Page 40 of Win a Date with a Baker

“Twelve?”

“...Maybe.”

“You’ve been staring at the front door.”

“I haven’t.”

“You literally looked at it while denying it.”

I glance away.

“I wasn’t?—“

“You miss her.”

The words land squarely in my chest. I don’t answer. Mostly because I can’t.

Rachel nods once. “I thought so.”

I busy myself with rearranging a tray that doesn’t need rearranging. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve been saying that a lot lately.”

“I am.”

“You’ve made six batches of pastry cream this week.”

“So?”

“You’ve only needed three.”

“...Quality control.”

“You burned caramel yesterday.”

“I was distracted.”

“You’ve never burned caramel.”

“I said I was distracted.”

She waits.

Finally, I let the piping bag drop onto the counter. “I fucked up.”

“You did.” She doesn’t sound even a little surprised. “Why?”

So I tell her about the fight. When I finish, she just shakes her head.

“No.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you think this is about one stupid argument.” She reaches into the pocket of her apron and pulls out her phone. “But it’s not about that. “I wasn’t going to show you this.”

My stomach immediately knots.

“But I think you need to see it.”