I carry a journal with me. A journal with a list.
Take a karate class. Go skydiving. Learn to play the ukulele. Say yes to everything for an entire day. The list goes on, line by line, of youthful dreams.
For too long that list has haunted me. But starting today, I'm going to cross one item off. Today, I'm opening my new restaurant in Bozeman, Montana. The Maysen Jar.
It should have marked the first day of a new life. A fresh start. But then Cole Goodman waltzed through the door and brought with him the past. A man who shattered my heart. A man I tried to forget.
Maybe it's a good thing he insists on sticking around. Because the only way I'll finish the list is with Cole's help. And then I can finally say goodbye.
Gone were the cement floors spotted with oil. In their place was a hickory herringbone wood floor. The dingy garage doors had been replaced. Now visitors would pull up to a row of floor-to-ceiling bla...