He’s not wearing a button-down shirt. He’s not wearing a shirt at all. Just the black-and-white tie I bought him for Christmas, with illustrations of foxes on it.
I’m staring at the silk resting against his bare chest, his strong pecs, the ladder of his abs, mesmerized by the hardness of his muscles and the softness of the fabric. It takes me a beat to realize the phone is ringing. I blink off the fog and answer it. “Hey.”
“This tie is perfect,” he says, and I can hear the appreciation in his voice over the color choice. It’s a tie just for his eyes.
“It looks perfect on you.”
“That’s because you’re hot for me,” he says.
“You can’t ever resist saying that.”
“True.”
“And I am,” I say, stating the obvious.
“Good. Let’s keep it that way,” he says.
I snuggle deeper into bed as I take a chance with my answer. “I will.”
It feels like the start of something.
My mom takes a bite of millionaire’s shortbread and actually moans. “Mabel, this is delicious. But then again, it always has been.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I say, smoothing out my napkin, listening to the faint clatter of plates being cleared in the kitchen later that day. The tree lights glow from the living room, little bursts of red and gold spilling into the dining room.
I made it through the meal with minimal grilling. Okay, fine—some grilling.How’s it going?Well.Do you have health insurance?Yes, I pay for it myself and have for years.What about a retirement fund?I’ll set one up eventually.Can this really work?I hope so.
Theo takes a big bite of shortbread—caramel gooey, chocolate silky—and shakes his head in appreciation. “Mom, are you tasting this? Of course her bakery can work.”
Dad exhales, long and doubtful. “Just because you can bake doesn’t mean you can run a business.”
The words land like a slap.
Theo jumps in, defending me the way he always has. “Dad, it actually does.”
But this time I don’t back down. Since…screw it. “Corbin and I have great recipes. And honestly, Mom, Dad—I’m a great baker. You’re just going to have to accept that this is my career.”
Holy shit. Where did that come from? Theo grins, more pleased than I’ve ever seen him, pride shining in his eyes.
And, apparently, I have more to say. “But I’m more than just a great baker. I’ve been running a pop-up bakery for years, and it’s done well enough to support me. I’ve learned a ton, including how to market, and I put all that expertise into Afternoon Delight. And you know what’s been an utter delight? Watching the numbers grow. We’re already running within our budget, and we’ll be turning a profit soon,” I say. Sure, the fact that we don’t pay rent helps, but Corbin invested a lot in the business, and I can see profitability not far off in the new year.
The table goes quiet.
Mom takes another slow bite, sets the rest of the bar down, and nods. “You are an excellent baker, dear. And I’m glad to hear the business is growing.” High praise from her. She turns to my father, her voice firmer now. “She is. These bars are incredible and Cozy Valley is figuring it out.”
Dad doesn’t argue. Not this time.
Mom clicks her tongue and furrows her brow like she’s thinking. She turns to me. “Sweetheart, would you like to bake some cakes for my faculty luncheon next month? There will be about forty of us, so we’ll need a few.”
Would I? My throat tightens. “I would love to.”
I don’t go home to the city that evening. Since the day after Christmas is a busy shopping day, the bakery will be open tomorrow, so I head to Afternoon Delight, which is weirdly becoming my home. But before I bake, I head upstairs to change out of mylook nice for my parentsclothes.
When I turn the corner at the top of the stairs, I stop in my tracks. “Are you kidding me?” I whisper to no one but myself.
I can’t quite believe what I’m looking at.
A brand-new king-size bed with a huge silver bow wrapped around it. Like the kind you’d find around a shiny car in the driveway.
