Inside, we caught the elevator just as a tired-looking mom and a wide-eyed little boy stepped in. Beau immediately tensed, like he was ready to back off and avoid making anyone uncomfortable.
But I reached out and touched his wrist. Just a light tug. An invitation. He followed me in.
The elevator creaked as it started up. The boy stared at Beau, blinking like he wasn’t quite sure if he was dreaming.
“I love your bear claws,” he said finally, voice bright and sincere. “You make the best ones.”
Beau blinked. Then, slowly, the biggest, most genuine smile I’d ever seen spread across his face. It softened him, lit him up in a way that made my breath catch.
“Thanks, kid,” he said, voice low and warm.
When we reached my floor, the mom offered a grateful smile, and Beau held the door until she and her son stepped out.
We walked the rest of the way to my apartment in silence, my heart thudding a little faster with every step. When we reached my door, I turned to him. He was so close. So steady.
And I was done running from what I wanted.
“I’ve been thinking,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “About how you asked me out for coffee. More than once.”
Beau didn’t speak. Just watched me, expression unreadable but open. Waiting.
“I regret saying no,” I admitted, dropping my gaze for a moment. “I was scared. Still am. But… I don’t want to keep pushing this away. You said you’d wait until I was ready.”
“I meant it,” he said softly.
I looked up, holding his gaze. “Well… I’m ready now.”
For a heartbeat, he didn’t move. Then a slow, warm grin curled across his face, and something inside me just… settled.
“Then I’m looking forward to it,” Beau said.
I didn’t invite him in. Not yet. But as I stepped inside and closed the door behind me, I leaned against it and smiled. Maybe I didn’t have everything figured out. But this? This felt right.
Chapter 6
Sean/ Beau
SEAN
The bakery smelled like vanilla, cinnamon, and proofed yeast, comforting and familiar.
I’d grown used to these early morning shifts, the rhythm of flour-dusted prep counters and low banter with Rafael and Dorian before the doors opened.
It was strange how quickly this place had become my version of normal.
Dorian was humming something upbeat while folding dough, and Rafael was elbow-deep in mixing honey-cardamom batter.
I was portioning out croissant filling when I glanced at the back door, expecting the familiar creak followed by Beau’s heavy footsteps.
Nothing. I checked the time. Still early. But not that early.
“Hey,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Where’s Beau? He usually beats us all here.”
Rafael didn’t look up from the batter. “He’s not coming in till after lunch.”
I paused mid-scoop. “Is he okay?”
That got his attention. Rafael finally glanced over, his brows raised. “Yeah. Why?”
