Chapter 20
Violet
I walk to the bakery on a cloud of delight.
It’s chilly enough to make me wonder about Simon’s newfound love of snow.
I happily snuggle into my coat, grinning up at the Christmas lights draping between palms in my neighbor’s yards.
They twinkle and sparkle… just like me. Last night was wonderful from start to finish.
Zero regrets. Five stars. Would do again.
Will do again. Promptly upon returning home from work, if I have anything to say about it.
The thought of possibly coming home to Simon has me doing a happy little shimmy.
There was something so sweet and right and touching about sneaking out of bed this morning, careful not to wake him, and then tiptoeing around the house, knowing he was upstairs.
The only thing better would’ve been the two of us waking up together, taking this brisk morning walk lit by the glow of Christmas cheer together, then working side by side in the bakery.
Together.
But Elizabeth is feeling better, and asking Simon to work on his vacation is just plain selfish. So he’s asleep and I’m daydreaming and she’s waiting for me when I get to Sterling’s, leaning on the window with her arms crossed and a knowing smile on her face.
“What’s with the grin?” I ask, digging into my purse for the key.
“A little birdie told me that you found someone extra special to fill in for me yesterday.” Elizabeth’s grin deepens, a crooked thing, dripping with delight.
I lean dreamily on the wall beside her. “Don’t take this the wrong way because I hate that you didn’t feel well, but… I’m really glad you called in sick.”
A blush flares across my cheeks, not from embarrassment, but from bliss, from life blooming in my veins. Like hot cocoa laced with peppermint, and a solitary cup waiting on my porch one cold December morning.
Like warmth blooming in the heart of winter, proof that joy still survives the cold.
Like candlelight catching on glass ornaments, turning every surface to gold.
Like a woman so happy and lovestruck that she zones out, coming up with cringey analogies trying to explain how she feels while her employee waits for her to unlock the bakery door.
Elizabeth pushes off the wall. “Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t call to inform me I was still under the weather and needed to stay home again.”
“Honestly?” I say, slipping my key into the lock. “Same.”
We laugh as we step inside, and I flick on the lights, turning on the Christmas music to keep us company as we prep and shape dough. We hum and joke and laugh. About halfway through the morning, a text comes in from Simon.
Simon
Good morning, beautiful. Should I bring you coffee or are you gonna kill your taste buds with that awful drip machine/cheap bean combo of yours
I roll my eyes, grinning so wide Elizabeth notices.
Very funny
My coffee wins on hometown charm
Your coffee doesn’t come with my smile, though
True…
Your smile is pretty fantastic
But if you showed up, I might not let you leave
You say that like it’s a threat
Elizabeth chuckles and shakes her head, muttering, “New love,” under her breath.
Except it’s not new love. It’s old love. It’s good love. It’s remembering who I really am, and where I should be, and what life is supposed to feel like. It’s falling into old patterns with better habits. It’s—
Hold on now.
Love?
That is not what I signed up for.
That sounds serious and dangerous, like I’m setting myself up for a giant heartbreak at the end of this holiday season.
This, this… whatever it is between me and Simon? It’s nothing more than two people having a good time on a deadline. Simon leaves January first. There’s no room for feelings.
Getting emotionally involved will only end in heartbreak.
Keep it light.
Another buzz.
Simon
I had a great time last night
In case you didn’t already figure that out
I’m hoping you’ll still be there when I get home
I’d like to have a great time tonight as well
I am so on board
Good nights with hot chicks are kinda my thing
So this is no big deal for you?
That’s what you’re saying?
There I was, having a magical evening but it’s just an ordinary Tuesday for Simon Holiday, fancy pants extraordinaire
Nothing about you is ordinary, Violet. Nothing.
I bite back a smile so large I nearly fumble the tray of rolls I’m sliding into the display case.
Or maybe there isn’t heartbreak waiting. Maybe I do get to have a happily-ever-after. I mean, it happens for others, why not me?
Sure. Fine. Why not you? whispers a nasty voice in my mind. Just not with Simon Holiday. Not only is he leaving, but he’s very good at saying one thing but doing another.
I shake my head as if I can rattle the anxiety away.
Thankfully, the store is busy and keeps my mind occupied, pulling me away from doom-laden thoughts.
Every time one comes up, I remind myself that good things happen in this world and I’m just as eligible as everyone else.
That I can have fun with Simon, even knowing forever isn’t an option.
The morning rush comes, blessedly busy. Whenever I get a quiet moment, I check my phone. There’s always a message waiting.
Simon
How many customers have you charmed this morning?
Enough to keep the lights on. Why, jealous?
