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Chapter forty-two

Naomi

“Keep your eyes closed,” Robbie says somewhere close to my ear from behind me.

“Your hands are covering my entire face,” I point out the obvious.

“You can never be too sure. Take a wide step forward.” A bell trills above me as I take what I’m assuming is a big step through the doorway.

I already know we’re at the bakery since we parked out front, but for some reason, he’s insisting on leading me inside without looking.

“Can I open them now?” I’m always eager to take in every last detail of the space when we come and today is no different.

“Not yet.”

I take a few more blind steps until he says, “Okay. Right here. You can open them.”

My eyes fly open the second he takes his hands away. I gasp, my mouth dropping open in surprise.

“Robbie,” I breathe, looking around at what he set up.

There’s a blanket spread out in the middle of the empty floor with a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket in the center and two flutes standing next to it.

A charcuterie tray is resting on the corner patch of the blanket, filled with crackers, cheese slices, an assortment of nuts, and grapes on the vine.

There are also dimly lit tealight candles spread out on the countertop by the register—dozens of them.

“When did you do all this?”

“This morning when you were in your baking zone. You didn’t even hear me sneak out, did you?” He places his hands on his hips, clearly proud of his efforts.

“Nope.” I shake my head. “I assumed you were in the office, updating our mantra board.”

He chuckles, offering me a wink. “I did that yesterday.”

I walk around the blanket, tracing my fingers along the edge of the counter where the tealights are flickering.

“Come on, let’s eat. We have some celebrating to do,” he says, pointing to the floor.

I lower down to sit on one corner, smiling at the effort he made with the board. The crackers look as if they’ve been tossed haphazardly out of the package, and the cheese squares are still firmly pressed in stacks, but it’s the thought that counts…and it couldn’t be more perfect to me.

“Thank you for this,” I tell him.

He nods, pushing his lips together in a modest smile. “Of course.”

As I reach for a cracker, Robbie’s phone sings from inside his pocket.

“Uh-oh. Apparently, we’re the talk of the town,” he says with a chuckle, setting his phone face down on the blanket.

“That should really surprise me more than it does,” I snicker. “But tell me why.”

“I just got a message from Steven. He said word got out that you and I were—quote, unquote—obnoxiously twirling down Main Street and being indecent on the park bench.”

I choke on my cracker, coughing at the absurdity.

“Hey, it’s alright.” He grins. “I’ll take that reputation and wear it with pride.”

I giggle, popping a slice of cheese in my mouth before growing serious. “So, Steven, huh?”

“Yeah.” He looks down, brushing crumbs off his jeans. “We’ve been messaging here and there. Texting has been an easy first step for us. Although, we’ve talked about maybe meeting up again sometime soon. We’ll see.”

“Still nothing with your parents?”

“Not yet. Steven tells me they’re respecting my space but that they are ready and eager whenever I want to reach out.” He shrugs. “I’m not in a hurry. I know I’ll get there eventually.”

I nod, reaching over to squeeze his ankle in a show of support. I’m along for the ride as far as his relationship with his family goes, content to follow his lead. And I’m immensely proud of the steps he’s already taken.

“Champagne?” he asks.

“So fancy. Yes, please.”

Robbie opens the champagne bottle with a pop, then he pours us each a glass.

“Cheers to starting this new adventure together,” he says, clinking his glass with mine.

“Cheers.” My grin grows wide before I take a sip. “Gosh, Robbie, just imagine the possibilities of this place…think of what we can make it.”

“We can make it anything you want.”

I can feel his eyes burning into me as I look around the nearly empty building.

I imagine it filled to the brim with townspeople on Sunday mornings, all clamoring to get donuts that are fresh from the oven.

And I can envision a cake catalog with fingerprints smudged on the laminated pages from all the children choosing the perfect birthday cake.

Not to mention a chalkboard sign that sits on the counter, displaying the muffin of the week selection in Robbie’s honor, of course.

I can see it.

A future here filled with all the things I love the most—baked goods, the hustle of running a business, and interacting with townspeople every day. All of it with Robbie by my side, whom I love the most out of them all.

“I’m excited to do this with you,” I tell him, to which he gives me a bashful smile.

“Not as excited as I am.” He shakes his head.

“Did you ever get in touch with George?” I ask, referencing the contractor we hired to make a few minor changes to the space before we open to the public.

“Yes. He said he’ll meet with us next week sometime to solidify a plan, and then we can move forward with getting permission from the owner and the city to do some renovations. I’ll make sure to schedule it when I’m back from my gig.”

“Perfect.”

“Will you dance with me?” he spits out abruptly, out of nowhere, as if he’s been holding the question back for some time.

I choke out a laugh. “Here?”

“Yeah.” He nods.

“But there’s no music,” I point out.

“Oh, you have such little faith.” He stands, fiddling with his phone until a slow song starts playing from it. “Easy as that.”

He offers a hand to help me up. His strong arm pulls me into him, and I bring my arms around his neck, the warmth of his hands radiating on my hips through the thin fabric of my dress.

His closeness is dizzying, the smell of him all-encompassing. We sway gently with the music, his touch making me feel a myriad of things. Safe. Secure. Buzzed. Delicate.

He dips his head to tuck it into my neck and I squeeze myself closer to him, not able to get enough of how I feel when I’m in his arms like this.

I glance around the space, at the countertops where the display cases will go, and at the walls that we’re planning to have painted. And then, when we sway in a circle, I take note of the office where Robbie will do his office manager duties and where our future employees will take their breaks.

A wave of gratitude hits me that not only am I living my dream, but I’m so unbelievably giddy to be doing it with the man of my dreams by my side—who, as it turns out, has been right in front of me all along.

“Tell me something, Naomi Tillman. How does it feel?” he murmurs, his voice vibrating against the skin of my shoulder.

“What’s that?”

He lifts his head up, hanging it low to hover right above me. Then his mouth tilts in a mischievous smirk.

“Officially becoming a boss?”