"You were telling me you want to find out more about me," I say.
"And you were looking terrified," she adds.
"I am terrified," I admit. "But that doesn’t mean I don't want the same thing."
Her smile is slow and warm and does something dangerous to my resolve.
"Then let us take it slow," she says. "No pressure. Just see what happens."
"I can do slow," I say.
"Good."
She picks up her camera again, and we fall back into the rhythm of working together. But something has definitely shifted between us. The air feels lighter, much more open. And for the first time in three years, the idea of letting someone in doesn't feel like a threat.
It feels like a possibility.
By midday, I’ve finished the base structure of the festival cake, and Piper has captured enough footage to make a documentary. We are both covered in a fine layer of powdered sugar, and I'm pretty sure there is frosting in her hair.
"You have a little something," I say, gesturing vaguely at her head.
She reaches up and touches the wrong spot. "Did I get it?"
"Not even close."
"Where is it?"
I step closer without thinking, reaching up to gently brush the frosting from the strand of hair near her temple. My fingers linger a second longer than necessary, and when I pull back, she is looking at me with an expression that makes my breath catch.
"Thank you," she says softly.
"You are welcome."
We stand there for a beat too long, close enough that I can see the green color of her eyes, close enough that I could lean down and kiss her if I were brave enough.
But I'm not. Not yet.
So instead, I step back and clear my throat. "Lunch?"
"Lunch," she agrees, though her voice sounds a little breathless.
We walk to the Corner Diner again, falling into an easy rhythm. The town is busier now, and people are preparing for the festival that is only days away. Everywhere I look, there are banners and flyers, and the energy of something building.
When we walk into the diner, Rosie takes one look at us and grins like she has won the lottery.
"Well, well," she says. "Two days in a row. This is getting interesting."
"We are just getting lunch, Rosie," I say.
"Sure you are, honey. Sure you are."
Piper is trying very hard not to laugh.
We slide into the same booth as yesterday, and Jenna appears almost immediately.
"The usual?" she asks.
"Please," I say.
