Page 76 of Fragile Heart

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I’m up before the sun the next morning, ready to head to the bakery and prep for the day. Hudson begrudgingly lets me out of bed and offers to come with me so he can help.

When we get to the bakery, I toss him a spare apron. “Really?” he questions.

“Really.” I smile at him and watch him pull it down over his head and tie it around his back. “Wouldn’t want you all covered in flour.”

I get him started on a simple cookie dough recipe while I decorate some cupcakes I made yesterday afternoon.

Holly walks in shortly after. I hired her part-time to help with sales and marketing, but she still works a few days a week at the diner. I also have another girl who helps with the day-to-day stuff.

“Well, well, well,” Holly says as she walks in, twirling her keys around her finger. “Look who it is.”

She looks between Hudson and me, trying not to smile, but I can tell she’s happy about this.

When everything with Hudson first happened, she hated him. And I meanhatedhim. She wouldn’t even say his name for weeks, which was fine because I didn’t want to talk about him. But then I think she saw how sad I was, and yesterday she caved and told me they had been messaging back and forth, keeping tabs on me. Somehow, someway, Hudson got her to come around.

“So, did you guys talk everything out last night?” she asks, eyeing us knowingly.

Hudson smirks. “You could say that.” We did talk, but we did a lot of other things, too. Making up for lost time and all that.

“Mm-hmm. Well, whatever. Just don’t hurt my girl again, Hollywood, or I’ll really cut your balls off.”

Hudson’s face pales. “Jesus. I actually believe you, too.”

“Good.” They stare each other down for a second before I break the silence.

“Well, now that that’s over, can we get to work?”

“Yes, boss,” Hudson says, stirring in cookie ingredients.

The cupcakes I’ve been working on turn out exactly how I hoped they would, so I slide them into the glass case in the front so Holly can take pictures for our social media. I walk back to where Hudson is diligently scooping cookie dough onto the cookie trays. My hands slide around his waist, pulling his back to my front.

“You know, this looks good on you,” I whisper into his broad back.

He turns his head to see me over his shoulder. “You’re right. You do look good on me.” He jerks when I pinch his side.

“That’s not what I meant, but I’ll take it.” He turns in my arms to face me. “I meant, you doing this. Being all domestic,” I tease. I swipe at the flour he has on his nose.

“Well, if domestic is what you want.” He looks around the bakery. “Point me in the direction of the broom and cleaning supplies. Just wait until you see how good I am at that.”

“Have you ever cleaned anything before?”

He’s silent for a minute, contemplating. “No, actually, I haven’t, but I can figure it out.”

I laugh, and he lowers his head to kiss me.

“Thank you for giving me a second chance. You’re way too good for me,” he whispers against my lips.

“I love you.” It’s all I have to say. It’s all he wants to hear. We may not be perfect, but we were made for each other. We put each other back together.

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