After breakfast, we had a bit of a lazy moment on the sofa, finishing the episode ofMurder, She Wrote, and then asking questions about what either one of us would do if there was a crime in town. Personally, I told him I’d be front and center of the operation, and he told me that was exactly how he pictured me, standing at the sidelines as the policer officers taped off an area. But he said I was so cute that I’d probably be able to sneak through it. And he wasn’t lying, I would, plus I was friends with Oliver, and I knew I could get a secret or two out of him.
I wanted to tell everyone about Henry, my Daddy Henry. I told Oliver, because like he could tell me secrets, I was spilling mine to him. We had a group chat that was mostly for unboxing blind boxes of teddies, but it hadn’t been active in a while.
I also didn’t want to jinx this early stage thing I had. I knew at any moment this could end. It was so new, we weren’t labeling it, and we definitely weren’t committing our lives to each other. Slow and steady, although the little in me was ready for a ring—even just a ring pop and a lifetime commitment, but that was the little side. That part of me was always thinking about a fairy-tale ending.
We spent the rest of the early morning together, unboxing some more of his things as I was desperate to get some order in his place. So we did that together before heading down to the kitchen for lunch where there was leftover soup, which we finished off. It felt like a snapshot into our life together, although it probably didn’t account for the busy days I knew were coming.The days when the bakery would be open and he’d be swamped with customers and orders.
“Are you hiring?” I asked as we cleaned lunch away.
“I think you’ve got a lot on already,” he said.
“No, not me. I meant, in general. You’re going to be busy. You should hire someone.”
He nodded. “It’s on the cards. I’m going to see how it goes before I do that. Bake in the morning, open, sell, and make sure people know there won’t be a whole lot served, but I will be taking on custom work too.”
I didn’t have the first clue about running a business, so I just nodded. “And obviously, if you need a hand when I’m not working, I hope I’ll be around.”
“I would never even ask that of you,” he said. “You know, working together might put a bit too much pressure on things. And a good Daddy doesn’t want to see his little one stressed. In fact, if you are ever feeling stressed, let me know and I’ll make it all go away.”
That seemed unlikely, since he couldn’t just command work stop giving me tasks, but the sentiment made me feel fuzzy. “How?” I was too intrigued not to ask.
“Well, if you really want to know, I can tell you.”
“Yes, I wanna know.”
He turned to me, his eyes narrowing slightly. “First, I’d warm up some coconut oil, and then I’d go ahead and have you lie down while I painted pictures on your back, making sure to turn it into a massage.”
My body shivered with excitement at the idea that his hands would be all over me. “Oh no, I think I’m stressed now.”
“Top off, go upstairs, lie down, and I’ll be right up.”
“I’m only kidding. I should probably change, though, if I’m going into the community center.”
Daddy tilted his head. “Yeah, not sure how they’d react to the crop top withtwinkwritten on it.”
I snorted hard. “The last time I wore this out, I had one of the older women stop and ask me what a twink was,” I told him. “She thought it was some type of Christmas light. And maybe she was right, because I definitely do twinkle. Right?”
“Oh, absolutely you do.” His hand at my waist, he pulled me in close to his chest and gave me a kiss. “Best clean your mouth as well. There’s just something about your lips that soup loves to stain.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
“Good boy. And maybe after you’ve done your work, you can show me this fabric shop and we can get a banner made,” he said. “You know anything about flyers?”
I pretended to flick hair I didn’t have back over my shoulder. “I’ve been helping prepare this town for events, of course I know about flyers. And I’m also good at Photoshop. Or if you want cuter ones, I’ve got like a hundred crayons I could make posters with.”
“That’s sweet,” he said. “But I’ve already got some made up on a thumb drive. I’ll take you up on the hand-drawn poster, though. Something to stick in the window. One of a kind for Daddy.”
And just like that, he was taking care of my little side better than I imagined anyone ever would. Now, I had one poster to make, and too many ideas swimming around about it. There was no rush.
10. HENRY
It was almost time for the bakery to open. I was filled with a sudden burst of anxiety, which often happened when I wasn’t sure how people were going to react to a marketing campaign. This one wasn’t on a scale I’d played with before; it was small, intimate. There was a lot more riding on it than just some numbers on a spreadsheet.
Leo had been there for me, and I’d been there for him. It was nice to have someone who mellowed my anxieties with his playfulness, and I knew the stress would vanish as soon as the doors opened and the first customer came in. Leo had been adamant about being first, and he already was, but he wanted to actually walk through the door before anyone else once I flipped that sign from closed to open. And right beneath it, there was the poster he’d made in crayon, the date written in bubble letters withGrand Openingand a whole lot of different cakes, pies, and coffee cups decorating it.
The morning of the big day arrived, and Leo had been staying over more, and I really wanted him here with me—in my bed, in my kitchen, even sitting around in the bakery, testing the chairs out as he put it.
I hadn’t slept much. I’d worked through most of the night to put out a solid selection of baked goods, all of them positioned and slightly crammed askew inside the glass counter that wrapped around the entire curve. I had freshly brewed coffee scenting the air and filling me with the buzz my body didn’t need.
