Page 43 of Win a Date with a Baker

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. I just...” She glances around the bakery. “I …wanted to be here. It feels like… home.”

That somehow makes me feel even worse.

“I’ve got something to show you before we get started.”

Her eyebrows knit together. “You do?”

I nod. “Close your eyes.”

She studies me for a moment before finally closing them.

“No peeking.”

“I make no promises.”

I disappear into the kitchen. They’re exactly where I hid them. I made it after everyone left last night.

One hundred mini brioche donuts. Each one painstakingly piped with a single letter.

I’d nearly sprained my wrist. I push the cart of trays back to the workbench.

“Okay. Open them.”

She opens one eye.

She opens her eyes. Her mouth falls open. The donuts are arranged in neat rows. Each tiny donut bears a single piped letter.

Together they read:

I FORGOTWHY YOUCAME BACK TO THE SHOP

She doesn’t speak.

I swallow.

“I’ve got more.”

I lift another tray.

YOU LOVEDTHE BAKERYBEFORE YOU

Another tray.

EVER LOVED

ME

She presses a hand over her mouth.

“I know they’re not perfectly straight,” I say. “I had a lot to pipe.”

She laughs through suspiciously shiny eyes. “They’re beautiful.”

“No.” I shake my head. “You are. At least, you’re perfect for me.”

I take a slow breath. “I’ve spent years thinking I knew exactly what I was protecting.”