Page 51 of Sweetly Yours

Willow’s buzzing around behind the counter, putting together orders and chatting with customers, looking as happy as ever. Watching her thrive makes me proud—she’s my best friend, and no one deserves this kind of success more than she does.

But still, as much as I love seeing her like this, it’s hard not to feel the emptiness creeping in.

She’s got it all, a thriving bakery, a guy who adores her, and now a baby on the way. Meanwhile, I’m sitting here, debating whether I need another houseplant just to make my apartment feel less lonely.

“June, you okay?”

I glance up to see Willow standing over me, her hands dusted with flour and her brown eyes full of concern.

“Yeah, of course,” I say quickly, forcing a smile. “Just tired. Valentine’s week is killing me.”

She raises a brow, clearly unconvinced, but she doesn’t push. “Okay,” she says, slipping into the chair across from me. “But you’ve been off lately. You want to talk about it?”

Before I can come up with a convincing excuse, the bell over the door jingles, and I feel my stomach flip.

Of course it’s Liam.

He strolls in, casual as ever, his dark hair a little messy, his t-shirt clinging just enough to remind me why I shouldn’t look at him too long. There’s a streak of grease on his arm—probably from working on a car earlier—and a coffee cup in his hand.

“Hey, Willow,” he says, leaning on the counter. His voice is low and smooth, the kind that makes it impossible not to notice him.

“Liam,” she greets, grinning as she grabs a fresh batch of muffins.

I sink a little further into my chair, hoping he doesn’t notice me. But of course, he does.

“June,” he says, nodding in my direction.

“Liam,” I reply, trying to sound casual. I lift my cup in a lame attempt at a wave.

His grin widens slightly, and for a second, I swear there’s something teasing in the way he looks at me. Then he turns back to Willow, chatting with her about something I can’t quite hear.

I pretend not to watch him, but it’s impossible not to. He’s got this easy, laid-back confidence that I’ve noticed since Gavin and Willow’s wedding, where we first met.

He’d seemed like a good guy—funny, reliable—but also like he had a past he didn’t talk about. There’s something abouthim, the way he carries himself, that feels both intriguing and intimidating.

“June,” his voice cuts into my thoughts, and I realize he’s looking at me again.

“What?” I blink, caught off guard.

“You should stop by the shop sometime,” he says, holding up his coffee cup. “In case your car needs a check-up or something.”

It’s a cheesy line, and he knows it. But the way he says it, with that slight grin, makes it work.

“Maybe,” I say, trying to sound indifferent, even though my face feels like it’s on fire.

He nods, still smirking as he heads for the door. “See you around, June.”

When he’s gone, I glance at Willow, who’s standing behind the counter, staring at me with the biggest smirk I’ve ever seen.

“What?” I ask, trying to act clueless.

“Nothing,” she says, her tone dripping with amusement as she starts wiping down the counter.

I roll my eyes, muttering, “He’s just being nice.”

“Sure,” Willow says, clearly not buying it.

I take a long sip of my latte, trying to ignore the way my stomach feels like it’s doing flips. Guys like Liam don’t go for girls like me. They go for women who are put together, who don’t stumble over their words or pretend they’re not staring when he walks into a room.

---