Chapter 13
It blows off the lake, blanketing the town in two full feet of wintry white. By the next morning, New Year’s Eve, the plows have made enough headway that I can make my way to Lou’s for breakfast. The diner is packed with townies who all had the same idea.
I have a hot coffee warming my hands when Rosie stops at my usual booth to take my order. I open my mouth to tell her, “Just my usual,” but stop myself.
I have never been one for resolutions: optimistic declarations given for no other reason than a calendar date and prone to be forgotten before spring. But as my eyes skim the menu, they stop on a section they usually skip right over.
“I’ll have the chocolate chip pancakes, please.”
Rosie doesn’t blink twice at my new revelation. “Coming right up.”
Perhaps this year will be different.
—
The pancakes are delicious. I don’t feel any different by the time I’m two-thirds of the way through, but I definitely am stuffed.
Rosie comes to refill my coffee and eyes my unfinished plate. “Room for dessert?”
I groan involuntarily. “I don’t think I can do it this morning. I’m so full.”
“Are you sure?” says a different voice.
One that is not Rosie’s.
One that is very deep.
I look up as Rosie turns around.
Reeve stands behind her with a white paper box in his hands. There is no suit today. Just jeans, a gray zip-up hoodie, and a mid-length wool coat, one shade of gray darker.
Maybe it isn’t the suits that are my problem.
“I’m hoping you have at least a little room.” He holds out the box. “Although we can freeze them, Annie was pretty insistent that they be eaten the same day.”
He slides onto the bench across from me, placing the white box in the center of the table.
“Did you say Annie?” My fingers tremble as I reach for the lid. I have to stop and squeeze them into fists.
Reeve reaches for the white butcher’s twine, slipping it off the box to lift the lid. “Yeah. I tried to do it myself, but it turns out I’m a terrible baker. I think that’s why she gave these to me. I showed her my best attempt, and she took pity on me.”
I look up, my head all of a sudden so dizzy that I’m not entirely sure if I’m hearing him correctly. “You met Annie?”
Reeve nods. “Yeah, and she still remembers you. I think that’s the other reason she agreed to give these to me.”
I stare at the two tarts nestled in the center of the box. So perfect. Exactly like I remember.
“I don’t want to guilt you into eating them if you don’t have—”
“No,” I interrupt, finally finding enough steadiness in my fingers to reach into the box and lift one out. “I can’t wait.”
Even before the tart reaches my lips, I know it tastes exactly like how Annie used to make them. I can smell the sweetness. It’s the same sugary scent I used to wake up to. That warm comfort. The feeling of being safe.
I close my eyes and bite.
The pastry flakes in my mouth, and as the filling hits my tongue, a single tear falls down my cheek.
Reeve reaches out and wipes it with the pad of his thumb. “It’s really that good, huh?”
My eyes fly open. “You have no idea. You need to try one.” I push the box with the second tart toward him, but he shakes his head.
“No, that’s yours. I was hoping for more, but she had sold out of almost everything over the holidays. I’m pretty sure these two came from her own personal stash.”
His words register. “You went to Orillia?”
He shrugs as if it’s not a big deal. “I have an artist friend up there. He had some new pieces he wanted me to look at. When I realized I couldn’t make the thing on my own, I had to go to planB.”
The gravity of what he’s done hits me. “Thank you, Reeve. I don’t think you know how much this means.”
My hand covers his, my cold fingers curled around to his warm palm.
“Have dinner with me?” The words come out of my mouth the same way they did his a few weeks ago.
He smiles like he’s been waiting for this. “Tonight?”
I nod until I remember.
“Wait. No, I can’t. There’s this big New Year’s Eve thing at the Legion. Zoe is going to jump out of a cake. She’s been working on it for weeks, and I need to help her get into it and potentially out of it.”
He nods, understanding, and a thought settles over me.
I don’t want to wait to see him again.
“Come with me?”