Page 77 of We Can Do
Just as you shouldn’t take your tools for granted, don’t take your partner for granted. Do, however, take responsibility when you make a mistake that doesn’t allow your bread to rise. Just as much, be willing to accept when no one has done anything wrong; it’s simply that life isn’t always pretty. Sometimes the bread burns. We learn from it and do better next time.
If you find yourself frustrated with your baking partner, thinking it would be best that you undertake these tasks alone, pause and ask yourself if that’s what you truly want. What’s more important: the perfect loaf to share on your socials or an afternoon spent laughing and learning with someone else?
Perhaps this endeavor was never really about the bread at all, and instead it was about the bonds we form along the way. So, cherish your partner. Let them know how special they are. Don’t hold past baking mistakes against them and don’t make mountains out of molehills. Apologize when you need to. Together, you’ll create beauty, learning from your past and giving rise to the most delectable future.
A shocked laugh escapes before I can stop it, and I quickly cover my mouth hoping to minimize the noise. As soon as my palm touches my face, I find tears I didn’t realize were streaming down my cheeks. This book isn’t just about baking sourdough. It’s about life partners.
It’s about me and Noah.
My pulse races in anticipation at what these pages truly mean.
A romantic gesture after all.
Noah. I need to see him. Right now.
Grabbing my bag, I rush out of the co-working space and onto the sidewalk startling a man and woman sipping coffee outside the main doors. I know I must look like a crazy person, but I don’t care. Getting to the bakery, to Noah, is all that matters to me.
Rye Again is only four blocks away. I could drive, but traffic right now is ridiculous, and why waste the time? Offering the couple a quick apology, I take off on foot. Weaving in and out of people, I run down the street.
“Excuse me.” I squeeze between a couple, who frown at me with annoyance. “Oops! Sorry!” I nearly trip over a little dog on a leash.
Getting lucky with the crosswalks, I reach Rye Again faster than I thought I would, Stopping across the street from the bakery, I brace my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. It’s still early morning rush and the line is out the door to the sidewalk. Ignoring the grumbles and shouts from customers waiting in line, I push my way inside.
Going right to the counter, I search for Noah, but he isn’t anywhere to be seen. Glancing around, I spot the manager stepping through the door carrying a fresh tray of loaves and change course.
“Lawrence. Where’s Noah?”
“Alexis?” Surprise crosses his face before his brow furrows. “In his office. Is everything okay? You look?—”
“Yeah!” I toss the word over my shoulder as I rush through the swinging door and down the hallway. “I just need to talk to him! Thanks!”
The door to Noah’s office is half open, so I don’t bother to knock. I push it in the rest of the way revealing him sitting at his desk, working on his laptop.
From my loud entrance, he glances up from his screen, eyes going wide with shock. I’m sure I sounded like a heard of elephants busting in here and I probably look mad from my race across town. But I can’t find it in myself to care.
Neither of us speak, we just stare at each other. Emotions are playing across Noah’s face too fast for me to read. Is he glad I’m here? Upset?
Maybe this was a bad idea? I should have driven and asked to meet him out front, or even called. There’s suddenly not enough oxygen to breathe and I realize I’m holding my breath when the room begins to blur. I ran all the way here without pausing, adrenaline pumping, now I’m coming down from the high. Realizing I’m about to pass out, I sink into the single chair in front of his desk and will my heartrate to return to normal.
Slowly, Noah stands rounding the desk. “Hey. Are you okay?”
“Hey.” I squeak and gasp for air.
“Why are you out of breath?”
“I ran here.” I try to laugh. It seems so silly now.
“You… ran here?”
“Yeah.” I bite my lip. Shit. Do I look like a crazy person?
“I don’t understand. Why’d you do that? Is something wrong?”
“I got the pages,” I rush to say. “They were great. Especially the part about baking partners.”
His chest sharply rises and falls as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Good.” He clears his throat. “Alexis, I…I’m sorry. I was wrong. I was worried and panicked. I know you were only trying to help with that article. I overreacted and…” He gestures wildly, but he seems to have run out of words.
Which is fine, I don’t need to hear any more words. I stand and reach for him, crashing my lips into his. His arms immediately wrap around me and the steady warmth of his presence feels grounding, like coming home.
