“I meant it when I said I remembered everything.”
“Yeah,” she whispered.
When the oven timer beeped, she pulled the rolls out and iced them with the glaze she’d perfected years ago. We ate them straight from the pan, getting our fingers sticky and sharing bites like we used to.
When the last roll was gone, she wiped her hands on a napkin and looked at me. “You earned yourself another date. Maybe dinner next week?”
“I’d love that.”
We packed up together, Tessa folding the blanket while I gathered the cooler. On the walk back to the car, she let her fingers thread through mine for just a few steps. Neither of us spoke, but we didn’t need to. The quiet was comfortable, and I had another date to plan.
17
TESSA
The morning rush at Hale & Honey was in full swing by nine o’clock. A line snaked from the counter to the door, the bell chiming every few seconds as customers pushed in for their Friday fix of baked goods. The furor following the drama Vanessa caused on social media still hadn’t died down a full month later.
We were so busy that my custom cake commissions were booked out a year in advance, and that was after I’d almost doubled my prices. The influx of cash had allowed me to hire an additional two employees, so now I had a team of ten working for me. Six in the kitchen and four out front.
I briefly considered closing an additional day each week, but Gage had talked me out of it. Even though it would’ve given me another chance to go out on dates with him each week, he’d argued that I needed to take full advantage of the extra foot traffic while I had it because the free publicity wouldn’t last forever.
Almost as though my thoughts conjured him up, Gage walked in. He flashed a smile at Jenny, who was at the register,ringing up orders with the quiet confidence she’d grown into over the past few weeks.
“Good morning, Gage.” She gestured for him to come around the line. “Tessa has your favorite waiting for you.”
His gaze met mine from across the room, and I felt the impact of his grin in my heart…and my ovaries. Dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt, he was sexy enough to draw the eye of every woman in the bakery. But his attention never strayed from me.
A few customers noticed. Whispers started near the pastry case. One teenage girl pulled out her phone, angled it toward him, then looked at me with wide eyes. “Is that the guy you didn't steal?”
I gave her a quick smile. “Yeah.”
“Seriously so cool,” she whispered, furiously tapping on her screen. “My friends are not gonna believe this.”
Gage caught the exchange but didn’t react. He just took the bag from Jenny and murmured, “Thanks.”
Then he headed over to a table Jimmy hadn’t had the chance to bus yet. He set the bag down, collected the trash, then walked over to the garbage can. With that done, he rounded the counter to grab the cleaning spray and a cloth before heading back to the table to wipe it down.
When he finished, he returned the cleaning supplies to the spot where I kept them. But he didn’t stop there. He grabbed the tray of coffee sleeves from under the counter and began refilling the dispenser without being asked.
Jenny leaned toward me. “It’s hard to believe he’s the same guy who yelled at me that day. He finds a way to help every time he comes in here to see you.”
I nodded, not knowing what to do with the sight of him here, quietly making my morning easier. He’d changed so much from the man I knew three years ago, in all the best ways.
The dates he’d come up with each Monday were more proof of that. He’d arranged for us to have after-hours access to the library branch where my mom used to take me for story time when I was little a week after the park date. We spread a blanket on the floor and had a picnic with my favorite finger foods, and then he gave me a signed copy of the newest cookbook by a chef I adored.
The following Monday, he somehow got my landlord to give me space on the roof of my building for an herb garden, where we planted plants like lemon balm and mint. And he raised the bar again last week when he found a copy of the cookbook passed down from my great-grandmother to my grandmother, and then to my mother. The one in my family couldn’t be used because it had fallen apart a decade ago, and he had his gift professionally rebound so that I could enjoy the recipes that meant so much to the women in my family.
This version of Gage was thoughtful and giving in ways that were meaningful. The more I saw this side of him, the harder it became to pretend I’d ever truly fallen out of love with him. Or that my feelings for him weren’t growing stronger.
A man in a suit stepped up to the counter and pulled me from my thoughts when he asked, “Mind if I get a quick selfie with the cake in the case? My girlfriend’s obsessed with your cakes.”
“Go for it.” I tilted my head toward the glass cake holder on the counter. “And maybe snag her one of the raspberry mojito cupcakes. They’re today’s limited edition special flavor.”
“Great idea.” He snapped the photo, thanked me, and bought two cupcakes.
The whispers in line grew, and more phones came out. Gage noticed that a couple were aimed his way. He straightened, his cheeks flushing slightly, and looked at me.
I walked over to him. “You’re causing a ruckus.”
