Page 38 of Story Of My Heart

“Now, while we’re waiting for these to set,” I continue, “you’ll each take turns dipping the truffles in tempered chocolate. It’s all about timing—dip too soon, and your truffles will melt into the coating. Too late, and the coating might not stick.”

As the couples line up to dip their creations, I walk around, offering tips and encouragement. The atmosphere is light and playful, a stark contrast to the meticulous solitude of my usual chocolate making. Watching them laugh and tease each other, occasionally stealing a chocolate-dipped kiss, I’m reminded of why I fell in love with this craft in the first place. It’s not just about creating something beautiful and delicious—it’s about the shared experience, the joy it brings to others.

A particularly exuberant couple misjudges their dipping technique, leading to a splash of chocolate across the table. “It’s a new abstract art form,” I joke, helping them clean up while ensuring they’re still smiling. The room echoes with chuckles and chattering, the initial awkwardness dissolved in shared mishaps and triumphs.

As the couples diligently focus on their creations, a chuckle escapes me when I catch sight of Tate at the end of the table, clearly more interested in tasting the chocolate than making truffles. He pops another ‘misshapen’ truffle into his mouth, a guilty pleasure evident in his grin. When he catches my eye, he sheepishly points to a small smear of chocolate on his cheek, mimicking shock.

“Quality control,” he declares with mock seriousness. His light-hearted antics not only add to the warm ambiance but also draw a few more spectators to our workshop, including some reluctant partners who’d been mere observers until now. I give him a playful roll of my eyes but can’t hide my amusement. This unexpected side of him, playful and carefree, only deepens the connection I feel.

As the workshop winds down, each couple proudly inspects their handiwork. I stand back, watching the happy chaos, the room buzzing with laughter and chatter. It’s these moments—of connection, of joy, of chocolate-covered smiles—that remind me how much I love the simple joys of my favorite hobby.

“Thanks for being such a great group,” I say as they begin to pack up their truffles, each couple leaving with a box of their handmade sweets. “Remember, the key to great chocolate and great relationships is patience, care, and a lot of sweet moments.”

Their thanks and praises are heartwarming, and as they exit, the room feels larger, emptier but somehow filled with the residue of happy memories. I clean up the last of the supplies, a smile lingering on my lips. This, right here, is the sweet spot—where my passion meets purpose and brings joy, not just to me but to others. It’s a reminder of the beauty in sharing your gifts, in turning an everyday skill into a conduit for connection and joy.

“Wow, Piper, you really know how to put on a show,” Fallon says with a wide grin, her eyes sparkling despite the fatigue edging her voice. “I think every couple in Sunset Lake fell a little more in love today—thanks to you.”

Daisy nods in agreement, her gentle smile reflecting the soft lighting of the VFW hall. “You have a gift, Piper. It’s not just about the chocolate, you know? It’s about how you make people feel while they’re making it.”

Their kind words warm me, and I feel a rush of pride. “Thanks, you two. I couldn’t have pulled it off without your help. Let’s do this again sometime.”

“Definitely,” Daisy replies. “But next time, less chocolate splatter and more aprons.”

We all laugh, and after a few more pleasantries, they head out into the cool evening, leaving me to gather my things. I turn off the lights and lock the door behind me, the echo of laughter and chatter still bouncing off the walls in my mind.

Outside, Tate waits by the car, a thoughtful expression on his face. As I approach, he opens his arms for a quick, comforting hug. “You were amazing in there, Piper. Not just with the chocolate. You handled the crowd, made it fun, made it about more than just dessert. I learned a lot tonight—about chocolate, sure, but more about what people enjoy together. It’s good research for the new app.”

I chuckle, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “Glad I could help with your market research. So, this was work after all?”

“In a way,” he admits with a mischievous grin. “But mostly, it was about watching you do what you do best. You in your element? That’s the part I love most of all.”

The drive back is quiet, contemplative. The soft hum of the car blends with my thoughts, swirling around the future of Tate’s app and the depth of what we’ve shared. It’s been a night of laughter, learning, and a little bit of chocolate magic. As the lights of the resort appear in the distance, I realize that no matter what happens next, tonight was a reminder of why I do what I do, and who I want to be doing it for.

Chapter Nineteen

Tate

It’s been a week since we arrived in Sunset Lake, and they’ve been the seven longest days of my life. I don’t know whether to thank Oscar for insisting I come down here or wring his neck. I’ve spent more time with Fallon than I have in my entire life, Ledger is visibly less distressed with each passing day, I don’t think I can look at that bird again without being tempted to commit an act of unspeakable animal cruelty. But… things with Piper and I are the best they’ve ever been. I went from feeling like a man hiding in the top floor of a penthouse, hoarding his gold and his feelings, to a man surrounded by wine-buzzed strangers on a party boat, floating on a lake I swore I’d never look at again, let alone sail on, with the world’s sexiest, smartest, most fascinating woman on my arm the entire time.

She’s wearing the same dress as the last cruise, the long white jersey number with the plunging neckline that makes my mouth go dry and my heart stutter every time I look at it. This time last week, I would’ve been nervous as hell, not knowing where to put my hands or how close I should stand or whether or not she’d want me to bring her another glass of wine. But surrounded by all of these happy couples, I’m confident in both us as a unit and what we’ve managed to build in such a short time. The resort is working. The app is working. And Piper and I are working, whatever it is that we’re doing.

Supporting my point, Piper seems to be reading my mind, slipping a hand around my waist and leaning against my chest.

“It’s working.” She sips from her flute, letting the bubbles sit on her tongue before continuing. “Your app is going to kill it.”

“Well.” Out there among all of the happy faces is one that looks decidedly less than enthusiastic. Leaning against the rail, staring out along the surface of the lake with a soft and mournful scowl, is my sister. “There are still some outliers.”

She tilts her head to the side. “Meaning?”

“Look at Fallon.” I gesture toward her with my chin, trying not to point and draw anyone else’s attention toward the sad looking girl all by herself. I may not be the most socially conscious person, but even I’m aware of the optics. “I’ve tweaked this algorithm. I’ve tried to factor in everything.”

She should be happy. The algorithm keeps matching her with Leo. I keep putting her and Leo in the same place, over and over again. Yet they keep repelling each other, like two magnets of the same polarity. And I, like a naive child, keep trying to shove them closer and closer. It doesn’t make any sense. My sister doesn’t make any sense. She must be broken. We’re from the same gene pool. It’s not implausible.

“That’s impossible,” Piper scoffs with a laugh.

Impossible is not a word I like to hear. It certainly isn’t one I’ve let stop me before. “How so?”

Looking out across the crowd at my sister, Piper’s face softens, crossing her arms over her chest with a sigh. “How do you account for the human factor in your new algorithm?”

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