance over my shoulder. Corian has left the kitchen, probably to join James and the rest of the guys in the living room, but Sarah is still here. She's grabbing a wine glass from the cupboard, looking content as content can be. And it's because of the look on her face that I realize I can't say anything to Leon right now. I can't bear to hurt Sarah's feelings by telling Leon off. She would be devastated to know that our relationship fell apart the way it did.

So, instead of bitching at Leon, I ask him to start rolling the dough into balls. "For old time's sake, right?"

The corner of his mouth pinches to one side as he rolls up his sleeves.