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“You’re maddening when you’re happy at my expense.”

“There are more elegant ways to get here, I promise. When the resort lobby is finished, there’s a grand hallway that’ll lead straight through and out the back of the building, to access the water side. But right now, it’s all under construction.”

When we reach the Seawall, we follow it around the corner of the building. There, what will obviously be a restaurant and a couple of commercial storefronts face the water. The sun is just starting to go down beyond Stanley Park to the west, and the dusk light gleams on the glass facades.

“This is going to be a wine bar,” Harlan says as we pass the first storefront.

“Nice. What a great location.” We pass the large restaurant in the middle. “What kind of restaurant will this be?”

“West coast fusion and seafood.”

“Yum. And what’s this one?” We reach the final storefront. It’s right on the corner, with an epic view of the mountains and Stanley Park.

“You’ll see,” he says, as he opens the door for me.

I step into the shop.

It’s been freshly painted a soft cream. It’s empty, except for some twinkly lights that have been strung around the room, giving it a romantic, fairy-tale glow. There are glass cases along the front counters, like you’d see in a café or deli.

Or a bakery.

“You know how sometimes the perfect thing is right under your nose, but you don’t see it?” Harlan says meaningfully, close behind me.

My nose is starting to tingle. I don’t dare dream that he’s about to say what I think he might be about to say, but my baking samples have been laid out on a single banquet table in the middle of the room. Presented beautifully, I can only imagine, by the resort staff.

I turn to him. “Are you talking about me?”

“Yes,” he says seriously. “But also…” He looks around. “Your dream bakery.”

“Harlan…”

“It’s perfect, right? I don’t think I understood until I walked in here how wrong that other space was for you. But I get it now.”

When I don’t respond, because I’m too overcome with emotion, he takes my hand again and starts showing me around.

“Picture it… The displays filled with your delicious creations. The tables arranged over here, with the velvet chairs you wanted…”

Oh, wow.He listened.

When I droned on and on about my bakery dream to him, describing what I envisioned, while we ate dinner one night, many weeks ago… He totally listened.

And it has a view of the water.

He leads me in a daze behind the counter and into the kitchen, which is three times the size of the tiny work space I had at Crave.

“The kitchen is fully installed. You just need to pick all the finishes. That’s the fun part, right?”

He watches as I turn in a slow circle, trying to take it all in. I have to blink away the moisture in my eyes to see straight.

“We can put in window seats, like you wanted. It’s really a blank slate. You can make it as beautiful as you envisioned. Your baby daddy might even throw in a generous decorating budget so you can make it extra pretty.”

When I’m still too blown away to respond, he asks, “What do you think?”

“I think when you say ‘baby daddy,’ it sounds extra ridiculous. And far too much like ‘sugar daddy’ for my liking.”

“About the bakery, Quinn,” he says, and squeezes my ass like it’s a warning that I’m being naughty.

“I think… it’s truly magical,” I admit, my voice all choked up.