“I shouldn’t be wearing that,” he confessed. “I have no right.”
Faith set it back down between them. “Yes, you should, because you are. Did someone make this for you?”
“One of the girls from the class I spoke to. Her family leaves waters and snacks out for delivery drivers, first responders, joggers. Today there was a little basket of these bracelets. She insisted that I take this one.” His hand slipped into his pocket, and he pulled out a second one. “I got this one for you.”
Faith reached out to take the piece of plastic jewelry. “Superstar?”
“Because you are one. I hope you know that. Here at the bakery. With the soiree. You’re totally a superstar in my book.”
She felt like they could sit here all evening, just attempting to convince one another that the labels they bestowed upon each other were true.
“I don’t know…” She looked up at him, catching his eye. There was something vulnerable in the air, something different from every other interaction they’d had thus far. Maybe it was just a deeper level of friendship developing, but Faith had a feeling it was something else altogether. “How about this? I’ll wear mine if you wear yours. Deal?”
She reached for his discarded bracelet and held it out for him to take, nudging it toward him.
“Humor me?” she pressed when he didn’t budge.
“Fine.” He rolled the bracelet back on, his mouth still pitched downward in a frown. “Faith, I need to apologize to you about something.”
What would Mitch need to apologize for? Other than his sometimes-stern attitude, he hadn’t done anything explicitly wrong to Faith. Still, she sensed his vulnerability wasn’t complete with the story. He obviously had more to share.
He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat before he drew in a big, audible breath. “I might have been the little bird chirping in Josephine’s ear, telling her to hand over the soiree responsibilities to you.”
Oh. A woosh ran right through Faith, this tugging that descended to the pit of her stomach like an anchor pulling her down. She couldn’t be mad. That wasn’t fair. But she’d assumed she had been selected on her own merit, not because Mitch had put in a good word. Evidently, things weren’t as they seemed.
“I see.” She clasped her hands, rolled her thumbs.
“I’m sorry if I…if I overstepped,” he said quickly, tripping over his own words. “Not if. IknowI overstepped. I just wanted you to have a leg up in the whole bakery selection process, and I thought that if you were in charge, then you were a guarantee.”
Why did she suddenly feel this way? Both conflicted and a little sick. Happy and a little sad. “It’s okay, Mitch. Really.”
“It’s not. I should have at least talked to you about it before I opened by mouth to Josephine. I’ve barely known you a few weeks. I shouldn’t make assumptions about what you do or don’t want to take on. It wasn’t my place.”
“You’re right. Youshouldhave talked to me about it first,” she agreed. “But in my eyes, the outcome probably—hopefully—would have been the same. I’m happy to be the chairperson, and even if it wasn’t Josephine that believed in me, at least someone did.”
“I absolutely believe in you.” Mitch’s earnest look and the gentle touch of his fingertip on the back of her hand made that feeling in her stomach suddenly shift into something morepleasant. “You are incredible, Faith. As I said before, you’re a superstar.”
It was a shame that it wasn’t possible to keep oneself from blushing because Faith felt the heated redness of her cheeks betray her poise in full force. She wasn’t a superstar, but hearing Mitch declare it helped her confidence grow. It had been chipped away at recently between bad batches of cupcakes and soiree setbacks. And maybe the fact that he’d been so critical of her earlier made the compliment all the more impactful. She didn’t know. All she knew was that in this particular moment, she felt more connected to Mitch than she had to any man in a long, long while.
He pulled back, sighing. “I should get going. Get out of your hair and let you close up for the night.” He scraped his chair back and was already busy tidying up their table before she could say otherwise.
“Thank you so much for bringing me dinner.” She conveyed her appreciation with the words and a big smile. “I probably would have gone without if you hadn’t stopped by.”
“You have to eat,” Mitch practically scolded, but there was still something soft in his tone. Something comforting. “You can’t be skipping meals.”
“I’m not intentionally doing so. I just have a lot on my plate right now.”
“Filled with everything but food,” he said through a grin that birthed a whole new round of butterflies for Faith.
She followed him to the trashcan and pushed back the swinging lid on the wastebin so he could pitch the remnants of their meals into it. “I mean, I can always find something around here to eat. But believe it or not, one can actually tire of sugar and sweets.”
“Never,” he said, dubiously. “Idon’tbelieve it.”
“Hey.” She paused. “Do you want to try one of my kisses before you leave? I finally perfected the recipe for the soiree.” She was past being self-conscious about the wording. He knew what she meant.
“I’d love to try one.” The smile grew deeper on his mouth and a twinkle sparkled in his eye. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Faith half-heartedly rolled her eyes before making her way behind the pastry counter to retrieve the platter of pastel candy kisses. They were impeccably formed, shaped into the sweetest, airiest little meringues she’d ever seen. They were delightful.
