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Chapter forty

Robbie

“I found them!” I yell from Naomi’s office, where I grab a box of logo stickers that she has stacked on the desk.

“Great!” her muffled voice replies from the kitchen.

Box in tow under my arm, I skirt around her desk, and my eye catches on the organizational system she has hanging on her wall.

Our practice sessions are still scheduled on the whiteboard calendar from a few weeks ago, and her life goals list is pinned to the top of the board, along with several variations of mantras that both she and I have written out and pinned up.

Right in the middle of the board is a sticky note that says I am a confident businesswoman and another one that says I am deserving of boundaries.

All of it makes me smile, a clear reminder of how far she’s come in the last few months. Pride blooms in my chest, for both her and me. For the place we’re both at in our lives and for the way we’ve come together, despite everything that was working against us.

With a gratified sigh, I shift the box under my arm and head out of the office.

“Ta-da!” Naomi exclaims as I cross the living room toward the kitchen. Her arms are outstretched, proudly showcasing her latest creation. “A peanut butter chocolate layer cake.”

The sight of her in her element, flour dusted and smeared with chocolate icing, with a very specific glow that permeates from her only when she’s baking, has my stomach doing an insanely wild flip. I truly love watching her bake and know without a doubt that it will never get old.

“That is incredible,” I tell her. “I don’t suppose you made an extra mini one for me, huh?”

“Not this time.” She laughs, grabbing the box from under my arm. I help her slide the cake into one of her bakery boxes, and then she grabs a logo sticker to place on the top.

“That’s it for the night, right?” I ask, helping set dishes into the sink.

“Yup.” She runs her hands along her apron, brushing off any extra flour still left on her hands.

“Do you want to listen to the rain with me?” I ask, gesturing toward the couch. “We can leave the dishes for later.”

A sudden anticipation buzzes across my skin at the mere thought of spending hours on the couch with her wrapped in my arms. It might seem miniscule or boring to some, but it’s an experience I want so badly I can hardly breathe right.

“Sure,” she says softly as her gaze lingers on mine, most likely seeing whatever intensity is inadvertently being projected in my stare.

Without another word, I help by placing the rest of the dishes in the sink for later, then we set the cake off to the side next to the other orders she fulfilled today.

When the kitchen is decent enough, I pour some tequila into two tumblers and follow her to the living room.

She sets our glasses on the coffee table while I grab a log to start a fire in the fireplace. Once it’s roaring to life, I move to lie on the couch while she waits patiently, neither of us having said a word in quiet anticipation.

I shift onto my side, pressing my back against the cushions as far as I can to make room for her.

My heart skips a beat as she lowers in front of me, comfortably adjusting herself until her back is flat against my chest, her head resting on the crook of my shoulder.

I love how she molds herself easily against me, right where she belongs.

I slide my arm around her, finding her hand and wrapping my fingers between hers.

The rain patters against the window behind us in a rhythmic way, lulling us into a quiet trance as we lie quietly, watching the fire. There’s not a doubt in my mind that I could stay just like this for the rest of my life and still crave it.

“What are you thinking about?” she whispers, her voice cutting through the silence.

“That peanut butter chocolate cake you made,” I say simply, eliciting a smile out of her. “You?”

“I’m wondering how we first determined there was a consciousness and a subconsciousness,” she says quietly yet matter-of-factly, as if these sorts of thoughts are commonplace for her.

I bust out a laugh. “Are you serious?”

She nods, her hair tickling my chin as she does. “You know I have no control over this. It’s just the way my brain is.”

I squeeze her tighter, my stomach flipping with affection for her and her whimsical mind. We fall quiet again, my mind drifting to the life rules list hanging on the wall of her office and everything she accomplished with Operation Make Naomi a Boss.

I can’t help but whisper the same question I’ve asked her countless times now, “Name something you want out of life, Naomi.”

A charged moment passes between us before she quietly whispers, “You.”

The same thing she said not too long ago out on that tree swing the moment we acknowledged the start of our genuine feelings toward each other.

An ache in the center of my chest pulls tight as a low hum buzzes in my stomach.

I can’t think of any response that would fully convey how happy her response makes me, so I just squeeze her as tight as I can until she eventually giggles, scrambling to be freed from my grip.

Her phone notification brings us back to reality, out of the bliss-filled fog we were just lost in, and she reaches an arm over to where her phone sits on the coffee table. She gasps when she reads what’s there.

“Oh! It’s an email from Joan!” she squeals.

“What does it say?” I shift to sit up, allowing her to prop on her elbows as her eyes scan the screen back and forth, hastily reading the email.

“It’s ours!” she shrieks. “The building is ours! The owners have agreed to our terms! Joan is writing up a lease agreement as we speak.”

“No way!” I hold a palm up for a high five as she drops the phone, looking at me with doe eyes that water at the edges.

“It’s really happening,” she breathes, her voice cracking.

“Congratulations to you.” I reach for our tequila glasses and hand her one of them so we can make a toast.

“To you as well, part-owner.” She takes hers and clinks it with mine.

I take a sip, feeling the tequila burn, letting it swirl with all the ooey-gooey feelings that are already inside me.

“She says once we sign the lease, we can have the keys as soon as next week.”

“You know what this means,” I tell her seriously.

“What?”

“That it’s time for a ‘bakery goals/rules/boundaries to live by’ meeting.”

She grins. “I’m already looking forward to it.”

“Don’t think I’ll go easy on you either.” I smirk. “The list is going to go right on the wall in the bakery office. Maybe I’ll even make it three times the normal size.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She beams at me.

I smile lazily back at her, patting the space on the couch in front of me.

She twists around and scooches back, this time in a seated position between my legs, until she’s once again settled comfortably in my arms. I rest my drink against my thigh, my other arm wrapped around the top of her shoulders.

She leans her head back, sinking into me as she relaxes against my arm. I get lost in the crackling of the fire and musing over this new business adventure with her—and of everything that’s yet to come for us.

My heart feels simultaneously like it could fly out of my chest at any moment or possibly explode altogether.

The reality of what this feeling is sits at the tip of my tongue, and for a moment I feel ready to voice it out loud.

But I hold it back, not wanting to take away from this moment for her. Not wanting to overshadow it.

However, that doesn’t mean the feeling doesn’t surge through me, and the reality of it has me feeling more content—and gratified—with each passing second.