Page 11 of Almost Ours
My heart sank a little, and I gave a tight nod, already taking a step back. “Of course. I didn’t mean to–”
I turned, already halfway to the table, when his voice rang out again–dramatic and warm.
“Harper!”
I turned.
“My Dad always was a stubborn old bastard who thought sliced bread was a fad.”
I blinked, then laughed–genuine and surprised.
“Come by tomorrow after you drop that young man off at school. We can do a trial run.”
My eyes widened. “Seriously?”
“Yes,” he said, turning with a dramatic flick of his towel. “Just don’t wear beige. It’s a soul-crushing colour.”
The morning airgreeted me as I stepped away from the school gates, the soft crunch of snow under my boots the only sound for a moment. I pulled my coat tighter around me, watching as the bell rang faintly behind me, and the last group of kids hurried inside. Connor was one of them now. A student at a new school, in a new town. Somehow, that felt bigger than it should’ve.
A few days ago, we were strangers here. Now, he had a desk with his name on it, a teacher who already knew he loved dinosaurs and hockey, and a new friend with chestnut curls named Liam. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And today, I was going to try and find my own start too.
The town was a little busier than usual–dog walkers chatting at corners, a few parents rushing home in their snow-dusted cars, coffee cups steaming in gloved hands. The bakery wasn’t far, just a few blocks away, and the walk gave me too much time to think. Too much space for worry to creep in.
What if I wasn’t cut out for this?
The thought came uninvited, sharp as the wind on my cheeks. Not just the job–though, God, it had been years since I’d worked in a place like that, worked in general. But this wholething. The move. The fresh start. The pretending like I wasn’t looking over my shoulder every time a truck slowed down or a stranger held my gaze a second too long.
I blinked into the pale morning light and kept walking. Benny had told me to come by after drop-off. I didn’t even want to tell him my last name. The less people knew, the safer we’d be.
Still, there was something about him that made me feel like I could let my guard down for half a second.
Maybe.
Even if I couldn’t, that was fine too. I wasn’t here to find connection or comfort or community.
I was here to keep Connor safe. To build something stable, brick by brick, even if I had to do it all on my own. A quiet kind of life where Connor could go to school and sleep through the night without fear. Where he could play hockey, laugh at dumb jokes, and not flinch when a door slammed too hard.
That was enough. Thathadto be enough.
He deserved normal. He deserved something that wouldn’t fall apart. And if I had to white-knuckle my way through the rest of my life to make sure he got it, then so be it.
The bakery’s front display came into view, glittering with Benny’s over-the-top winter decorations. Twinkling white lights framed the windows, and a pair of wooden reindeer stood proudly at the entrance, their antlers tangled in silver tinsel. I hesitated for a moment, watching the few people who were already inside, chatting casually over coffee. For a moment, nerves prickled my skin, and I wondered if this place could really become part of my world or if I was just chasing something I’d never find.
Taking a breath, I pushed the door open. The air was thick with the scent of butter and sugar, mingling with the earthiness of ground coffee beans. There was a faint hiss from the espresso machine, followed by the soothing gurgle of steamed milk.
A display case filled with golden pastries and neatly stacked loaves of bread lined the counter, their glossy surfaces catching the soft morning light. Flaky croissants sat next to delicate fruit tarts with glistening berries.
I stood there for a moment, letting the cozy stillness sink into my bones. It was a stark contrast to the chaos that had been my life for so long. Here, it felt like time had slowed, like the world outside didn’t matter.
Benny stood behind the counter, his ever-present smile lighting up his face the moment he spotted me. “Look who actually listened to my fashion advice!” he said, waving a hand toward my outfit. “No beige in sight. You’re already off to a fabulous start.”
I glanced down, suddenly aware of the soft sage-green sweater I’d paired with dark jeans and ankle boots still dusted with snow. My hair was half-up, half-down, mostly out of my face–an attempt to look put together even if I hadn’t slept much. One hand tightened instinctively around my opposite wrist, my thumb tracing slow circles against the skin there.
“Morning,” I replied, loosening my grip. “I’m ready to get started.”
“Let’s get you set up, then,” he said, handing me an apron. “Come on back, and I’ll show you around.”
I followed him through the small swinging door behind the counter and into the kitchen. The space was compact yet meticulously organized.
