Page 123 of King of Praise
I laugh. “I had good teachers.” I don’t mention those “teachers” included Zeke’s financial advisors and Sebastian’s business consultants, who carefully vetted everything from our initial loan application to supplier contracts.
“And good instincts,” she counters, patting my hand. “Not everyone understands the balance between quality and accessibility, between luxury and comfort. You do.”
Her compliment warms me more than she knows. Finding that balance has been intentional—creating a space that feelsspecial without being intimidating, that offers exceptional quality without pretension. Like so many aspects of my new life, it represents a reclaiming of sorts—taking the privilege I was born into but making it serve connection rather than separation.
As I return to the kitchen, my phone buzzes with a text from Olivia:
Olivia
Flying in with Seb at 3. Car service arranged. Bringing obscene amount of champagne because THREE YEARS of deliciousness deserves proper celebration… Can’t wait to see your gorgeous faces.
I smile at her characteristic enthusiasm. The friendship that began in a support group for domestic violence survivors has evolved into one of the most reliable constants in my life, surviving distance and dramatic life changes. Her relationship with Sebastian, which started as casual physical connection, survived insurmountable violence and war to survive and ultimately thrive.
The rest of the workday passes in productive rhythm. We sell out of the hazelnut croissants by eleven, the specialty sourdough loaves by one, and the seasonal apple galettes by two-thirty. I’m reviewing tomorrow’s production schedule when Eliza pokes her head into my office.
“Last customers are headed out. Want me to lock up?”
I glance at the clock—three-fifteen, fifteen minutes before our normal closing time. “Are we clear?”
“Just Mr. Rodriguez finishing his coffee, but he said he’s leaving in five.”
“Perfect, thanks. Go ahead and count out the register, then you and the team can head out early. We’ll handle cleanup.”
Eliza disappears, and I save the production file before standing to stretch my back. The physical demands of professional baking—hours of standing, repetitive motions, heavy lifting—took some adjustment after years of more sedentary work. But I’ve grown to appreciate the tangible fatigue of honest labor. It’s so different from the nervous exhaustion of constantly monitoring Lucas’s moods, of walking on eggshells in my own home.
I find Micah in the front of the café, already wiping down tables. This, too, has become part of our routine—closing the shop together on days when we have evening plans.
“Olivia and Seb’s flight landed,” he says without looking up. “They’ll be at the loft in about forty-five minutes.”
“Perfect. That gives us time to finish here and get home to shower before they arrive.”
He straightens, his dark eyes finding mine with an intensity that still makes my breath catch. “Shower together?”
Heat spreads through my body. Three years together, and he can still melt me with a look, a tone, a simple suggestion.
“That depends,” I counter, moving closer until I stand directly in front of him. “Will we actually get clean, or will we end up running late?”
His large hand slides around my waist, pulling me against his solid frame. “I can be efficient when properly motivated.”
“Is that so?” I tilt my head back to meet his gaze, letting my hands rest against his chest. “And what might constitute proper motivation?”
In answer, he lowers his head to capture my lips in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly intensifies, his beard tickling my skin as his tongue seeks entrance. I yield without hesitation, my body responding to his with the same eager synchronicity it always has. His hand slides lower, gripping my ass with possessive pressure that draws a soft moan from my throat.
“That answer your question?” he says against my lips when we finally separate, both breathless.
“Hmm, I might need more convincing.” I press closer, feeling his hardening length against my stomach.
The sound of a throat clearing behind us breaks the moment. We turn to find Eliza standing awkwardly with her coat already on, ready to leave.
“Register’s counted and the deposit’s ready,” she says, not quite meeting our eyes. “We’ve restocked all the front stations for morning.”
“Thank you.” I step back from Micah, though his hand remains at my waist. “See you tomorrow.”
After she leaves, Micah chuckles against my hair. “Think we scandalized her?”
“Probably.” I laugh, but don’t pull away. “Though after three years, you’d think she’d be used to us by now.”
“Some things you don’t get used to.” His hand slides back to my ass, squeezing lightly. “Like how perfectly you fit against me, lovely.”
