“She’s also pretty. Wait until you see her. It’s wild. Who’d have thought a model would open a bakery? Though I don’t think she was ever a model. But she should have been if she wasn’t. She did this cool braid thing with her hair yesterday. I want to fix my hair like that. Last night, I tried to do it with one of those online tutorials. Somehow, I ended up tying it in a knot that took me four hours to brush out. Curly hair makes everything harder.”
She got those curls from me. Ivy’s hair was smooth as silk… “Why don’t we figure it out together tonight?”
Hope grins up at me. Then her grin wobbles.
If I could only take every worry away from her. “Today is going to be perfect. You’re going to have fun and learn a lot.”
“I am. It’s going to be great.”
We step off the concrete sidewalk onto the historic cobblestone road of Willow Street. Even this early in the morning, it’s a bustling community. Teenage boys seem to be everywhere. Like hawks roaming around, looking for easy prey to pick off.
They aren’t the only ones around. Maddox’s security is everywhere. They don’t seem to have a problem walking around looking threatening. Then again, neither does my family.Though we don’t just look threatening…which makes things easier in the long run.
Why the visible presence?
Or is it just like this in the morning to help out with all the nutty teenage boys?
Boys who just noticed my daughter.
The two by the street corner keep nudging each other and nodding at her. I want to nudge them with my fists.
Why didn’t I just buy her a place? Somewhere she could have sat in an office all day, hidden from…boys.
Maybe if I just beat the mess out of one of them, it’ll act as a warning for all the rest.
Maddox wouldn’t mind if it were only one of them. I could even let him pick the most irritating one.
“We need to go around the corner to the back picnic table.”
“Picnic table?” Huh?
“That’s where I met Fiona yesterday. She didn’t tell me to do anything differently today. So let’s check back there first. Then you can go home.”
Home with those vultures circling…yeah, right. I brought enough work to last me all day. There’s a chunk of code that has been bothering me for weeks. “You know that’s not happening. Unless you want me to hire you a security team. Your choice.”
“That’s not a choice. That’s torture. And we both know that I’m perfectly safe here on Willow Street.”
Those vultures didn’t give me any kind of secure vibes. “Your location doesn’t change the choice.”
Hope folds her arms and glares at me.
She’s cute as a button when she’s angry.
What isn’t cute are all the scents emanating from the bakery. My stomach rumbles, demanding some of that cinnamon goodness inside. There will be plenty of time for that.
Right now, all you need to do is make it through meeting Fiona without making a fool of yourself. And see if all this ado is about nothing. Nonna could be wrong. When was the last time my grandmother was wrong?
There’s no way I found the love of my life in a few short minutes all those years ago.
I don’t know anything about this woman. Whatever I felt back then had to be hormones mixed with grief, nothing more, nothing less. Logical businessmen like me don’t do love at first sight.
We round the corner of the bakery, and the scents get richer and deeper, like they’re pumping them out of the building to attract customers. Which would be a great marketing tactic, but hardly a necessity when the street is covered in teenagers that probably eat their body weight in pastries each week.
Hope squeezes my hand as we reach the alleyway. Most places in Urbium, the alleyways are to be avoided, but this one is neither covered in trash nor drug dealers. The only things to be seen are a wall mural, some wrought-iron lamps, planters, and picnic tables. This décor makes it feel more like a movie set than a random city alleyway.
And then I see her.
She doesn’t need to turn around for me to know exactly who she is. Though her shape has changed throughout the years—definitely for the better—her chestnut hair hasn’t, nor has the curve of her neck. It’s still long with a freckle at the base where it meets her ear. That’s about the only inch of skin visible. Women would call the white masterpiece that’s hugging her body a dress, but that doesn’t seem descriptive enough.
