Page 54 of Perfect Pairing
“I’ll head down there tomorrow,” I said.
“Wonderful!” She clapped, pulling away from me. “And when are you planning on moving into your apartment? Not that we don’t love having you here, but your sisters and I didn’t slave over remodeling that space for nothing.”
“Moooooom,” I groaned.
“Just wondering,” she said, shrugging in forced nonchalance.
“I need furniture. I’m too old to be sleeping on the floor.”
“So let’s run into Traverse City on Saturday and get everything you need.”
I perked up at the idea of making a girls’ day of it, of getting away from the stress of getting the bakery open to focus on getting settled in my apartment.
“Can we invite my sisters too?”
“Duh,” Mom said, sounding more like one of them than my parent. “You think they’d let us go without them?”
I laughed. “No, they definitely wouldn’t.”
By the following Monday, four days before my grand opening, I was sleeping in my apartment. I had the essentials: bed, sofa, television. My books were unpacked, and the storage closet was stocked with towels, toiletries, and cleaning products. The only appliance I had was a coffee pot. While we waited for my new fridge and stove to arrive next week, I’d be eating out at Granny’s or Sydney’s Diner—a reality I wasn’t complaining about. After spending all day baking, the last thing I felt like doing was cooking for myself.
And baking was exactly where I found myself on Tuesday evening. The giant workspace in my kitchen was laden with sweet and savory scones, croissants, turnovers, danishes, and muffins. I thought I’d finally nailed down the menu, but I couldn’t help feeling like I needed one final second opinion.
I’d studiously avoided thinking about Ezra since I’d returned home—truthfully, I hadn’t had time—but now that I was staring down opening my doors, I wanted him here, wanted his culinary expertise assessing my menu offerings and giving me the green light.
“Hey, honey,” he said when he picked up.
“Hi, Ez,” I replied, unable to hide the grin in my voice. “You busy right now?”
“Surprisingly no. I have the day off, so Hansen and I are just chilling at home.”
“How about spending some time with me instead?” I said suggestively.
“What kind of time?”
“I want you to taste my—”
“Yes,” he said hurriedly, not letting me finish.
I barked out a laugh. “Ezra! Get your mind out of the gutter. I want you to come sample my bakery menu.”
He scoffed. “I’ve already sampled your…other goods anyway.”
I rolled my eyes with a grin. “Get your fine ass down here.”
“Give me a bit to figure out a playdate for Hansen…unless you want him to come?”
I should’ve said yes, should’ve agreed to using Hansen as a buffer between us. Unfortunately for the little guy, I wanted his dad all to myself.
“Just you,” I whispered. “Please.”
“I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”
God, inviting him here was dangerous; I knew that. But I trusted his opinion more than just about anyone else in the world, and I knew he wouldn’t hold back his feelings on my baking. I wanted honesty, not my family blowing smoke to make me feel good about myself.
I had no delusions about what would happen when he got here. We’d agreed to be friends and nothing more. I wasn’t expecting him to rush in and sweep me off my feet, consuming me in a kiss worthy of the silver screen.
This was simply a man and a woman who had once been intimate and now weren’t. We were adults. We could get through this without things being weird…or so I thought.
