Page 3 of Unwrapped

“Because you had the biggest crush on him in high school,” she teases, leaning forward. “Don’t even try to deny it, Ivy. You used to turn into a blushing mess whenever he was around.”

I roll my eyes. “That was years ago, Tess. And it wasn’twhenever he was around. It was one time that I got a little— And besides, he’s not exactly my type.” I focus my attention on rolling out the dough to the perfect thickness, then I grab my holiday cookie cutters and stamp out a dozen shapes.

“I too hate it when my crush is a six-three blue-eyed god that could make angels weep with his jawline.”

I roll my eyes, placing the cutouts onto the cookie sheet. “I’m just saying he’s very famous, out there on social media and celebrity events. He’s an extrovert to the fullest.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” she singsongs, but there’s a knowing smile on her face. “It’s just funny because I happened to connect with him on LinkedIn recently. And I was thinking… since we’re about to open a business, why not get some advice from a local expert?”

I nearly drop the cookie sheet. “What? No. Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on! They run one of the fastest-growing companies in the Midwest according toForbes. Plus, they’re both on the 30 Under 30 list of richest US bachelors. They could look over our business plan before we make an offer on that building.”

I pause, considering it. As much as the idea of seeing Asher again sends my nerves into overdrive, Tessa isn’t wrong. The Mercer brothers know what they’re doing. And if there’s even a chance they could help us, we’d be foolish not to take it.

I sigh. “Okay, fine. But you have to do the talking.”

“Ivy.” Her tone changes. “Stop saying shit like that. You know this business inside and out. Hell, it took me four years of college to learn what you’ve picked up from reading over contracts and talking to our lawyer.”

“You’re right. But still, I’ll let you take the reins since you’re the one who suggested it in the first place.”

Tessa grins and picks up her phone, typing out a message. My heart pounds as I watch her hit send, half hoping he won’t reply. But barely ten minutes later, her phone dings.

I freeze, my hand clutching a spoonful of batter.

“He says he’d love to meet! Tomorrow at three at their office. Oh shoot…” Tessa’s face falls as she glances at her calendar. “I totally forgot—I have that meeting with Suzette.”

I swallow hard, the realization sinking in. That meeting with the real estate agent is equally important. I resign myself to my fate, once again seeing Asher Mercer. “I’ll go. I promise, I can handle it.”

Tessa’s smile returns, bright and hopeful. “You’ve got this, Ivy. Besides, it’s just Asher.”

Just Asher. If only it were that simple.

My hands shakeas I smooth down another page in my planner, double-checking tomorrow's meeting time with Asher. The bakery numbers swim before my eyes - projected costs, revenue forecasts, everything Tessa insisted we have ready. But I can't focus.

I need to organize my thoughts, gather every scrap of documentation for our business plan. That's what leads me to the storage closet, searching for an old receipt box that might help prove our holiday sales history. Instead, my fingers brush against something else - a sturdy, fabric-covered book wedged between banker's boxes.

My heart stutters when I pull it out.

"Oh god," I whisper, sinking down onto my bedroom floor. The weight of my senior yearbook feels heavier than it should as I settle it in my lap. I haven't looked at this in years, but suddenly I'm seventeen again, pulse racing every time I passed him in the hallway.

I trace my fingers over the glossy cover, remembering how I used to flip through these pages during lunch breaks, pretending I was just killing time while secretly searching for glimpses of him. The spine cracks as I open it, and there he is.

Asher Mercer. Golden boy. The guy every girl wanted and every guy wanted to be.

He's grinning in his football photo, that same devastating smile he still has. But it's his candid shots that make my chest tight - Asher laughing with friends by his locker, Asher focused during a student council meeting, Asher giving his valedictorian speech. I was there that day, watching from the bleachers as he talked about dreams and futures. His voice had carriedacross the football field, making everyone believe anything was possible.

"Get it together, Ivy," I mutter, but I can't stop turning pages. There - a picture I'd almost forgotten. Advanced English, junior year. We were reading Macbeth, and Mr. Peterson had asked for volunteers to act out the dagger scene. Asher's hand had shot up immediately. He'd performed it with such intensity that the whole class sat mesmerized. Even Mr. Peterson looked impressed.

I'm in the background of that photo, half-hidden behind my textbook, but you can see I'm staring at him. God, was I always that obvious?

My fingers drift to the messages section at the back. Tessa's sprawling note takes up a whole page, full of inside jokes and promises to be best friends forever. But there, in the corner, is the one that still makes my stomach flip:

"Thanks for always having the best notes in English! Hope you have an awesome summer. - Asher"

Such a simple message. He probably wrote the same thing in twenty other yearbooks. But I remember how my hands trembled when he asked to sign mine, how I'd stayed up half the night analyzing those two sentences for hidden meaning.

"This is ridiculous," I say out loud, trying to snap myself out of it. I'm not that shy, awkward girl anymore. I'm successful, confident. I'm about to open my own bakery, for heaven's sake. Tomorrow, I'm meeting with Asher as a businesswoman, not some tongue-tied teenager with a crush.

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