Page 13 of Forbidden to Fall

“Suits me just fine.” With a smile, I turned and made my way to my car.

Once in the driver seat, I glanced up at the Carver house one more time, wondering if I’d see James again before he left. The fact that he’d gone out of his way to not answer the door when I’d knocked meant the answer was probably no.

Which was probably for the best—and why I was only a little disappointed.

The next day, Mrs. Keller reminded me that the mayor’s 50th birthday party was right around the corner. The mayor’s secretary had hired Keller’s Bakehouse to provide the desserts. This was one of the few times in memory that Mrs. Keller had agreed to make something outside of the usual menu, two proms being the other instances. There would be a few of Wade’s high school students helping out with the serving, so aside from making the actual food, I wouldn’t have to do much beyond supervising.

But making the dessert wasn’t nothing. It meant less time to work on my project with May, and I was starting to realize how compressed our schedule was if we wanted to be ready for the peak of leaf-peeping visitors.

I was alone behind the counter near the end of my shift when the door chimes jingled.

I glanced up from wiping down the register and grinned. “I’d been wondering when I’d see you, little miss!”

“Aunt Sadie!” My niece Mia broke her hand from Ryan’s and came running to the back of the bakery. I set down my rag and met her at the break in the counter, scooping her into my arms and twirling her around once—our sacred tradition.

She squeezed me tightly and laughed while I inhaled the strawberry shampoo scent of her blonde curls.

She pulled back to look at me, a suspicious streak of chocolate at the edge of her grin.

“I was worried you weren’t coming,” I said.

“Sorry,” Ryan said. “Lily’s mom called, and she wanted to talk to Mia.”

“Well, who could blame her for that?” I tickled Mia, and she wriggled and giggled until I put her down. She ran behind the counter and began looking into the display.

Mrs. Keller was a stickler about not letting non-employees behind the counter, but she couldn’t resist Mia.

“How you doin’?” Ryan asked.

“Good,” I said. “Just finishing up for the day before—” My heart clenched. I couldn’t say before I head to Carver Farm. “Before I head out,” I finished lamely.

He didn’t notice; he was watching Mia.

Ryan was three years older than I was. His hair was the lightest of the family—light brown in the winter but sun-kissed in the summer. He’d always been handsome, fun, and well-liked, which was probably why he’d ended up with Lily. They’d gone all in on the football star and head cheerleader cliché. They’d been on again, off again for a long time, but ultimately—despite all the drama James had caused—they’d ended up together. I was glad they had; Lily was sweet and fun.

One of the times they’d broken up, Ryan had shown up at Lily’s cheerleading competition just to clap for her. He hadn’t even stayed to talk; he’d just wanted to support her, even amidst their disagreement.

They’d been like that—not knowing quite how to make it work, but unable to truly walk away. The one positive outcome of what had happened with James all those years ago was that it had jarred them both into realizing what was at stake.

They’d been rock solid ever since.

Ryan smiled as he watched his daughter, leaning his arm on the top of the display. “This is the best part of her week.”

“Mine too.”

I’d have to meticulously wipe down the fingerprint smudges she was tracking all over the display case, but visits from Mia were my favorite—and Mrs. Keller’s too.

“She’s obsessed with you,” Ryan said.

“I’m more obsessed with her.”

Ryan smiled and met my gaze. “Thanks for being so good to her, Sade.”

I swallowed the little bubble of emotion in my throat. “Thanks for giving me the cutest niece in the world. You want that muffin, Mimi?”

She had paused, her nose pressed against the glass until she looked like a pig. Eyes wide with desire, she nodded.

“Well, it’s too bad you can’t have that one,” I said with an apologetic grimace.