“Good,” I say. “Because so am I.”
Down below, I hear Maisie yell, “Does this mean we can all have cupcakes now?” which makes half the town laugh again.
Charlotte pulls back enough to glance out at the crowd, then looks at me with a grin.
“I think your daughter knows how to close a scene,” she says.
“She gets that from you.”
“She’s known me for a week.”
“That’s all it took,” I say.
She laughs, and the sound wraps around everything inside me that had stayed quiet for too long.
The mayor takes a step forward, clearly thrilled with how this unplanned entertainment has turned out. “Well,” he says into the mic, “I think that’s our cue to officially declare this year’s Heart-to-Heart Festival a success.”
People cheer again, and the music starts back up. The moment, unbelievably, becomes part of the event instead of a disruption.
We step off the stage together. As soon as our feet touch the ground, Maisie runs at us, throwing her arms around both of our legs at once.
“I knew it,” she sings. “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it.”
I lift her up, balancing her on my hip, and Charlotte pats her cheek lightly.
“You did good,” Charlotte tells her.
“I know,” Maisie says. “Can we have cake now?”
I look at Charlotte. “What do you think?”
She smiles at me, soft and sure. “I think we have a whole bakery’s worth.”
For the first time in a long time, I look at the two of them and do not feel that old panic creep in. I feel something else instead.
Hope.
Real, solid, everyday hope.
And for once, I decide not to question it.
Chapter 10
Charlotte
Two weeks after the festival,Valentine feels different, it’s quieter and more settled. The booths are gone, the banners are packed away, and the grass has mostly recovered from being trampled by thousands of enthusiastic feet.
But the people? They haven’t stopped smiling at me since the stage kiss.
Everywhere I go, someone gives me a knowing look. And today, the bakery is buzzing again, not with festival chaos, but with the first ever Sweetheart Saturday couples baking class. Something Liam and I came up with together over breakfast in his kitchen.
Inside Spice Spice Baby, couples fill every table. Newlyweds, older couples, and a few brave daters who definitely lied when they checked the box that saidskill level: comfortable in the kitchen.
The air smells like sugar and cinnamon.
Liam stands behind the counter with his sleeves rolled up, explaining cookie dough, he talks with his hands, he mutters when he’s thinking, and he glances at me every few minutes like he’s checking that I’m still here.
Maisie sits at her tiny table in the corner, her crayons spread out in a colorful explosion. She is wearing her new Spice Spice Baby Junior apron.
