“It’s why I was afraid when Jamie and Noah got together, because no offense, and I’m glad I’m wrong, but Jamie was awful to us all. I know he was going through a lot. I know he deals with a lot of mental health issues and trauma, but I was afraid. Noah loves deeply. I was afraid Jamie would be mean to him and Noah would take it personally. I’m so happy I was wrong. Somehow, they fit. I don’t think I could pick anyone better for my best friend.” Mark glares. “Don’t tell Jamie I said that either!”
“I have no doubt about him being a great friend.” I know at the end of the day Noah is harmless, and if any of us areuncomfortable with something he does, we tell him and he stops. Instantly. “I’m just worried he’s going to hang dildos from the ceiling or hire male strippers to cater an event.”
“He wouldn’t hire strippers. He has us.” Mark leans forward, grabbing his game and shutting it off. “The thing is, he went to school for business. He was raised by a man who built a security empire, and he was expected to take over that empire. It was his life until his father kicked him out. And you know what? A lot of trust fund kids would be devastated by the lack of money and being cut off, but Noah doesn’t care. As insane as he can be, he does not give a fuck about money. He gives a fuck about people. His people.”
“Your friend is still a lot,” Hunter mumbles, focusing back on the TV.
“That may be, but when Noah says he wants to help you, know that he wants to. Genuinely. He’s not someone who’ll sit there and offer help only to be annoyed when you need it. Noah wants to help. Let him help you, because not to be mean, but I assume this morning at the bakery is the norm. Right?”
“What do you mean?”
“Dead, Sawyer. Dead. Let Noah sprinkle his glitter magic over your shop. Believe me, you’ll get customers.” He sits back in his chair, and I’m a little taken aback by it. I’ve never seen Mark like this when talking about Noah.
I watch Hunter’s knee bounce a little then he looks at Mark. “I’m sorry.” He smiles at him and gets up to plant a kiss on top of his head. “I know he’s your friend.”
Mark smiles, grabbing his shirt and pulling him in for a kiss. “He’s your friend too, Puck Daddy.”
“Sorry I’m late!”Noah walks into my bakery, a notebook tucked tight against his chest. He lets the notebook fall away, and it’s almost instinct now to read the words on his shirts.
This one is a loose white crop top that stops above his belly button. The bold hot-pink letters sayI may be a handful, but so are my tits. He’s paired it with tight dark-wash skinny jeans and a pair of converse on his feet He’s had a haircut recently, shaved on the sides with his curls styled on top. “Are you checking me out?” He stops in the middle of my shop and poses for me. “It’s okay. Look your fill.”
“I’m more wondering if you came straight from work with that shirt on.” Noah laughs. Not that Noah isn’t pretty. He’s very attractive.
“I had to run home quick and change. I’ve tried talking to Lia about a dress code change but it’s not taking yet.” I have no idea if he’s serious. Noah does a little spin for me. “Aren’t I adorable? Do you lie awake at night wondering what could have been?”
“You’re the one who got away.” His mouth drops open. “Kidding.”
“Tease,” he laughs. “So.” He puts a foot on the bar of my stool, arching his back and posing with his butt poking out. “Where do you want me?”
“You’re impossible.” I push him toward my apartment stairs in the back. “Let’s go upstairs. I just finished closing.”
After I lock the bakery, I walk with him upstairs. I’ve never invited him up here. My apartment is small, just two bedrooms. Mine and one that sits empty. I had thoughts of turning it into an office but gave that idea up. I don’t really need it. I also thoughtabout turning it into a gym, but going to the gym with Hunter is the only time I really leave this place.
The living room and kitchen is an open concept, separated by a counter, and the kitchen has a big island in the middle perfect for prepping and cooking. There’s also a small kitchen table with four chairs, so Noah makes himself comfortable there. “Do you want something to drink?”
“If you have iced coffee, I’ll love you forever.”
“Let me see.” I take out the coffee I had left over from this morning and the heavy whipping cream. Then I grab the homemade caramel syrup I have and decorate the inside of a glass cup with it. Taking my tray of ice cubes, I drop a handful into the cup, then I grab my homemade vanilla extract and cinnamon. Mixing the coffee and cream, I put in a few drops of vanilla extract and decide to add something extra, grabbing the monk fruit extract and adding a few drops of that as well. Then I top it off with a dash of cinnamon and swirl it around with a reusable straw.
I join him at the table and slide him his drink. Noah takes a sip, his eyes lighting up. “Oh my god. This! Why aren’t you making this downstairs!?”
“It’s just iced coffee.”
“Sawyer, it’s neverjusticed coffee. You clearly have a gift. Don’t minimize it. Jamie makes me iced coffee all the time, and between you and me, it doesn’t taste a quarter as good as this. One of the nights we’re planning, make this. People will love it.” He takes another sip with a whine. “Why is it so good?”
“I don’t know. It’s just cream and coffee, with some cinnamon, vanilla, and monk fruit extract.”
“What’s monk fruit?”
“It’s a fruit from south China. It looks kind of like a kiwi on the outside. It’s used as a zero-calorie sweetener. I use it instead of sugar in a lot of things. It’s a lot sweeter, I prefer it.”
“This is to die for!” he whines, taking another sip, and he writes “iced coffee” in his notebook. “Now we need to think about what you want and what you can handle, okay? How crazy do we want to go?”
“I have no idea what we’re doing, so I’m not sure.”
“No worries. Let’s start here. Mark is going to help me with a website for you, so we need to do that first. No one calls for orders anymore, almost everything is online unfortunately, so we need a place for orders to be placed. Then people can come in and pick up their treats. That’s the first thing.” He puts his pen down. “Let me see your phone.”
“I . . . um.”
