They laugh.
“We’ll bring the whole fridge,” Reid says. “Just don’t move.”
I don’t.
I let them hold me.
Love me.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Juliet
Two months later.
I love Sundays.
Everyone works the bakery on Sundays.
Vitaly, Orion, and Elliot rule the kitchen like it’s a war zone made of butter.
Noah pulls lattes with little hearts in the foam and helps me man the counter.
Callum busses tables with Reid.
Those two are always five seconds from a food fight.
“Reid’s having another fucking snack break,” Callum groans as he pulls me in for a kiss.
“Vitaly made fresh apple shit again,” Reid says, unapologetic.
Honestly?
Fair.
“Sharlotka,” Elliot calls, correcting him.
“Apple cake,” Reid fires back with zero remorse.
“It’s apple cake, lis,” Vitaly teases.
“Damn, sexy talk before the church crowd?” Orion slides behind me and pops a bite of ptichye moloko between my lips.
I moan.
He smirks like he invented sugar.
“You gonna feed me, big guy?” Callum leans over the counter and opens his mouth. “My kartoshka done?”
I laugh, because not even a whole damn commercial kitchen could keep up with their appetites.
And then the bell rings.
We all pretend we’re not a single breath away from turning the pastries into foreplay.
But I’m not laughing anymore.
Because I see him.
