Page 78 of How Sweet It Is

“I’ve run the numbers. You’re making more from your gluten-free stock than from your regular pastries. Almost double. And people have been driving in from the mainland forthem, just with the few posts I’ve created on Facebook. I really think you could go all gluten-free and make a killing.”

I stop and lean on my mop handle. “You really think so?”

Claire grins at me as she pulls a whisk from my crock. “I do.”

“Wow. All right, then. What would I need to do?”

“We would need to get rid of your wheat flour and sterilize your kitchen from the wheat. You may want to purchase some new equipment so it has never touched wheat flour. But I really think it would be worth it for you.”

I slowly nod. “And my gluten-free items would be more valuable then?”

“Oh yes. Then you could say your bakery is all gluten-free. That will bring in tons of people who can’t have any cross-contamination.”

I chew on this for a moment. I’ve found great satisfaction in coming up with gluten-free recipes. It’s been a challenge for me, but I get completely pumped when I can beat that challenge and create something delicious that Claire can eat. Excitement bubbles through me at the thought of continuing to do that full-time. I grin. “Let’s do it.”

“Fantastic. I know a lot of people who will be thrilled. We can work on signage and everything this week, and you can order some new baking pans so we’re ready to go full-on gluten-free in a month.”

“A month? You think it will take that long?” I want to ask her if she thinks she’ll still be around in a month, but stay silent. I don’t want to know the answer to that.

“To fully prepare, yes. But don’t worry. I’ll help you.”

I lean the mop against the counter and slide my arms around her, pulling her off the stool and into my arms. “As long as you’ll be around to help,” I say quietly.

“I want to be…” She doesn’t meet my gaze, and I know there’s the part she’s not saying. The part that would pull her away from me.

I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering longer than they should. “I want you to be,” I say, my voice rougher than I intended.

Her eyes flick to mine, hesitant and unreadable, but she doesn’t pull away.

I lower my forehead to hers. “But you might not be.”

She closes her eyes, just for a second. “There’s the trial. And my parents. And the store… I can’t abandon my parents. My sister did, and I just can’t do that to them. They depend on me.”

“And what do you want?” I whisper, not sure I want to know.

She swallows but doesn’t answer me.

I tilt her chin up gently until her eyes meet mine. “Maybe it’s time to explore whatyouwant instead of only doing what others want.”

I kiss her before I lose the nerve, soft and searching. She melts into me, her arms sliding around my waist, and for a moment, the world shrinks to just the two of us.

When we pull apart, her forehead rests against mine again, and I want to believe this means she’s choosing me. Choosing this.

But she pulls back first, slowly, her smile wistful. “I really do want to help you go gluten-free.”

“I know,” I say, even though I want more than just her help with flour.

I hold her there a second longer before stepping back and reaching for the mop again. It’s not the right time to ask her to stay.

But maybe… she’ll see there’s something worth staying for.

CHAPTER 37

CLAIRE MATTHEWS — SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 20

“Do you want to eat in tonight?” I ask, changing the subject. I don’t want to think about the future right now. I need to get through the trial. Eight days. That’s all I have left on Willow Shade Island. I push away all thoughts of leaving. I can’t think about it.

“Thai at your apartment?” he asks as he squeezes the mop.

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