Chapter 10
TESSA
Tessa was three minutes into explaining why Lucy’s lavender honey cookies would fail when Lucy cut her off.
“You’re glowing.”
“I’m not glowing.”
“You are. Sit. Tell me everything.”
It was their Monday morning check-in, the same corner table at Flour & Honey at eight thirty, where they reviewed partnership details, coordinated schedules, and argued about menu choices. The table with the wobbly leg Lucy refused to fix because she claimed it had character.
Tessa opened her laptop and pulled up the spreadsheet tracking their joint catering contracts. “We need to finalize the Patterson wedding menu.”
Lucy set down two coffees and a plate of those lavender cookies. “Stop deflecting.”
“I’m not.”
“You look happy. It’s disturbing.” Lucy sat across from her. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
“Liar.”
Tessa broke off a piece of the cookie and tasted it.
Lavender and honey, restrained, balanced, asking for attention instead of demanding it.
A flavor people didn’t expect but kept thinking about afterward.
She’d told Lucy the cookie wouldn’t sell.
She’d said the same about the chocolate-tahini bar three months ago and the rosemary-olive-oil shortbread nine months before that.
She’d been wrong every time. She was starting to think the problem wasn’t the cookies.
“It’ll sell.”
“I know.”
“You always do.”
“I really do.”
Tessa exhaled. “Gabriel found out I was catering Eleanor Beauchamp’s gallery opening Saturday night. He made it his business to be there.”
Lucy leaned forward. “He tracked you down.”
“He’d heard, called Eleanor for an invitation within the hour. His words.”
“And then?”
“We went to dinner at a Thai place in Chelsea. We talked.”
“About what?”
“Things.”
“Helpful.”
“Lucy.”
“What kind of things. Surface things? Deep things? Emotional baggage things?”
“All the above, and I think I’m about to do something stupid.”
“You’re about to do something brave. There’s a difference.”
The door chimed.
Commuters ordered coffee to go. Students camped with laptops. Regulars defended their territory like it was a sovereign nation.
Footsteps approached the counter.
Lucy stood and called from their table. “Morning. What can I get you?”
“A dozen assorted danish for the office. Whatever you recommend.”
Tessa glanced up.
Gabriel Sterling stood at the counter in a charcoal suit, with a white shirt, and a tie loosened the way he always loosened it on the walk somewhere.
He held his phone in one hand and his wallet in the other.
He looked like he belonged behind smoked glass and security badges, not standing in line for blueberry scones.
He hadn’t seen her yet.
“Gabriel.” Lucy’s voice carried the particular edge she reserved for men who needed watching. “Devney’s usual order?”
He glanced at Lucy, and then his gaze found the corner table.
“Tessa.”
“Hi.”
He walked over and stopped at the edge of it, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes.
Lucy crossed her arms. “Is this an accident or on purpose?”
Gabriel didn’t hesitate. “I volunteered to pick up Devney’s order. Practically fought Knox for it.”
The hard line of Lucy’s mouth softened by half. “You fought your business partner for pastry duty.”
“It seemed important.”
“Sit.” Lucy waved toward the empty chair, and the edge in her voice gentled. “I’ll get you a danish while I box up the rest.”
“You don’t have to—“
“Consider it a reward for honesty. It’s rarer than you’d think.” She walked back to the counter before either of them could argue.
Gabriel turned to Tessa. “May I sit?”
“Yes.”
He slid into the chair Lucy had vacated. Not across. Beside. His shoulder pressed against hers when he settled.
“You’re picking up Devney’s order.”
“I texted her this morning and told her I was in the neighborhood. She asked if I could grab it.”
“You just happened to be in Park Slope.”
“I had a meeting nearby.”
“At eight thirty on a Monday morning.”
“Yes.”
“That’s convenient.”
He grinned. “Isn’t it?”
Lucy returned with an almond danish still warm from the oven and set it in front of him. “On the house. Because you’re dating my best friend, and I want to establish that I’m watching you.”
“Lucy.”
“What. I’m watching him.”
