"You'll be perfect."
"I'll track flour through the halls."
"The halls need flour."
"I'll argue with aristocrats."
"They need arguing with."
"I'll insist on keeping the bakery."
"I'll help you run it."
"You will?"
"Every morning if you'll let me."
"Even though you're terrible at baking?"
"Especially because I'm terrible. I need the practice."
"That could take years."
"Good. We have years."
"Do we?"
"All of them. Every year, every day, every moment you'll give me."
She kissed him then, sweet and deep and full of promise.
"Take me home," she said when they pulled apart.
"The bakery?"
"Wherever you are is home now."
"That's the most romantic thing you've said."
"Don't get used to it. I'm usually much more practical."
"I love your practicality."
"You love everything about me."
"True."
"That's dangerous. I have many flaws."
"Name one."
"I throw flour when angry."
"That's endearing."
"I talk to bread dough."
"That's charming."
