Page 131 of Desserts for Stressed People

He opens the box, and sitting at the center of it is the most beautiful Oreo. Well, it’s a regular Oreo, but the mix of relief and exhilaration makes it look even better.

“Oh, Mr. Hassholm.” I hold a hand to my chest as I catch my breath, then I take it. “My favorite. I thought—how did you find out?”

“I didn’t.”

My brows furrow deeply over my eyes.

“I didn’t need to.”

He didn’t need to? What does that mean? I think back to our conversation when we made the bet, wondering what exactly gave me away.

“So...Can you guess it?”

“Your favorite dessert?”

“Anyone’s. If you know someone, can you just tell which dessert they’ll like?”

“I’m not a fortune teller, but I can take a guess.”

“Guess mine, then.”

When my eyes flare, the smile on his face deepens. He knows I know.

“You never asked,” I breathe. “I askedyou, and you didn’t tell me. You said someone’s favorite dessert says a lot about them, then...” I shake my head. “Then I challenged you to guess. You never asked.”

“I told you.” He takes another step. “I didn’t need to, Heaven.”

Clenching my fist, I go for a mock-punch on his shoulder. “You already knew, didn’t you?” I shriek. “Why didn’t you say it?”

He chuckles, locking my hand in his when I go for a second hit and burst into a fit of laughter. “And miss all that fun baking for you? I told you, you looked like you needed desserts.”

“Oh my God.” I giggle as he lets me go. I should probably be more upset that he played me, but his treats were too delicious for me to feel any kind of resentment. “You can’t bethatcompetitive if you made a bet with the intention of losing.”

He squares his shoulders. “I’mextremelycompetitive. We were just competing for different things.”

Getting lost in his gorgeous irises, I swallow. I think he was competing for me—that’s what he means. “How thehelldid you know?” I ask as my grin softens.

He holds out his hand, and once I grab it, his fingers entangle tighter with mine. “Something I’d never tell my date?”

A nervous smile bends my lips as I’m reminded of that day, forever ago, when we told each other the worst things we’d done in our lives. “Sure, Mr. Dirty-pants.”

After huffing out a laugh, he inhales deeply. “For five years, I’ve been in love with a woman who didn’t know I existed until ten weeks ago.”

My breath catches in my throat, my body flinching the moment my brain registers his words. Tightening his grip, he keeps me rooted once again.

He said helovesme. He said he’s loved me forfive years.

I can’t wrap my mind around it in the seconds of silence that follow. After all, I came here knowing what we were and thinking we’d never be that again. That I’d have to learn how to miss him quietly, since that’s all I had left of us.

“Five years?” I ask as I try to read the truth in his eyes. They sparkle.

“Since you joined IMP.”

My heart tumbles in my chest. Is that what his sister meant when she said he had been pining over me for years? Is that what Marina meant? “What—why didn’t you say anything?”

His jaw sets as he stares at me from behind his long lashes. “Your second week at IMP, we had a Christmas party. You came with Alex, and you were obviously happy together. I figured, if it’s meant to happen, it’ll happen naturally.”

I remember that party. It was maybe our fifth or sixth date. The thought of being alone there scared me since I didn’t know people well enough by then and Emma hadn’t joined yet.

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