Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Paige
The morning air is crisp, sunlight spilling in golden bands over the storefronts as I lead my family down Main Street. My heart’s been in my throat all morning, thumping against my ribs in anticipation and nerves.
I’ve been keeping this to myself for what feels like forever—one whole week since I got the keys—and it’s been pure torture not blurting it out every single moment.
Jason’s on my left, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, his brow furrowed. He’s not much of a morning person, but he’ll just have to deal.
Mom is on my other side, her stride brisk to keep up with us, as we are both taller than she is. We all took after Dad, who’s now a few steps behind Mom, taking in the storefronts like he hasn’t walked this street a hundred times before.
“I still don’t see why we couldn’t just grab breakfast at the house,” Jason mutters.
“Because,” I say, smiling over my shoulder, “this is better. Trust me.”
He narrows his eyes, suspicious, but doesn’t press it. Good. The surprise will be worth it.
I’ve been holding off on telling them until I knew the rewiring could be done without draining my entire budget. Ben’s electrician came through in record time with a quote and a time estimate. I was worried it would take months, but it turns out he only needs a couple of weeks to rewire the place.
There are two other spaces in the building, not including mine and Ben’s huge one, but they don’t have to be rewired for the moment. That’s something the electrician and Ben can discuss another time.
That was my last big question mark, the thing that could have slowed me down by months. Now? The path’s clear, and I can finally let them in on it.
The storefront’s just ahead, sunlight glinting off the not-dusty-anymore front windows. My chest tightens as I glance at it. It doesn’t look like much yet, but to me, it’s possibility wrapped in brick and glass. I can already see the new signage, the painted trim, the little tables out front.
We pass The Wandering Pint, but I keep my gaze fixed ahead, telling myself not to wonder if Ben’s inside. I haven’t seen him since the day he showed me around. That’s been… its own kind of distraction. Not one I’m about to unpack with my brother walking right next to me.
I slow my steps as we approach the door, fishing the keys from my pocket. “Okay,” I say, turning to face them, my grin breaking free. “We’re here.”
Jason’s brows draw together as his gaze flicks from me to the door. “We’re where?” he says, his tone carrying that grumpy edge he gets when he thinks I’m wasting his time.
I can’t help the grin that widens across my face. “You’ll see.”
Sliding the key into the lock, I hear the soft click that still sends a thrill through me every time. I push the door open and step aside, gesturing for them to go in first.
The windows aren’t dusty anymore; sunlight spills through them, painting warm rectangles across the floorboards.
Mom steps inside first, her eyes sweeping over the space. Dad follows, his hands in his jacket pockets, looking around like he’s already measuring it. Jason lingers at the threshold for a second, glancing at the blank walls and empty floor before stepping in.
“This is…” Mom starts, trailing off as she turns back toward me.
“Mine,” I say, my voice soft. The words feel so good to finally say out loud to them. “My bakery. I signed the lease last week.”
There’s a beat of silence before it sinks in. Mom’s eyes widen, her hands coming up to cover her mouth. Dad’s brow furrows, but there’s a spark in his expression, like he’s already running through the logistics. Jason’s head jerks toward me so fast I half expect him to pull a muscle.
“You’re serious?” he asks.
I nod, biting my lip to keep from outright bouncing in place. “Completely serious. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I needed to know if I could handle the rewiring first. Ben’s electrician came through fast, and it’s all doable. I’m good to go.”
The moment hangs there, their eyes on me, the light streaming in through the windows, my heart pounding with a mix of pride and nerves. For the first time since I signed that lease, it feels real in a way nothing else has.
“Wait, Ben?” Jason says. “My Ben?”
“Yes,” I say, bracing for the reaction I know is coming. “He owns the building… I thought you knew that.”
Jason blinks at me, then glances around the space like he’s suddenly seeing it in a different light. “I do know that, but… He leased it to you? Why didn’t he say anything to me?”
“I asked him not to,” I admit sheepishly. “I wanted everything to be all set before I said anything. I wanted to tell you myself. When I knew for sure this was going to work. I didn’t want to get everyone’s hopes up, only to have it fall through.”
Jason’s frown deepens, like he’s not sure if he’s more confused or angry. “Still. That’s… a hell of a thing to keep quiet about.” He narrows his eyes. “He didn’t screw you over on this, did he?”
I laugh, the sound bouncing off the empty walls. “No.” I tilt my head to the side. “I don’t think so, anyway.”
Jason doesn’t return the smile, his arms folding across his chest in that big-brother posture that always makes me feel like I’m twelve again. “You don’t think so?”
Rolling my eyes, I step farther into the room and spread my arms, turning slowly so they can all take it in. “Jason, look around. If he’d screwed me over, I wouldn’t be standing here grinning like an idiot. The lease is solid, the rent’s fair, and his electrician gave me a deal on the rewiring.”
Dad steps in. “You’re paying for the rewiring? Honey, as the owner of the building—” my dad starts, his lawyerly ways coming back despite retiring and selling his practice a couple of years ago.
“No, no,” I interrupt. “He’s paying for the basic rewiring to handle the upgrades. I’m only paying for the specialty stuff. I’m not an idiot, guys.” This is not how I wanted this to go. My excitement is dimming a little bit, and I kind of regret doing this today.
“Of course you’re not. We know that,” Dad says, his voice gentling as he glances around again. There’s something in his eyes now that wasn’t there when we walked in—pride? Maybe a little impressed, though he’s still wearing a thoughtful expression.
“Ben’s been really decent about the whole thing. I didn’t even know it was his when I looked at the place,” I say.
“Good,” Jason grits out, though I can tell he’s kidding. He confirms it when he says, “That means I don’t have to kick his ass.”
I smirk, knowing full well that Jason won’t be letting it go. He’ll bring it up to both of us until we get sick of him for it.
Mom finally steps closer. “Paige,” she says softly, tears glimmering in her eyes. I roll my eyes to stop my own tears from gathering. I’m a sympathetic crier. I can’t help myself.
“It’s beautiful. I can see it already,” she says, pulling me into a hug.
“It’s going to be amazing, Mom.” My voice wavers just enough to give me away, but she doesn’t call me on it. She just squeezes me tighter, smelling faintly of lavender lotion and the tea she drinks every morning.
When she lets go, her hands linger on my arms, her eyes still shining. “You’ve worked so hard for this,” she says, shaking her head like she can’t quite believe it’s real. “You deserve every bit of it.”
I take a slow turn in the middle of the room, letting myself soak in the way the sunlight spills over the newly cleaned windows. Imagining the way it would spill the same way over the tables.
Jason’s quiet now, his arms no longer folded, but his expression still guarded. I know him well enough to understand it’s not disapproval—just the way he processes change. He’ll come around. He always does.
Dad moves toward the front window, looking out toward the street like he’s already imagining customers at those outdoor tables I told him about. “You’ll need a good sign,” he says after a moment, glancing over his shoulder at me. “Something clean, easy to read from the street.”
I grin. “Already working on it. I’ve got a couple of designs in mind, but I’ll consult with Libby,” I say, thinking of a friend from high school who went to school for design.
His mouth tips up at the corner, and he nods, not speaking. Dad doesn’t cry, not like Mom anyway. I know him well enough to understand that this is his way of expressing pride.
I step into the sunlight pooling on the floor, running my fingertips over the smooth surface of the counter that will someday hold a register and trays of pastries. “It’s all going to come together,” I say more to myself than to anyone else. “You’ll see.”