Page 98 of Maxim

The woman nods. “Of course. I just put some fresh slices in the display and I have some coming out of the oven in about ten minutes. How much would you like?”,

“All of it.”

Her eyes widen. “A-all of it?”

“All of it,” I confirm.

“Yes, sir. Would you like anything else?”

“Do you have any pumpkin bread? Or anything like it?”

The woman winces. “No pumpkin on hand, but we could make it for a special order. As for anything else, I have apple cinnamon bread and a lemon one as well.”

“I’ll take all of that as well, please,” I tack on like an afterthought.

“Are you sure? That’s going to be a lot.”

“I am, and if you don’t mind, go ahead and charge me for two loaves of the pumpkin if you can have it to me this week.”

“Hey, not only can I have it to you this week, I’ll have it delivered to your doorstep if you want.”

“Deliveries are an option?”

“Yep. Only Monday through Friday, though.”

“Then go ahead and add some more banana, and maybe some lemon if possible, to be delivered at the same time,” I tell her as I pull out my card.

“Man, you’re about to make someone’s day. Well, someone other than me, I mean,” she says as she starts to bag everything up.

“I hope so. You own this place?”

“I do.” She wipes off her hands on her apron. “Hi, I’m Holly, consider me your bread dealer.”

“Hi, Holly, it’s nice to meet you. You are going to make my woman incredibly happy.”

Her eyes dance with humor. “I aim to please. Now let me get you rung up before the oven goes off.”

The door opens. I look up and smile at Maxim as he comes in.

“Hey, I thought you would be gone longer,” I tell him as I finish the dishes.

He raises a brow. “Would you like me to leave again?”

“Of course not.” I dry my hands, rushing to him.

I crash into him as I hug him tightly. I never feel totally okay unless I’m in his arms.

Earlier he asked if I was okay with him leaving for two hours or so. As much as I hated the thought of being here alone, I said yes. I don’t need him by my side the whole time, but when I’m alone, I struggle to keep my mind off of him. That usually ends up with me worrying.

“Good.” He kisses me on the top of the head. “Now I need you to get ready.”

He pulls back from me, turning me toward the room.

“Ready? Did I forget something?” I ask as I let him push me into our room.

“No, this is a surprise,” he informs me.

“A surprise?”