Page 40 of Stolen Vows

“Yes,” I answer just as quickly.

She leans back in her chair, fingers tracing absent patterns along Romeo’s back, a soft smile curving her lips. “Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page then.”

I nod, my attention caught on the smudge of frosting still clinging to the corner of her mouth. Before I can think twice, before I can talk myself out of it, my hand moves on instinct. I reach out, my thumb sweeping across her skin, catching the sugary sweetness.

Her breath hitches, lips parting on a quiet inhale.

Realizing what I’ve done, I pull my hand back, fingers curling into my palm.

“Sorry, you had some . . .” I trail off lamely, gesturing vaguely to my own mouth.

Francesca blinks at me, a faint blush staining her cheeks. Then she laughs softly, shaking her head. “I’m a mess, aren’t I? Maybe this is why my mother didn’t let us have baked goods in the house.”

My brows pull together. “Your mom didn’t let you have cakes and cookies in the house?”

Francesca sighs, her smile turning a little wistful. “No, she was always very strict about that kind of thing. Image and appearances were everything to her.” She runs her finger along the edge of her cupcake liner, gathering up a bit of stray frosting. “Cupcakes and cookies didn’t fit into her vision of the perfect family.”

My frown deepens, an unexpected protectiveness surging in my chest. “Francesca, that’s?—”

She pushes to her feet so suddenly that Romeo startles, his head jerking up.

“I don’t know why I told you that.” Her voice is rushed, her movements frenetic as she reaches for the discarded wrappers and napkins. “Anyway, let me clean up. I’m sure you have things to do.”

I watch her hands move too quickly, her fingers tightening around the crumpled napkins like she needs something to hold on to. Like she’s trying to outrun the vulnerability she just let slip. She won’t meet my eyes, her shoulders pulled in tight.

And that strange, unfamiliar ache beneath my breastbone? It settles in deep.

I want to say something, to assure her that she has nothing to be embarrassed about. That I want to know everything about her, even the painful parts. Especially the painful parts. But the words stick in my throat, tangled up with all the things I don’t know how to articulate.

She crosses the room, coming back with her dog’s leash in her hand. “Well, I better get him on his walk. And I still have to clean up from today before I can open back up tomorrow.”

I nod, slipping one hand into my pocket. “Yeah. Makes sense.”

A beat of silence lingers, not exactly awkward but something close to it.

She clears her throat, glancing up at me with a wry twist of her lips. “Gosh, I can’t believe I’ll be open tomorrow too. I don’t know if you can tell, but I’ve never owned a bookstore before.”

My lips twitch. “I couldn’t tell. You did great today.”

Her smile widens for a second before she shakes her head, like she’s dismissing it. She steps toward the front door, and I follow, my sneakers loud against the hardwood.

She pulls open the inside door, and I step through, stopping just inside the little vestibule. The original tiled floor gleams black and white beneath the golden hour sunlight slanting through the glass.

I turn back to her, content to wait to see how this plays out.

“Thank you for coming, Graham.” Her voice is soft, the quiet warmth of it settling in my chest. She shifts Romeo’s leash to her other hand, fingers flexing slightly. “And thank you for the cupcakes. It was really thoughtful of you.” Her smile is small but sincere.

I take a mental snapshot, forcing myself to imprint this image of her onto my brain. Or the backs of my eyelids. Or—fuck it—even my retinas.

I’m not picky.

But the softness of her, the warmth in her eyes, the way she tucks her hair behind her ear, the quiet, steady energy she carries. It feels so fucking good that I never want to forget this moment.

Thisis the moment I realize it wasn’t some bullshit mystery I was unraveling all this time. That there’ssomethinghere. And I fucking knew it.

Now all I have to do is convince her.

I exhale, nodding once. “Until next time, Francesca.”

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