I take a bite, pleasantly surprised by what I’m tasting.
“Okay, wow. That is actually really good.”
“Right?” he says excitedly, and it’s so cute how much he looks like a little kid right now. “The flavors work well together.”
I grab the box, loading my bowl with more crunchy honey-coated pieces, and snuggle down further into the bed.
Before Ezra, I was always a bit of a night owl. Working in a kitchen kind of requires it. But since he’s way worse than I am, I’m now used to staying up so late. I even look forward to it. There’s something about the wee hours of the morning that feels so magical and far away. Everyone is asleep, and we’re in our own little world.
Tonight is no different as we watch Pam and Jim fromThe Officetry to fight their love for each other.
The irony doesn’t escape me, but I try not to think about that too much.
“We might have to extend the opening-night party for the new kitchen,” Ezra says.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. We’re getting interest left and right for entertainment. Talked to Noah today about adding another band, maybe tacking on another hour of food and drinks.”
“I’m game if you are.”
He nods. “We are. Have I mentioned how excited I am about this?”
“A few times. Though you mostly just talk about the potential profits.”
“Hey, I like making money. More money means adding to my car collection and being able to pay my lawyer to get me out of speeding tickets.” He shrugs. “But it’s not just that. I’m excited that everyone in Port Harbor will finally get to try your cooking. I’ve been feeling a little spoiled by it lately.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Should I stop cooking you elaborate meals?”
He cuts me a glare. “Don’t you dare.”
I grin, then finish off my cereal before setting the bowl aside.
“Speaking of people eating your food ...”
His words are so casual that they aren’t, and I’m instantly on edge.
He slurps up the last of his milk, then sets his bowl on his side table before turning to me and continuing.
“Sunnie’s still doesn’t have a buyer.”
I swallow the lump that’s sitting in the middle of my throat. I had a feeling that’s where this was headed.
I sit up a little more. “Ken, uh, mentioned something earlier this week when I stopped by for fritters.”
Ezra cocks his head to the side. “You talked to him about it?”
“I didn’t say that. I just said he mentioned it.”
It’s not entirely a lie. Sure, he brought it upafterI asked him about it, but still.
As bad as it sounds, I was excited when he said he didn’t have a buyer yet.
I’ve been letting myself do that lately—get excited by dreaming, and it’s because of how good it feels to be cooking again. I want to keep doing it. Not just for myself, Ezra, my dad, or the cidery even. I want to keep doing it for the younger me and for the dream she had. And I think I want to keep doing it here in Port Harbor.
Ezra blows out a breath, running his hand through his hair, and I love how messily it lies on his head. “Fuck, Summer. I don’t know what to say next. I’m scared you’re going to shut down on me.”
I frown, but it’s a fair thing to say. That’s what I’ve done in the past.
