Page 82 of Knot Happening

I take the chocolate, and our fingers brush as she hands it to me. The contact sends electricity shooting up my arm, and from the way her breath catches, I know she feels it too.

The chocolate is rich and complex, with exactly the vanilla undertones she described, but I'm more interested in watching her face as she tastes each sample. Belle approaches chocolate the way she approaches with complete focus and genuine appreciation for craftsmanship.

"What do you think?" Claire asks after we've worked through the entire tasting.

"I think I've been missing out on something incredible," I say honestly. "I always thought chocolate was just... sweet. I didn't realize how complex it could be."

"Most people don't," Belle says. "That's why I have such strong opinions about it. When something brings that much pleasure, it deserves to be appreciated properly."

"And what's your verdict on this selection?" I ask her.

"The Madagascar is beautiful, but I think the Ecuador has the most interesting flavor profile. It's bold without being overwhelming, sophisticated but still accessible."

"Excellent choice," Claire says. "That's exactly what we'll use for your truffles. Now, let's talk about flavor pairings..."

The next hour passes in a blur of melting chocolate, whisking ganache, and Belle getting increasingly animated as she discusses the merits of different flavor combinations. She suggests lavender and honey, I vote for sea salt and caramel, and we eventually compromise on a selection that includes both plus a few more experimental options.

"You're a natural at this," Belle says, watching me pipe ganache into molds with the same precision I'd use for architectural drafting.

"It's not so different from design work," I tell her. "Attention to detail, understanding how different elements work together, creating something that's both functional and beautiful."

"Is that how you approach everything? Like it's a design problem to be solved?"

I consider this while I finish the current truffle. "I used to. Everything in my life was planned, optimized, designed for maximum efficiency and minimal mess."

"Used to?"

"Before I met you," I say, setting down the piping bag and turning to face her fully. "Belle, you make me want to embrace the mess. You make me want to try things just because they might be fun, not because they fit into some grand plan."

Her scent shifts again, becomes richer and more complex, and I can see something change in her expression. She sets down her own tools and steps closer, close enough that I can see the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes.

"Fun is good," she says softly. "I think I'd forgotten how to have fun until recently."

"Recently?"

"Since the ball. Since Marcus showed me the construction site and made me remember that work can be passion instead of just obligation. Since you made me realize that someone could find my chocolate obsession charming instead of embarrassing,” she says.

"Belle, there's nothing embarrassing about having passions. The way you light up when you talk about things you love, it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

She's standing close enough now that I can feel the warmth radiating from her skin, close enough that her scent surrounds me completely. Behind us, Claire has discretely moved to the front of the shop, giving us privacy in the workshop space.

"Felix," Belle says, her voice barely above a whisper, "I have something to tell you."

"What is it?" I ask.

"Adam quit his job at the library. I hadn’t seen him since the ball, I assumed he’d been sick, he never answered my call. Then he just handed in his notice, and left town with Seraphina."

The information hits me like a physical blow, not because I care about Adam Chen, but because I can smell the hurt underneath Belle's carefully neutral tone.

"Belle..." I start, but she holds up a hand.

"It's fine. Really. I mean, it's not fine that he left without even talking to me about it, but I'm starting to understand that maybe our friendship wasn't as important to him as I thought it was."

"That doesn't make it hurt less."

"No, it doesn't," she admits. "Twenty years of friendship, and he couldn't even be bothered to say goodbye properly. Just a text message saying he'd left his keys with the other librarian and that he hoped I'd understand."

Her scent carries notes of sadness and betrayal, and my protective instincts flare so strongly I have to clench my fists to keep from reaching for her.

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