Page 105 of For The Weekend
“Hey there,” Mio says from her place behind the counter.
“Hi!” My kid points at the cinnamon rolls behind the glass. “Daddy said I could have one.”
Mio laughs. “Lucky girl.” Then, as if she’s been expecting me, she motions to the curtain. “Elle’s in the back.”
Well, then.
With Mazie settled at a table with one of Eloise’s gigantic cinnamon buns, I make my way to meet the baker herself. She’s faced away from me, and I can’t see what she’s doing, but I assume whisking something by the way she’s moving infinitesimally and the sounds of metal scraping. Her hair’s pulled up in a knot at the back of her head with her usual headband keeping loose locks away. She’s dressed in high-waisted leggings and a short pink shirt, her round hips and ass on display, a sliver of skin visible that my fingers tingle to touch. The memory of her thighs around my waist and the feel of her belly under my hand ransack my brain, hurling all the words I’d practiced from my head.
I watch as she steps over to one of the ovens and slips on mitts to pull out a pan that makes my mouth water with the scents of sugar and cinnamon wafting my way. I’ll never not think of Eloise when I smell it.
She pours the icing she’d been mixing over it then places the bowl in the sink, but not before running a spoon along the inside and popping it into her mouth. She nods to herself then turns to wash her hands, and that’s when I close the distance between us. I snatch a folded towel from the counter near me and hold it out toward her as I step up to her side.
When she sees me, she stumbles back, one wet hand planting on her chest, the other ripping out her AirPod. “Oh my god.”
“Sorry.”
She droops, taking the towel from my hands, and wipes them off before setting it down along with both of her AirPods.She lifts her gaze, and all the air whooshes out of my lungs. Like the first time I laid my eyes on her, it’s that same punch in my chest—strong, overwhelming, undeniable.
I love her.
I loved her from that first moment.
And I still love her.
I plant my feet and anchor myself to the moment, breathing her name like a prayer and apology all in one. “Eloise.”
She blinks, her lips parted in an inhale, and then blinks again. Her pretty green eyes fill with water, and I bend immediately, catching the first tear on her cheek with a kiss. “Don’t cry.”
She sniffles, leaning into my touch. It’s been a few days since we’ve seen each other, but it might as well have been years for the magnitude of how it feels to be reunited with her. I know I said I was the one who needed time, and that was a self-inflicted wound.
I didn’t need time to know I loved Eloise. I needed time to realize I can’t do what I’ve done before and run away. There is no running away from Eloise.
It would be like losing a limb. An organ.
My heart.
I wait until her eyes are dry, but I keep my hands on her face, sweeping my thumbs over her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for walking out of your apartment that night and not answering you, and I’m really sorry for what I said about your family. It was way out of line.”
She nods, curling her hands around my wrists. “And I’m sorry for going behind your back to contact Amy. I shouldn’t have overstepped like that.”
“I know you did it because you thought it was the right thing,” I say, holding her gaze, “but I wish you would havetalked to me first. I want you in my life. You’re the one and only person I actually want up in my business, but?—”
“But only if you know I’m up in your business,” she finishes, and I pinch her chin.
“I promise I’ll tell you everything and be open with you. I want you to know everything about me. No secrets.”
“No secrets,” she agrees, and then I kiss her because I can. Because I can’t wait any longer. She tastes familiar and new all at the same time, but before I can get sidetracked by the taste of her tongue, she backs away slightly and crinkles her nose. “I… Reading Amy’s letter…”
“It’s okay.” I slide my hands down to her throat, her pulse beating rapidly behind my fingers, and she licks her lips.
“I don’t want this to come off in a type of way…”
I shake my head. I won’t ever judge her, and I feel her swallow under my palm. She clears her throat. “Amy seems like, maybe, she still needs to work through things.”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t like what she said about you.”