“We’re not dating.”
“You’re dating.”
“We had dinner once.”
“Twice, if you count the hot dog and the Thai place,” Gabriel added.
“That wasn’t a date.”
“What was it?” He let the question hang.
“Research. I always study a man before I commit.”
Gabriel’s voice dropped low. “I’ll keep that in mind.” It did things to her pulse.
Lucy looked between them. “You know what I love about this.”
“Enlighten me,” Tessa said.
“Two people who’ve spent their whole lives being careful, planning everything. And here you are, completely blindsided by each other.” She grinned. “It’s delicious.”
“We’re not blindsided.”
“Honey, he fought a billionaire over danish. You’re wearing mascara on a Monday. Neither of you is fooling anyone.”
Tessa opened her mouth, then closed it. There was no good defense for that one.
“That’s what I thought.” Lucy walked toward the kitchen and called back over her shoulder, “For the record? You’re both terrible at pretending you’re not already in over your heads.”
The kitchen door swung shut behind her.
Gabriel picked up his danish and took a bite. He set it down. His hand stayed on the wood, long fingers spread flat.
“She doesn’t miss much.”
“She misses nothing.”
“I respect that.”
“You should.”
“So.” Tessa met his eyes. “A meeting in Park Slope on a Monday morning at eight thirty.”
“Yes.”
“You remembered I’m here on Mondays.”
“I remembered.”
“From three weeks ago, when you showed up with Knox.”
“It mattered.”
She let it land.
“You’re not very subtle, are you?”
“Not when it matters.”
He turned to face her, and the movement brought his shoulder fully against hers. Her knee brushed his under the table, and she didn’t move it. She could see the stubble along his jaw, the tension in his neck, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he was holding back a smile.
He broke off a piece of danish and offered it to her. “Here, taste this, I want to watch you enjoy it.” She took the bite. Almond paste and butter and flaky layers dissolving on her tongue. When she licked the sugar from her thumb, his eyes tracked the movement.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Have you ever been serious about anyone? Since.”
Gabriel turned the remaining danish in his fingers. “Once. Briefly. I was twenty-eight. She wanted a future. I wanted Oath Capital. She picked first.”
“That’s a clean break for somebody who wanted a future.”
“It was clean for her. I think it was clean for me too. Which is the part I’ve been thinking about the last few weeks.”
“What part?”
“The part where I let her go without a fight, and the only thing I felt was relieved that I could keep working.”
“Relieved?”
“Yes.” He set the danish down. “It scared me when I noticed. So I noticed once and didn’t look at it again until you walked into a wedding and dropped a tray.”
Tessa’s hand stilled on her coffee cup. The words settled into the space between them.
“And now?”
“Now I’m sitting in a bakery with you, wondering why I wasted so much time being careful.”
Her laptop chimed with a calendar reminder for an eleven thirty meeting in midtown. She closed the computer and gathered her things.
Gabriel stood to let her out, and the movement forced them close. His hand came to her elbow, steadying her.
“I have to go.”
“I know.”
“Coffee tomorrow?”
“Can’t. I’m slammed until Wednesday and nowhere near midtown.”
“Wednesday, then. I have a place I go. No one else knows about it.”
“That’s a Batcave.”
“It’s not my Batcave.”
“It’s a lair.”
He laughed. “I’ll send you the address.”
“Already wondering what I’m walking into.”
She left in a rush, because she was about to do something stupid like kiss him in Lucy’s bakery in front of half of Park Slope.
Outside, the heat hit hard. A bus released a cloud of diesel at the corner and sweat beaded at her temples before she’d walked ten feet.
Her phone buzzed before she reached the corner.
Gabriel: Address sent. Wednesday. Ten.
Tessa: I’m picturing a fortress. Maybe a moat.
Gabriel: Closer to the moat than the fortress.
She laughed out loud on a Brooklyn sidewalk, and a man with a stroller swerved around her.
The subway was two blocks ahead. She’d make it if she hurried.
She was still smiling when she reached the platform.