Page 62 of Perfect Pairing
Maybe, in sharing all my truths with him, I’d also been handing over pieces of my heart all along.
It gutted me that I’d never get them back.
TWO YEARS, TWO MONTHS LATER
“Can I run somethingby you?” Ezra asked me and my sister, pulling me up short.
I was halfway out of my seat, desperate for some clean, Ezra-free air after he, Delia, and I spent the past few hours discussing the winery’s contribution to the Apple Blossom Bay Fall Festival, which started in two weeks. Every year, we set up booths inside the barn near the corn maze and pumpkin patch to serve snacks and treats. As Ezra was the winery’s head chef and I was the resident pastry girlie, we’d been forced to work together on it for the last two seasons since I moved home from Chicago and opened the bakery.
Truthfully, I wanted to be anywhere else.
I’d done my level best to maintain a professional and amicable relationship with Ezra sincethat night. I didn’t go out of my way to avoid him, but I also wasn’t making it a point to spend any extra time in his presence. He’d made it clear what he wanted from me when he left my apartment that morning—which wasnothing, for the record—and I’d been a foolish, naivegirl to think one night of incredible passion, a connection I hadn’t found with anyone else before or since, would be enough to change his mind.
The worst part was, I couldn’t even fault him for it. Hansen had to be his top priority. I’d done what I could to move on and make our working relationship as smooth and tension-free as possible.
“What’s up, Ez?” I asked, dropping back onto my chair.
My gaze darted across the table to Delia, who also sank back into her seat. She gave me a reassuring smile, and I resisted the urge to reach for her hand, to ground myself when my heart was beating out of my chest.
Call it woman’s intuition, but I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like whatever happened next.
“I want to get more involved in the community, beyond all of this,” he said, gesturing to the winery. “So I was thinking about ways I could give back, and I thought perhaps hosting a fall dinner of sorts at the community center would be fun. I’m thinking a ticketed event with five to seven courses, each cooked by me and paired with a Chateau Delatou wine. I could do fall-inspired dishes with a Swedish flair.”
Instantly, I perked up. In all my years of living here, I could say with confidence that neither the community nor the winery had ever hosted anything remotely similar. I gaped slightly at Ezra. For the last few years, he’d been…withdrawn. The bags under his eyes had practically been designer, and everything about him had seemed haunted. Maybe I was delusional, but I couldn’t help thinking it had something to do with me. But now, he was present. His eyes were bright, dancing with excitement, and hisnormally flattened mouth was tipped up into a heart stopping smile.
I’d missed that smile—missed being the one who put it there.
“And Brie,” Ezra continued, startling me into closing my mouth and relaxing my posture, forcing myself into pretending I wasn’t hanging on his every word. “I was hoping you’d contribute to the dessert course. Maybe you could come up with something to pair with the CD ice wine?”
“I—” I started, choking on that single letter, then cleared my throat. “That sounds wonderful, Ez. Count me in.”
After all, this wasmycommunity too. I was more than happy to participate.
I tuned out Delia and Ezra discussing marketing logistics and running through ideas of where to donate the proceeds. Already, my mind swirled with ideas, and I couldn’t wait to get home and consult Granny’s recipe book for some more inspiration. I’d definitely be doing something with apples, but maybe I could also whip up some sort of sweetened pumpkin concoction…
Distantly, I clocked Ezra mentioning needing to figure out where he’d cook everything, but I was still lost in my head.
Until my sister quipped, “You should use the bakery’s kitchen! It’s only a few storefronts up from the community center, and there’s plenty of workspace and storage.”
I gritted my teeth and said, “Storage I use for my shop.”
My sister had a habit of doing stuff like this. I was no stranger to what she referred to as her “inner chaos demon,” I’d just never been on the receiving end of the shit-stirring until now.
Unperturbed, she shrugged and pressed on. “You can use that industrial sized fridge that takes up ninety percent of thekitchen in your apartment. After the hell you put Dad and Logan through to get it up there, it’s really the least you could do.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she added, “Unless you want Ezra using that one instead.”
I glared daggers at my sister, wishing I had the ability to nuke people with a simple look. Over my dead body would Ezra Wendt step foot in my apartment ever again, and Delia knew that.
I’d never gone into specifics with my sisters about what happened between me and him. They knew about the first hook up at the winery, but nothing else. The phone calls—those were too precious to me. Meant to be kept safe in that moment of time for only him and I to remember, preserved like a dragonfly in amber.
Ella had been there in the aftermath, holding me together enough to pick up the pieces and get the bakery open, but even she wasn’t privy to the full story.
That was between me, Ezra, and the past. I preferred it stayed there.
I definitely hadn’t told them I’d had sex with him. I loved them dearly, but Chloe, Amara, and Delia all had huge mouths. My parents would know right away because they’d never be able to keep it to themselves, and I hadn’t wanted Ezra to get fired. That would’ve only made a bad situation worse.
Although now that Amara was his boss, I supposed it didn’t matter so much.
“I really wouldn’t want to impose…” Ezra said slowly, pulling me from plotting all the ways I could get back at Delia for this.
