Page 47 of You Cake My Breath Away

Chewing on my lip, I stifle a smile she can’t see. “Something about cheesecakes.”

She growls, and I swear a swarm of butterflies fills my chest. “Should I make sticky toffee or cheesecake?”

I run a hand along my beard and try to squeeze the stupid grin off my face.

“Hmm…sticky toffee for sure,” I reply.

I want to ask her to dinner, but I know we’re not there yet. I haven’t proved I’m worthy of being her friend, let alone anything more. I’m no stranger to having to prove myself—a carpenter’s success relies on his work and word of mouth—but when you’ve spent so many years pushing someone away, making sure they don’t get close enough to see the pain in your eyes, it’s a chasm too daunting to cross.

While Tilly seems to have forgiven me for some of my actions, it’s not as easy to forgive myself. I want to be the type of man that deserves her love. Someone she wants to be around because she enjoys my company,not because she feels obligated. The fear of being a burden to her—like I am to my parents—makes my throat burn.

“Oh crap. I’ve gotta run to the store before it closes, but I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asks.

“I’ll be there.”

We hang up, and I rest my hands on my stomach and sink into the couch cushions. There’s a part of me that wonders if she’s forgiven me because I’m helping with her bakery and she’s just thankful, or if it’s because she feels what’s been brewing between us—what was there so many years ago left unkindled.

Chapter twenty-four

Tilly

An assortment of desserts from every country I’ve ever wanted to visit fills the kitchen island. There’s Polvorones, a Spanish shortbread cookie, a play on an English sticky toffee pudding with a hazelnut cinnamon chip sponge cake, and a Boston cream style cake with a caramel glaze inside.

Baking is an art. The way you knead dough out for breads, or how you must serve the souffle at the precise time so the air that is whipped into the egg whites doesn’t cool too quick or risk it crumpling in on itself.

I stare at the desserts I stayed up all night baking, and a sense of pride I haven’t felt in a long time…well, almost ever, rises inside my chest. These treats show I have what it takes to run my own bakery. My mind is filled with more unique flavor profiles and extravagant cakes, and given the opportunity, I think I can wow this town.

I gather the supplies I need to work at the bakery, I head out into the brisk November air. Thanksgiving is two weeks away, and my grand opening date inches closer.

“Hey Dad,” I say, walking in through the front door. I texted to let him know I’d be dropping off some new desserts today. He’s sitting at a booth looking through schedules.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He stares at my work boots and denim jeans. “You’re dressed differently.”

Worry takes root in my chest. With everything going on lately I haven’t had the time to tell him about the bakery Jessie bought for me.

“Uhh…yeah,” I start. “About that.”

His bushy gray eyebrows bunch. “What’s going on?”

Sweat beads my palms as I slide into the booth. Better to rip off the band-aid quickly.

“Jessie rented me a bakery location…” I clear my throat, stifling the emotions threatening to arise. “Before he passed.”

Dad’s lips part like he wants to say something, but I know if I don’t tell him everything before the tears start, I may not be able to finish.

“Archer and I have been working to get it ready for the grand opening in December.” His eyes widen when I mention working with Archer, but he doesn’t interrupt. For the first time since my mom passed, I feel the bridge between us shrinking. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

He reaches for my hand with a smile on his face but when I don’t immediately reach out, he slowly brings it back to fold his hands on the table. Because I’ve gone so long without touch, I’m still wary of allowing even little touches. The synapses in my brain seem to fire off at random times as they reconnect to my heart.

“That’s amazing, sweetheart,” he says when I’m finished and out of breath. “You’ve always wanted your own spot, and I know I’ve limited you by what you can sell here, but I’m glad you’ll be able to spread your wings.”

“I’ll still supply your restaurants with sweet treats.”

“No way. It’s time to follow your own dreams.”

I smile. “Thanks, Dad. We’ll see how we do after opening.”

“If you need anything you’ll let me know, right?”

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