He winces, finally meeting my eyes. “Molls—”
“Your receipt.” I hold out the paper, forcing my professional smile back into place. Behind him, the line is growing—Mrs. Waterford with her granddaughter, Tom from the hardware store, and at least three people I don’t recognize. All waiting. Allwatching. And here I am, the girl who lives for Valentine’s Day, trying not to cry over a proposal cake that isn’t hers.
Nathan takes the receipt, his fingers brushing mine for just a second. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about how things ended.”
I pull my hand back, already peering past him. “Next customer, please.”
He hefts the cake box, hesitating like he wants to say more. But what is there to say? Thanks for the stunning engagement cake, sorry I broke your heart. Hope you have a wonderful Valentine’s Day.
The bell chimes as he leaves, and I watch through the window as he carefully places the box in his passenger seat. The same seat where I used to sit, feet on the dashboard, singing along to terrible love songs every chance I could.
“You okay?” Jodie materializes beside me, voice low.
“Perfect,” I lie, turning to Mrs. Waterford with the brightest smile I can muster. Valentine’s Day is still my favorite holiday. It has to be. “What can I get for you today?”
My hands shake slightly as I ring up her order. Mitch watches me from the doorway to the kitchen, ready to take over if I need him to. That’s what I love about what we’ve built together. Even on the worst days—like when your favorite holiday gets a little bit tainted—there’s still flour to measure, roses to pipe, and family who has your back.
The bell chimes again with another chance to spread Valentine’s joy, even if mine has temporarily gone missing. I take a deep breath, let it out slowly, and try to find that romantic energy again.
After all, there are still dozens of love stories to help create today…even if mine isn’t one of them.
Paper Hearts
Molly
Myfeetachewithevery step to the front door of my apartment building. I’ve never been more grateful to see the white brick facade of home.
The February air nips at my cheeks, but the ten-minute walk from the bakery has at least cleared my head a little from the day’s events. I’m fishing for my keys, dreaming of my couch and the half bottle of wine in my fridge, when the front door flies open.
“Molly! Perfect timing.”
Danny Vino stands in the doorway with an armful of red and pink streamers. He’s sixty-something, built like a teddy bear, and has the energy of a golden retriever who’s just discovered a tennis ball factory. He’s also the best landlord in the entire world. Fair rent, quick repairs, and he genuinely cares about all his tenants—which is probably why I can’t bring myself to dodgepast him even though every muscle in my body is screaming for rest.
“Hey, Danny,” I manage, trying to inch my way inside. “Big plans?”
“Don’t I always.” He rocks back on the heels of his feet. “The Valentine’s party is tomorrow night, remember? You RSVPed last month. And Maria just called, her back’s acting up again, and I’ve got all these decorations for the lobby and rec room. They’re not going to decorate themselves so—” He stops, really looking at me for the first time. “Rough day at the bakery?”
“You could say that.” I glance longingly at the elevator at the end of the hall. My cozy, quiet apartment on the fourth floor…
So close, yet so far.
“Tell you what,” he says, steering me toward the rec room off the lobby with surprising gentleness for someone carrying what looks like Party City’s entire Valentine’s section. “You help me get these decorations up, and I’ll order pizza from Antonio’s. My treat. I’ve got wine coolers,” he sing-songs.
My stomach growls traitorously. I haven’t eaten since the half-muffin I grabbed around noon. “That’s bribery,” I point out, but I’m already following him.
“It’s community,” he corrects, dumping the decorations on a nearby table. “Besides, you love Valentine’s Day. It’s been your favorite holiday since you moved in three years ago.”
He remembers that? Of course he does. Danny knows every tenant’s birthday, favorite pizza topping, and whether they prefer cats or dogs—given it’s a pet-friendly building. He even leaves little bags of homemade treats for all the four-legged tenants on occasion.
The man is a saint.
“It is,” I say, then add quietly, “usually.”
Danny hands me a roll of tape and a handful of paper hearts. “Usually?”
I start taping hearts to the wall, focusing on getting them evenly spaced. “You remember Nathan, right?” I ask, though he should. Danny is the one who helped me pack up Nathan’s things mere days before Christmas and brought everything down to the lobby for me when I couldn’t stop myself from crying to see clearly. “Well, he came in today to pick up a cake. Aproposalcake. For his new girlfriend.”
Danny stops mid-reach, a cupid cutout dangling from his fingers. “You’re joking.”