Maybe
Wish I was the one standing across the counter, watching you smile
Feel free to come on down
But like I said before…
I might not let you leave
His reply comes almost instantly.
But then I’d have to do all the things I have planned for you in the office instead of the bedroom
Won’t that break health codes?
My face warms so fast I duck into the kitchen just to regain composure, and one last text comes in.
I’m sorry to keep bothering. I know you’re busy but can’t stop thinking about you and am being very selfish
I hope you’re having a wonderful day
I can’t wait to see you again
In fact, I can’t wait so much that I want you to text me as soon as you run out of product. I’ll help you close because I am taking you out again tonight
I do another happy little shimmy, then head back out to the counter to finish my day.
The moment we sell the last cookie, I text Simon to let him know. Elizabeth helps me clean and prep for tomorrow, and Simon arrives ten minutes later. Our eyes meet and my breath catches, my pulse speeds. A crooked grin lifts my lips.
He’s wearing jeans and a black peacoat, a red scarf wrapped around his neck. His dark hair is tousled and stubble speckles his jaw. And while that apparently breaks the hotness scale for me, it’s the look on his face that does me in.
It’s like stepping into the best of memories, a time before loss and bitterness eroded the joy of being alive.
He smiles like I’m the best part of his day. Like he knows me and wants me and has been waiting for me and in that instant I feel safe. Like everything in my world is falling into place and suddenly, for no reason and every reason, everything is going to be okay.
Simon crosses the bakery like it’s been days since he saw me rather than hours.
He wraps me in his arms and lovingly pushes stray tendrils of hair out of my face before pressing his lips to mine.
His kiss is tender and filled with want and I lean into him, eager to erase the distance between us.
Like I can somehow bridge the gap of time between who we used to be and who we’ve become.
Elizabeth pokes her head out of the kitchen. “Oh,” she says with a knowing grin. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m done in here. I’ll get out of your hair so you kids can do what you’re gonna do without worrying about me.”
I pull away with a nervous giggle. “Simon’s helping me close so he can take me out.”
She nods like she knows that’s only part of the story, then pulls on her coat with a wry smile.
“Have a good evening,” she singsongs, wagging her eyebrows, her gray braid falling over a shoulder as she steps out the door. As it swishes closed, I turn to Simon.
“Do I get to know where we’re going this time or is it another surprise?”
“Of course it’s a surprise. I can’t believe you even have to ask.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “What’s left to do around here?”
That tone—half tease, half promise—wraps around me like ribbon. He has no idea how easily I’d let him drag me anywhere right now.
“Elizabeth got the cleaning done, but I need to count and reconcile the register, run end of day reports, take stock of perishables so I can prep an inventory order, then, you know, look at numbers so I can see what’s selling and what’s lagging and make adjustments in what we offer next week.”
“How much of that has to happen tonight?”
“Most of it.”
Simon bobs his head as he considers the list. “Do you trust me with the register?”
I almost tell him I’d trust him with anything. And that was true. Once. But after the way he left me three years ago, I remind myself he hasn’t earned the full weight of the statement.
But the register?
“Yeah. I trust you with the register.”
We divide and conquer, making quick work of closing the store. We laugh and joke, singing along to our favorite songs as they come on. It reminds me of the best days working here with Mom and Dad, and of how I always dreamed it would be, working with Simon.
The thought roots something both bitter and sweet in my heart.
I turn and find Simon leaning on the doorway of the office, arms crossed, eyes soft, smile light, watching me.
“What?” I ask.
“This is nice,” he replies, and while I search for something to say that doesn’t sound sad about the past or hopeful about the future, a bright poppy non-descript Christmas song ends.
There’s a heartbeat of silence, our eyes locked, my thoughts churning and his terribly unclear, and then Nat King Cole starts crooning about chestnuts and open fires.
Simon holds out his hand. “Dance with me?”
“Where? Here?”
“Can’t think of a better place.”
And then I’m in his arms and we’re swaying to the music, my cheek on his chest, his head ducked protectively over me.
It’s a stolen moment.
A sweet moment.
A moment I’ll remember for the rest of my life.
When the song ends, he kisses the top of my head, then puts a finger to my chin. “You are something special, Violet Sterling. In case you ever wondered.”
And then his lips are on mine.
My hands slip under his shirt, desperate for skin.
His fingers slide into my hair and we’re moving deeper into the office, kicking the door closed. He swipes my desk clean and I hop onto it, lifting my arms as he pulls off my sweater, closing my eyes as his mouth trails down my neck.
He whispers my name and I arch my back and then all sense of knowing is gone and I’m lost in sensation, lost in the brush of his fingers against my skin, the thrust of his hips, the taste of his tongue.
Lost in him.