“Right on time. I was going to call you and see if you wanted to come over for dinner. I’m making spaghetti,” she says, lifting her shoulder to brush the hair away from the side of her face.
“That sounds amazing.”
“So, how are you feeling? All better?” she asks as she washes her hands in soapy water and dries them on her apron.
“Yeah. Friday was the worst of it. Once my fever broke, I felt much better.” Sitting down on a stool across the island from her, I ask, “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I’ve got everything under control. You can set the table when it’s time. How about that?”
“That’s probably the safest choice. I would hate to give us both food poisoning.” I laugh at myself.
“I’ll teach you to cook yet, my dear.” Shaking her head, she chuckles. “Would you like a glass of wine?” she asks, pouring herself a glass of red.
“No, none for me. I’ll get myself a glass of water before we eat.” Running my fingers distractedly along the petals of the fresh flowers on her counter, I ask. “So, what happened with the wedding cake? Did you have to bake and decorate a new one?”
“It was a disaster. Splat right on the floor, less than twenty-four hours from when it needed to be delivered. All’s well that ends well, though.” Leaning over the counter towards me, she says, “Well, I’ve waited long enough.”
“For?” I raise an eyebrow.
“For you to tell me about Ryan, of course.” She stands back up straight and claps her hands together.
“Well,”—I pat my fingers on my lips before dropping my hand to my lap—“there’s really not much to tell.”
“I beg to differ.” She crosses her arms and smirks. “That man is positively smitten with you.”
“Smitten?” I scrunch my nose.
“Yes, smitten. Charmed. Bewitched. Captivated. Infatuated. Take your pick.”
“Well, I don’t know about all of that, but we are becoming friends.” I pause briefly before saying, “At least I think we are.”
“And what would make you think otherwise?” She moves across the kitchen to the pot of water on the stove and salts it generously.
“Umm, it was something Braden said,” I mumble, picking at my cuticle.
“I heard there was a confrontation in the parking lot yesterday.”
“Let me guess. Brian.”
I honestly don’t know how she can stand having that man sitting at the same table in the bakery day in, day out. She haskicked him out more than once for being rude to customers, but she always allows him to come back once she thinks he’s learned his lesson.
“Brian,” she confirms. “If I had known sooner, I would have come outside and given Braden a piece of my mind.”
“It wasn’t that big of a deal, really,” I try to reassure her—and myself.
“I don’t know about that,” she huffs. “When Ryan came inside to grab your coffees, he looked like he could spit nails.”
She thinks for a moment before saying, “Braden has had a grip on your heart and your mind for far too long. Now that you are finally free from him, allow yourself to heal and move on.”
I wish it were that simple. After that display in the parking lot, I wonder if I will ever be able to truly move on.
Not wanting to talk about Braden any further, I change the subject. “There is something else I would like to get your opinion on while I’m here.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Logan asked me whether I would consider moving into the yellow house. He would like to live with Hannah but doesn’t want to rent it or leave it sitting empty.”
Her eyes dance with amusement. “Think of the gnomes. I’m sure he’s concerned that they will be lonely.”
