Page 81 of Almost Ours
A relationship? Now? After everything? I was barely figuring out which version of my life I was even living–still piecing myself back together, still learning how to be okay on my own. Still fighting the instinct to flinch every time a door slammed too hard.
And Ryan… he wasn’t part of the plan.
That moment, though? It cracked something open. Because my body hadn’t reacted like that in years–maybe ever. That kind of heat, that kind of tension… it wasn’t just attraction. It felt like safety and danger all rolled into one. Like he could be something good. Or he could ruin me.
I stole a glance at him across the table.
He wasn’t looking at me, not directly. But his hand was close. His leg still brushed against mine. And I was still very much not breathing normally.
Maybe this didn’t have to be anything serious. Maybe it was just chemistry. A pull. A moment. Who said anything about a relationship, anyway?
So maybe I just ride this out. See what happens. No one has to know.
And the scariest part?
Some reckless, aching part of me wanted him sosobad.
We all stood, ready to leave, the last of the mugs and plates cleared away. I slipped my bag over my shoulder and started toward the door before pausing.
“Oh–before I forget.” I reached into my bag and pulled out Ryan’s baseball cap, holding it out to him. “You left this at my place the other night.”
His brows lifted slightly as he took it from me, fingers brushing mine in exchange. “Guess I did.”
“Connor wanted to keep it,” I said with a small smile. “But I figured you might want it back.”
One corner of his mouth kicked up. “Tell him I appreciate him not holding it for ransom.”
I rolled my eyes, stepping outside, yet I couldn’t quite stop the tiny smile tugging at my lips.
The bakery smelledlike sugar and cinnamon heaven. If heaven also included my kid perched on a stool at the counter, licking a spoon clean and declaring himselfhead taste tester.
The overhead lights cast a soft glow over the empty cafe, reflecting off the polished glass display case that, for once, wasn’t full of muffins and cookies but instead sat wiped clean, ready for tomorrow. The “Closed” sign hung in the front window, the street outside quiet except for the occasional crunch of tires over snow.
“This one’s too sweet,” Connor said with his mouth full, shoving the spoon toward me like he was a judge onbake off.
Benny’s laugh rumbled from behind the counter, where he was pulling another tray from the oven. “Too sweet? Kid, you just inhaled half a cinnamon roll before dinner.”
“Doesn’t mean it can’t be better,” Connor shot back, swinging his legs.
I grinned, jotting down a note beside the recipe printout. “Honest feedback. Brutal, but honest.”
Benny glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowing at me. “Okay, you’ve been hobbling around all day like you just ran a marathon. What’d you do–pull a hamstring whisking batter?”
I rolled my eyes, trying not to limp as I crossed the kitchen. “Ha-ha. No, I went to the gym yesterday.”
“Ohhhh,” Benny drawled. “One gym session and you’re walking like a ninety-year-old. No, actually, that’s an insult to ninety-year-olds,” Benny went on with a grin. “My grandma gets around faster than whatever this is you’re doing. Should I install a handrail over there?”
I stuck my tongue out at him. “It’s called progress. You’d understand if you ever set foot in a gym.”
Benny gasped like I’d just slapped him with a baguette. “Excuse me? I’ll have you know I have been to the gym. Twice. And both times I looked fabulous doing absolutely nothing.”
I snorted, and Connor choked on his hot chocolate, trying to hide his laugh behind the mug.
Benny slid a new tray toward us, steam curling in the air. “Alright, sore muscles, tell me what you think of these. Lemon shortbread.”
I broke one in half, inhaling the buttery scent, and took a bite. “Oh my God.”
Connor leaned in. “You have to share.”
