The mayor glances between us, reads the situation faster than he probably should for a man in a town council polo, and holds the spare mic out like he is offering me a lifeline.
I take it before I can change my mind.
For a moment I face the crowd. People look curious, amused, not hostile. Good enough. Then I turn back to Charlotte.
Her eyes search mine, and I know exactly what she is asking without her saying a word.
Are you sure?
No.
I am nowhere near sure.
But I am done hiding behind that.
“Hi,” I say into the mic, and my voice comes out lower than usual. “I’m Liam. I run Spice Spice Baby Bakery down the road.”
A few people cheer, and someone whistles. Great, I have a fan club.
I look at Charlotte again. “I know this is supposed to be about the festival. And it should be. Because it is great, and you did that.”
Her cheeks go a little pink, but she rolls her eyes at me like she thinks I am exaggerating, which I’m not.
I look out at the crowd again. “But this week has also been about something else for me.”
My hand tightens on the microphone. I’ve spoken to customers, suppliers, and health inspectors. I’ve never spoken to an entire town about my feelings.
“Six years ago,” I say, the words coming slower now, “it became very clear that my life was not going to look like I planned. I had a daughter. I had a bakery. I did not have a partner who wanted to be in the middle of all that every day. So I made the decision to focus on what I could control. Raise my kid. Grow my business. Keep my head down and my heart out of anything that looked like risk.”
I feel Charlotte watching me. I feel a lot of people watching me. Yet, I keep going because if I stop, I will never start again.
“And it worked,” I say. “Mostly. We were okay. We were... steady. But I also kept my life very small, on purpose. I did not want anyone to get close enough to leave again.”
I shift my focus back to her.
“Then this woman walked into my bakery,” I say, and my voice softens without my permission. “She had a clipboard, a schedule, and a smile that made my kid instantly decide she was part of the family.”
The crowd laughs lightly. I hear Maisie somewhere up front say, “That’s me,” because of course she does.
“She was here to organize the festival,” I continue, “and I was supposed to see her as someone temporary. Just passing through. But she kept showing up: in my bakery, at my counter, in my kitchen, in my daughter’s drawings, and in my head.”
Charlotte’s mouth curves, but her eyes are bright, focused completely on me now.
“I haven’t dated in a long time,” I admit, speaking louder so everyone hears it. “Not because I was above it, but because I was scared of it. I did not want to risk bringing someone into my daughter’s life who might leave.” I take a breath. “But at some point this week I realized I was already in it. I already let her in. And no amount of pretending I hadn’t was going to undo it.”
The mayor looks delighted. A few people in the front row clasp their hands to their chests. I ignore all of them.
“This woman is stubborn, kind, annoying in a way that makes me want to argue with her all day, and she cares about people in a way I have not let myself do for a long time. She loves this town, even though she’s not from here. She loves this ridiculous festival. She listened to my kid talk about cookie feelings and did not pretend to understand them, but she cared anyway. She walked into our world like she belonged, and I have been trying to catch up ever since.”
My voice goes quieter at the end, but the microphone carries it.
I look straight at her.
“Charlotte,” I say, “you changed a week that should have been nothing but stress and turned it into something I am not ready to lose when this festival ends.”
Her lips part, I see it hit her, the way my words land. My pulse picks up and my hand tightens on the mic again.
“You don’t have to give me an answer right now,” I say quickly. “I know you have a life outside of this town. I know you didn’t come here expecting some single dad with flour on his shirt and a kid attached to his hip to complicate everything. But I also know I don’t want to pretend this is temporary if it doesn’t have to be.”
