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Chapter thirty-five

Naomi

“Ah! Look how adorable it is!” I gush, grabbing Robbie’s forearm. My mouth gapes open, and my head feels fuzzy as I spin in a slow circle, examining every square inch of the retail space. My mind races with possibilities and ways I could make this my own.

Although I did frequent this space often when the last owner was running her bakery here, the inside looks vastly different with everything cleared out. I’ve also never looked at it with fresh, hopeful eyes before—as if it could actually, potentially be mine.

“The lease amount does include the existing appliances, sales counter, and display case,” Joan, our local realtor, explains, pointing the tip of her pen toward each area.

“So, I would need to furnish the interior,” I process out loud, noting the empty space reserved for indoor dining.

Not to mention it needs a fresh coat of paint and a few pieces of commercial baking equipment that weren’t on the listing.

We could maybe even remove the far wall completely to make the space more open if I got really ambitious.

“That’s correct,” she answers before leading us through double doors into the kitchen area.

The perimeter of the room is lined with multiple ovens, a large sink, and floor-to-ceiling cooling racks.

A large rectangular stainless-steel island sits in the middle of the room, absolutely ideal for prepping scones, rolling dough, and decorating cakes.

It’s perfect—anything I could possibly dream up to bake can be done within these four walls.

I imagine an alternate reality where the racks are filled with baking sheets of freshly baked goods ready to be boxed, and the smell of dough and sugar hangs heavily in the air.

It’s calm and quiet back here, but the bustle from the front of the store can still be heard in spurts through the swinging double doors.

“I can see it, Robbie,” I whisper as I keep close behind him, gripping the back of his T-shirt with my fists as we follow Joan back to the front of the store. “I can envision it all.”

The smile on his face is only half-visible as he reaches a hand behind him to squeeze my side with a firm grip. I stifle my squeal, burying my face in his back. The excitement is almost too much. What if this could actually be mine someday? Do I dare dream this big?

“That’s the gist of it. Do you have any questions for me?” Joan asks, pausing when we reach the front door.

“Yes, how much interest have you had in this space?” Robbie has the business sense to ask. Good thing, because all I can think about is what I would bake first in that kitchen—a cinnamon-streusel coffee cake. Or maybe a chocolate drip cake.

“Well, it’s been sitting vacant for a few months, as I’m sure you know. But with full disclosure, you’re not the only people I’ve shown the space to this week,” Joan says.

“Oh, really?” My stomach drops, the fate of having a storefront bakery hanging in the balance.

I’ve never been so close to this particular part of my dream before.

One where I get to bake for the familiar faces of Pine Falls that will come and go through that door every single day.

For the people who stop in on a whim just to say hi and grab a donut to enjoy while they run the rest of their Main Street errands.

Or the ones who have turned into regular clientele, placing orders in advance and stopping in at their convenience to pick it up.

Who believe in me and support me as one of their own, because I’ve always supported them.

I feel it just within grasp, yet it could so easily slip away in an instant.

“I won’t disclose personal information, but yes, there’s another potentially interested party—an out-of-towner who wants to turn the space into an ax-throwing bar.”

“No way.” Robbie chuckles, giving me a sidelong glance. “That’s actually pretty cool.”

I give him a sad but agreeable smile before shaking Joan’s hand. “Okay, thank you. Keep me posted if anything happens with that. I’ll crunch some numbers and be in touch.”

“You bet. Enjoy your day.” She waves and stays back to lock up as Robbie and I step outside onto the sidewalk.

“What do you think?” Robbie asks once we’re out of earshot. He intertwines his fingers with mine as I fall into step with him. We stroll leisurely along the sidewalk, waving to Mrs. Fitzpatrick from the other side of the street when she pokes her head out of the antique store.

“I think I’m scared to love it,” I reply truthfully.

“What do you mean?” He smirks.

“I love everything about that space—I really do. And I would absolutely love to make it my own. I can perfectly envision what it would be like to operate my business from there. But I’m nervous to take the plunge, especially so soon after quitting my full-time job.

The financial risk scares me a little bit,” I admit.

“It is a big step,” he agrees.

“But oh my gosh, did you see the floor?” I gush, tugging on his arm. “There’s something about diagonal pastel-pink tile…it just speaks to me.”

“I can help,” he offers quietly, coming to a stop in front of the ice cream parlor.

“What?” I twist, halting in front of him. Surely I didn’t hear him correctly.

“I would love to contribute to the rent,” he says again. “If you’ll let me and are okay with it, that is.”

“You have money?”

“Firstly, that’s offensive.” He smirks.

“You know what I mean.”

“Second. Yes, I would love to. I mean, I do get paid for shows, you know. I don’t pay a mortgage or rent…so I’ve got quite a bit saved up.”

“And you’d do that?” Emotion prickles at the corners of my eyes as I stare blankly back at him, my brain not quite able to accept the depth of what he’s offering.

“Of course. To be honest, I’ve really enjoyed the whole business side of your operation, and I already feel invested.” He shrugs. “I’ve been looking for more direction in my life. I think this is it…the path I want to take. You are my path, Naomi. So are your dreams.”

Although my mind is racing a million miles per minute, it takes absolutely no amount of thought to grin wildly at him. I shake my head in amazement, feeling adrenaline rush through me.

“You’re amazing. Do you know that?” I gush.

“I’ve been told a few times.” He shrugs me off.

Would signing a lease together be risky? Probably. Would any decent business advisor condemn going into business with a new romantic partner? I can imagine. But do I trust him? With my life.

And that’s always been good enough for me.

“Okay,” I agree with a quick nod.

“Yeah?” He extends his arms out, which I immediately—and eagerly—jump into. I wrap my legs around his waist and squeeze his neck tightly with a grin plastered on my face so big that my cheeks actually hurt. His hands grip my thighs, holding me up and securely to him.

“Yeah,” I whisper against his ear.

A squeal flies out of my mouth when he twirls me around suddenly—without a care in the world that we’re in the middle of town, vulnerable to prying eyes.

“You don’t think you’ll regret going into business together?” I ask just to be sure.

“Nope,” he says firmly, giving me nothing else.

“Okay,” I say again, searching his face for any sign of doubt.

“Let’s do it, then.” He places a quick kiss to my lips, grinning back at me. I can’t help but squeeze his neck tighter, planting another kiss to his lips and then one to the center of his forehead.

Then he nonchalantly starts walking—with me still in his arms—down the sidewalk.

I laugh out loud at how we must look to onlookers.

Heaven knows this kind of PDA sparks a lot of chatter on these streets.

The worried thought leaves as quickly as it came, and I hang on tightly, relishing the possibilities that were just opened up for my life.

And for our life together.