Page 129 of Royal Icing
He opened his mouth to speak, to stutter, to scream that he loved her too. But she stopped him.
“I know it’s only been a month. But that doesn’t make it less true. You’ve unlocked something in me that I didn’t know was there. I was in New York, trying to put this plan that I’ve been working toward for a decade into action. But it didn’t feel right. None of it felt right. And it’s because of you. You broke me,” she said with an accusatory finger.
He raised his eyebrows.
“I don’t even know if I want to bake anymore. I want to do more, be more. Help people. Find a way to make a difference in this world the way you do. But I don’t know how to do that. I still need to take care of my mom, and I can’t just pick up and?—”
Leo dragged her close and kissed her hard. She melted into him, gripping his shoulders as their tongues danced.
He pulled back and looked into the brilliant green of her eyes. “First, let me say I love you. I think I’ve known it since the second you walked into that pole. You are so talented, thoughtful, stunningly beautiful, and you bring peace in a way I’ve only felt when I’m in my workshop with a crackling fire and a mug of spiced wine. Second, I would never ask you to give up your home, your dreams, anything for me.”
“Then how do we make this work? I can’t handle not knowing when I’m going to see you again. I want you for every holiday, every Tuesday, every wing night at Sal’s bar.” She waved a hand down the street.
He broke into a smile. “Come with me.”
They came to a stop in front of the soup kitchen. Smells of roast turkey and herby mashed potatoes were drifting out, warming the street.
“Actually, can you close your eyes for a second?” he asked.
“Okay,” she said with a hesitant smile.
He reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a sheet of paper. He scribbled something on it and plastered it to the window with a piece of tape. He had hoped for a much grander and more concrete display, but hopefully it would still get his point across.
“Okay, open.”
She opened her eyes and looked around, then looked at him. He pointed to the sheet of paper.
“Petal and Pastry?” she asked. “What’s this?”
“When the new community center is built, the soup kitchen’s going to move over there,” he said. “Which will leave this building vacant.”
“Okay,” she said slowly.
“I know your apartment is rent-controlled, and that it’s an invaluable commodity in today’s day and age.”
She nodded, and he continued. “I did some digging into succession laws, and there are some exemptions for the residency requirements. For example, there’s some flexibility if you’re required to leave the home temporarily for employment purposes.”
She tilted her head.
He took her hand. “What if you lived here for a few months out of the year? Maybe in the spring or summer? I can keep you safe from your dad. Felons aren’t even allowed into the country, in the unlikely event that he cobbled together enough brain cells to apply for a passport.”
She bit her lip, but he plowed on. “We can create a seasonal position for your mom to be in charge of the community garden, and we could contract you to bake for the community kitchen. Your noncompete shouldn’t apply across international lines. You could have this space, and your mom could sell the flowers she grows in the garden, and you can still make your beautiful cakes. If you apply for dual citizenship, you and your mom will both be eligible for free national healthcare, and I’ll use every last connection I have to find her the finest physical therapist in this country. And I know it’ll be tricky to find a place to bake in New York, but I asked my mother, and it turns out we actually have a Lynorian consulate in Queens with a fully equipped kitchen, so the next time Lady Gaga needs—why are you crying?”
A tear streaked down her face, and he caught it with his thumb. Shit. He knew it was too much. Only an unbalancedperson would plan an entire life out for someone else without even consulting them first.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just didn’t expect this. No one’s ever done something like this for me.”
He took her hand again. “I think you haven’t had anyone to take care of you in a really long time. But you don’t have to do this alone anymore. This is a partnership, Emma. You’ve helped me so much. Let me return the favor.”
“What about my mom? And the dogs? We’re a package deal.”
Leo smiled. “Someday, hopefully, your family will be my family. Your traditions will be my traditions.”
A blush crept into her cheeks.
“We’ll get a wheelchair-accessible caravan. She can come with us on our tour of the provinces. We’ll decorate the hell out of wherever we live every Christmas with animal butt ornaments or—what did you say you do again? I’ll have to work on finding a home with an in-law suite,” he muttered to himself. Another item for the to-do list. “Not that I expect you to move in with me. We’ll find a place for you and your mom while you’re here.”
“And what about your family? They still hate me,” she said.
