Chapter 30 #2
Still, for reasons I don’t fully understand, I never quite treat it like it’s over. If I did, this would all be so much easier.
?????????
A few days later, I find a crisp, black envelope at my door.
It’s tucked just above the handle, half-hidden inside the frame like it was slipped there in secret.
There’s no postage or return address, just my name written across the front in clean, deliberate handwriting.
This was hand-delivered.
My stomach drops at the sight.
I already know who this is from. After seeing Alex’s notebook every week for months, I’d recognize those strokes anywhere.
I stand there for a second, staring at it like it might disappear if I look away. Like opening it will shift something I’m not ready to disturb.
“Okay,” I mutter to myself, reaching forward to grab it, dislodging it from its resting place.
It’s heavier than I expect. Thick, expensive paper if I had to guess.
I run my thumb along the edge before finally sliding it open to find a single card with elegant, foil lettering across the top.
Northern Flame
Grand Opening Invitation
March 27th
5:00 PM
The address scrolls across the bottom in small, clean font that’s easy to read.
My eyes scan the words once, then a second time, slower.
I flip the card over like there might be more. Like there should be more, but there isn’t.
I sink down onto the top step without meaning to, the envelope creasing in my grip.
It’s been six months.
Six months of building something new. Of settling into a life that feels steady and good and mine. It’s the closest I’ve ever been to having everything I’ve ever wanted.
And now this.
The questions start coming uninvited, sharp and sudden. I press my lips together, closing my eyes.
Was our connection real? Of course it was. I know it was. There would be no way to fake it all that well.
Hadn’t Alex moved on? If he had, then why would he bother inviting me?
I stare at the card again, tracing the embossed lettering with my finger.
Does this mean something, or is it just polite?
A courtesy extended to everyone from the show?
A strategic move to create more buzz for the opening?
I groan a sigh—Do I even want to go?
The last one lingers longer than I expect it to, because the truth is—I don’t know if I want to go.
Going means stepping back into something I’ve spent months learning how to carry differently. It means seeing him again. Standing in his space, his world, and pretending like it doesn’t matter more to me than it should.
Will it just stir up all the feelings I’ve finally figured out how to hold at a distance?
I let my head fall back against the door behind me, thoughts more confused than ever.
“I don’t have to go,” I say out loud.
Just because he invited me doesn’t mean my attendance is required. Nobody is forcing me to go.
My life is good.
I’m happy.
I don’t need to reopen something just because it’s there.
I push myself up off the ground and finally enter my apartment, setting the invitation on my kitchen table like it’s just another piece of mail.
Like it’s not quietly unraveling every carefully folded thought I’ve had about him for the past six months just by existing.
Before taking the hottest shower my chilled skin can tolerate, I send a quick SOS text to Kara and by the time I’m out, she’s already perched at my kitchen table with two bowls of ice cream.
“You always know exactly what I need.”
She smiles, kicking out a chair for me with her foot. With a single finger, I slide the invitation across the table for her to read on her own and scoop a heaping spoonful of Ben & Jerry’s into my mouth.
As she looks it over, I launch into my thoughts.
Kara doesn’t let me finish explaining before she interrupts. “He built a restaurant and invited you.”
I blink at her from across the table. “I—yeah, but…”
“You’re going.”
It’s not a suggestion or question, but a declaration.
I open my mouth to argue, then close it again racking my brain for the right words to convey, well… everything.
“It’s not that simple,” I try instead.
“It is that simple,” she counters immediately, tone sharper than I expect. “You just don’t want it to be.”
I cross my arms, leaning back in my chair and eyeing my best friend suspiciously. “You don’t think it’s weird? Not even a little bit?”
“No.” She rolls her eyes at me.
“You don’t think it might just be a general invite?”
Kara gives me a look that I know all too well. It’s the don’t-be-an-idiot look she uses at work all the time.
“A general invite that was hand-delivered to your front door?” She deadpans.
“Well—”
“Taylor.”
I drag a hand down my face. “I just don’t want to accidentally read into something that isn’t there.” I drop both hands to the table on a heavy sigh.
“And I don’t want you to pretend something isn’t there when it clearly is.” She arches an eyebrow, punctuating her point with a swivel of her neck.
We stare at each other for a second.
She softens, but not much.
“If you don’t go, you’re going to think about it forever. If there’s even the slightest chance that you’ll regret not going, to you owe it to yourself to go.”
I look down at my hands, picking at the edge of my sleeve. She’s right. If I don’t show up, I’ll always wonder what it would have been like to see him again.
To stand in the space he’s been working toward for so long, and find out if what we had was really just something temporary or something that just needed better timing.
I faceplant on the table with a groan.
My life feels steady and good and full.
But this? This feels like a turning point. Like something I can either step toward or away from. And either way, it’s going to matter because it’s going to change everything.
I glance up at Kara.
She doesn’t say anything this time, just spoons ice cream into her mouth while she watches me. She knows she doesn’t have to push any further. I already know the answer.
“Fine,” I say quietly. “I’ll go.”
Her grin is immediate. “Hell, yeah!”
I shake my head, but I can’t quite stop the small smile pulling at my lips. Part of me is more nervous than I want to admit. Another part of me feels something else entirely.
Something I haven’t felt since leaving the America’s Next Great Baker tent—anticipation.