Page 49 of Stuffed

I change into comfortable clothes, but sleep feels impossible. Instead, I curl up by my window, watching the snow fall and thinking about all the ways Zane Mercer has gotten under myskin. All the ways he challenges me, frustrates me, makes me feel more alive than anyone ever has.

The bakery's financial reports sit on my coffee table—the ones he helped me perfect. The ones that prove he believes in me professionally, even if he struggles to believe in us personally. I flip through them, remembering how focused he was, how he saw potential where others saw risk.

Maybe that's what love is—seeing potential. Seeing past the surface to what could be. Seeing someone for who they really are, even when they try to hide.

Another text comes through.

Zane

Still awake?

I consider ignoring it, making him sweat a little. But that's not who we are—who I want us to be.

Me

Yes.

Zane

I keep thinking about what you said. About genuine feelings. About fantasy becoming something real.

Me

And?

Zane

And you're right. I'm so used to looking for ulterior motives that I forget sometimes people just… care. That you just care.

Me

I more than care, Zane. That's what scares you, isn't it?

His response takes longer this time.

Zane

Everything about you scares me. How well you see me. How much I want you. How real this feels.

My heart races as I type.

Me

Being scared is okay. Pushing me away because you're scared isn't.

Zane

I know. I'm sorry.

Me

I know you are. But sorry isn't enough anymore. I need you to try. Really try.

Zane

What if I fail?

The vulnerability in those four words makes my chest ache.

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