It’s my turn to drop my jaw.
She flips her hair over her shoulder. “He wishes.” She walks away, her chin lifted.
I snort a laugh. Wow. There’s a lot going on there. I quickly busy myself with my design and avoid making eye contact with her for a while, so I don’t have to say things out loud about Logan that I’m just starting to put together in my head.
I hang a large, gilded frame on the wall behind and off to the side of my tree. I’ve created three giant ornaments that I’m going to hang from a ribbon so that they’re inside of the frame. It’s a 3D effect that’s out of the box. I’m really proud of this plan. One of the ornaments has stripes, the other is checkered, and the last is plain. As I carefully hang a hand-painted ornament, I catch my reflection on its shiny surface. The person looking back at me seems different somehow—softer, more open.
I smile, and she smiles back. The effect is noticeable, and I like her.
She’s not who I was before my ex. She’s not who I became because of the pain and betrayal he brought into my life. She’s new.
I can’t wait to get to know her. My stomach rumbles, and I realize it’s after three. I’ve been here all day, and the only thing I’ve eaten was oatmeal. I need some food. I ask around to see if anyone else wants something.
“I’m having an early dinner with my wife, but thank you,” says Marcus.
“I ate half a batch of cookies,” Olivia says with a look of regret.
“I had a late lunch.” Evelyn rubs her stomach with a frown. “Thank you for offering. Enjoy.” She waves as I leave.
When I step out of the hotel, I don’t feel like going home. Instead, I make my way to the cafe that always smells so good. I swear they pump air from their baking ovens right into the street. Today’s as good a day as any to try something new.
Sixteen
BAILEY
The bell above the door of Sweet Haven Bakery & Café jingles merrily as I step inside, shaking off the chill of the winter evening. The warm, inviting aroma of freshly baked goods envelops me instantly, a comforting blend of cinnamon, vanilla, and the rich scent of brewing coffee. The rustic wooden beams overhead and exposed brick walls adorned with vintage bakery signs create a cozy atmosphere that feels like a warm hug. I’ve only been in here one other time, and that was at ten in the morning when there was a coffee rush.
I scan the mismatched wooden tables and chairs, my gaze landing on a familiar figure hunched over a steaming mug. Logan sits alone in a corner, his broad shoulders slumped and his usually bright green eyes downcast.
The sight of him looking so defeated tugs at my heart. He’s never down. Not when I snapped at him, not when we were kicked out of the ballroom so they could mop the floors, and not even when we got snowed in.
Before I can overthink it, my feet carry me towards his table. “Logan?” I say softly, not wanting to startle him.
He looks up, surprise flickering across his face before a small smile appears. “Bailey,” he greets me. “Hey.”
Okay, that was sexy. I gulp. “Hey.” I glance at the half-eaten cinnamon roll on his tray. “Oh no. What happened?”
His brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“You didn’t eat everything in sight. What’s wrong?” I tease. I pull out a chair and sit down, resting my chin on my fist. “Tell me everything.”
He stares at me as if I’m an alien.
I kind of feel like one. This animated version of me is new to both of us. But he grins and I decide I’m glad I goofed around.
Logan pushes the cinnamon roll toward me, and I peel off a section. It’s not warm, but it’s full of flavor, and … is that cream cheese frosting? Holy cow.
“It’s this family we helped this afternoon,” he begins, his voice low. “The storm destroyed all their Christmas decorations. They had these big blow-up yard decorations that the kids absolutely loved. You should have seen their faces when we found them torn to shreds half a block away.”
My heart clenches at the image. “That’s terrible,” I murmur.
“Yeah,” Logan nods, his eyes distant. “The worst part is, I know the parents can’t afford to replace them. Christmas is going to be tough enough for them as it is, and now...” He trails off, shaking his head.
As I watch Logan’s face, usually so full of warmth and optimism, now creased with worry and disappointment, an idea begins to form in my mind. “You know,” I start hesitantly, “I have several items I bought for the competition that I won’t be using. They’re pretty sturdy meant for outdoor use. Maybe... maybe if the family has any trees or bushes in their yard, we could make it work?”
Logan’s head snaps up, his eyes widening as he processes my words. “Really?” he asks. “You’d be willing to do that? It’ll mean a late-late night, and judging is the day after tomorrow.”
I nod, warmth spreading through my chest at the idea of creating something the kids will like. “I’m sure.” Missing sleep will put a strain on me for the last leg of the decorating contents, but it’ll be worth it.
