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There’s a sympathetic pat to my hand with a regretful smile to add.

“To be honest, we need help in the kitchen with the baking. These old hands can’t handle much more.

And my husband, love him dearly, just doesn’t have it in him like he used to.

” She leans in with a whisper. “His cookies are starting to taste like cardboard.”

I softly chuckle and the defeat washing over me minutes ago, changes into a glimmer of hope. My eyes grow bigger with excitement. “I bake!” I bark out. A little too enthusiastically. “I bake and I’m really good at it,” I tell her confidently.

Shelby’s eyes flash with hope. “You do? That’s… well, I’ll have to put you through a small test first—”

“I’ll do it!” I proudly straighten in my seat. “You can put me through a test right now.”

Shelby glances between me and the back. “This is our slow time.” She gives it another thought before agreeing. “Let’s do it.” She claps her hands together, then leads us to the back.

She introduces me to her husband, Frank, then gives me a quick tour before they both leave me for my first test. Checking the ingredients, excitement overwhelms me. My test subject: chocolate ganache layer cake.

I grab all the stuff I need, throw on an apron, and start whipping up the best damn cake I have ever made.

This job, needed for obvious financial reasons, is also important to me. It would be the only thing to call mine. To take seriously. And it’s been too long since that feeling pulsed inside me.

A hum escapes, happiness washing over me. In this element, I’m content, reminding me just how long I’ve lacked joy.

It’s impressive how I still remember the recipes I used to bake with my dad. Not all, but there were a few still drilled into my memories.

After it’s done, I take out the cake, test it to be sure, then set it on the cooling rack.

There’s no chocolate ganache cake without frosting, so I get to work and start heating the heavy cream in a pan, gathering the dark chocolate.

After cooling, I frost the cake, rotating it steadily. I am in my zone. My element as an easy thrill rushes over me.

If only my father were here with me.

Jason hadn’t forbidden me to bake, but I always got the same lecture, ‘let the chefs handle it’.

“Goodness. It smells delicious!” Shelby walks over, standing next to me, and takes another whiff of air.

“Do you want to try a piece?”

“Cut me a nice sliver, dear.”

I grab a knife and make a pristine cut, placing it on a small plate. With shaky nerves, I wait for Shelby to take a bite. When a small moan escapes her, a huge smile widens on my face.

“That’s the best darn cake I’ve ever had. Gods' truth.” She takes another bite and then another before setting down her fork.

It takes everything in me not to jump for joy, but I remain professional. However, there’s no denying the pride I perceive inside.

“You’re hired. Welcome to the café.”

My breath catches in my throat. “Wow. Really? What about the other stuff?”

“Ah. We’ll take care of all that boring stuff later. We need a baker and you’re it, Missy. I am not letting you get away.”

I think… I’m about to cry. A tear slips down my cheek before another one follows.

“Honey. Why on Earth are you crying?” Shelby pats my arm to comfort me.

“I’m just… happy. This means so much. More than you’ll ever know. Thank you. Thank you so much for giving me this opportunity and taking a chance on a total stranger.”

She smiles. “I have a knack for guessing who’s a good person, and I’d say you are pure, child. You can start tomorrow morning. Six am sharp.” She nods with a smirk.

“I’ll be here.” I hug her, catching her off guard, but after a second of hesitation, she hugs me back.

“I should be thanking you.” She squeezes me one last time before letting go. “I must get back to work. But I’ll see you bright and early.”

“I can’t wait,” I tell her, waving to both her and her husband on the way out.

This woman trusted a stranger and the overwhelming emotion makes me want to cry again.

I won’t let her down. But there’s one person who I wish I can share the news with… my dad. If only.

My smile, the entire way back to Lana’s duplex, never fades even if I tried forcing it away. To finally have something to call my own feels too good. Something for me and no one else. It’s overwhelmingly amazing.

I can do this—this new life. I want it so badly.

Logan’s truck is in the driveway when I return. I’m wondering if it’s a slow night at work considering he’s home.

There’s a note on the fridge from Lana saying she and Mark went out to dinner and not to wait up.

I want to talk to her about Mark, but maybe this is my sign to wait.

One more strike and I’ll be sure to tell her about the bad feeling he gives off.

But come to think of it, it’s hypocritical of me considering who I’m married to.

Even if I hadn’t had a say in the matter.

I keep the message short and sweet as I send a quick text to Lana about how Shelby hired me and how crazy it is I’ll be starting first thing in the morning.

Lana would be the first one I’d call, the only friend I had to share good news with, but I don’t want to intrude on her date.

She does, however, respond immediately and I think that can’t be good.

After reading the bazillion congrats emojis, I hope her night isn’t a complete snooze fest.

With a glass of wine, and softly playing music, I change into a comfy lounge set which has more material than last night’s outfit choice. My cheeks still burn, recalling Logan catching sight of me. To be honest, I didn’t exactly hate the way his stare burned my skin.

I swirl the blood red liquid before taking a sip. My heart’s warmer than it has been, and it’s only the second day.

Here’s to a new start.

Cheers, I guess.

I snag a blanket from the basket by the couch and slip out onto the balcony. The chairs aren’t the comfiest, but I don’t want to complain. Lana opened her home to me and for that, I am grateful.

The cozy material molds my body as I peer out at the lake and mountains that line the horizon.

With the moon reflecting the water, it’s a peace I’ve never experienced.

Living in the trailer park growing up, we never had this view.

And living with Jason, well, that was an entirely different experience.

Suffocation with a side of misery. The only view I had was the gardens closed off by an enormous privacy fence. It was more like a prison.

The door next to me slides open and Logan’s towering body fills the space.

Even though we’re outside, it seems smaller somehow.

We only have a piece of metal railing separating us and the unknown tension we share is immediate.

Is it awkward tension? Angry. Dare I say, sexual.

Because there’s zero chance at him feeling that way and I curse myself for thinking insanities.

I straighten my chair, pulling the blanket a little closer. I’m afraid to look over, but I can’t miss Logan sitting with his big thighs and long legs propped on the balcony railings in front of him. He’s got strong thighs. Hell, his whole body looks strong.

I decide to glance over and he’s wearing the same backward hat and a plain T-shirt with sweatpants. Jason never wore sweatpants. I suppose he’s too rich for them and he’d never wear something so casual. It was always a suit.

Ah, man. Logan in sweatpants is… wow.

He meets my eyes, beer in hand, and my cheeks flush as he caught me staring. An intense wave of heat melts my insides.

He throws me a casual nod. “Sora.”

“Logan.”

Jacks Mannequin plays softly from my phone, filling the voided silence. I will say, it’s an oddly comfortable silence and not at all awkward.

We continue to sit there without saying a word. A slight breeze picks up and I catch a whiff of spearmint this time.

It’s tantalizing.

We finish our drinks; he beats me to a stand, and I casually peek over as he’s opening his sliding door.

But before he ducks inside, he pauses. “Your brownies were delicious.” His voice is velvety and masculine.

I smile smugly as Logan disappears behind the glass.

New life, here I come.