He’s unrelenting in his pursuit of me.
I take a moment to catalogue my reaction—the rapid beat of my heart, the warmth in my skin, the smile on my face. “I say yes.”
He exhales, like he’s been waiting a while for this. “Good. We should finish this date with another letter. To mark the occasion.”
“Which occasion?” I tease. “A month in business? Or you asking me on our first date?”
He leans closer, his eyes holding mine, a small smile shifting his lips. “Both, Mabel. Both.”
39
I’LL TAKE A DARTBOARD, PLEASE
CORBIN
“There are only two left,” she says, taking out the next letter as we settle at a table in the bakery, the streetlamps flickering beyond the garage-door windows. “I’m dying to know how they worked it all out.”
So am I. Not gonna lie. I keep hoping there’s a final piece of advice from a couple that worked together decades ago about how to makethiswork. I might know what I want, but I could also use a road map.
“We’ve been good though. We didn’t gobble them all up at once,” I say.
Mabel fidgets with the corner of the letter. “I wanted to. I was tempted to read one without you,” she admits, a little guilt in her averted eyes.
I lift a brow. I can picture her about to dip her hand in the cookie jar, but resisting. “Over Christmas?”
“No. Before—the night I wanted you to come over.”
For some reason, this admission excites me. Maybe it’s because she wanted me so badly that night—and almost caved by reading a letter solo. “And you waited,” I say.
“I’m used to edging,” she says, her eyes flicking with mischief.
“You’re very patient,” I say, praising her.
“I never was before,” she says as she glances toward the display case. Tomorrow it’ll be filled with brownies, bars, and cookies. Then this shop will be teeming with customers. “Weird for a baker.”
“You’re full of contradictions,” I say.And I love all of them.
“I am. But maybe that’s why I’ve always liked baking. There’s a recipe to follow, and I needed that when my life was a mess.”
“You’re not a mess, Mabel. Not even close,” I reassure.
She draws a deep breath and nods, perhaps finally believing that. She opens the letter. “Oh, it’s a short one.” She unfolds it and passes it to me. “It’s from Russ.”
I smooth out the paper, clear my throat and read.
Dear Harriet,
I shouldn’t do this. I truly shouldn’t. But I can’t hold back anymore.
I can’t stand the nights without you. I think about you all the time. I want to be with you all the time. I know it’s against the rules, but sometimes you have to break them. Will you go out with me?
I’m yours,
Russ
I set it down as Mabel gives me anI caught youlook. “Admit it. You read it in advance. Before you asked me out.”
A laugh bursts from me. “Nope.”
