Chapter 31 #2
She considers that as she analyzes the pristine prep room with state-of-the-art appliances and flawless chrome countertops.
“That’s why this is back here, isolated in a controlled environment. No interference.”
Her gaze moves across the room, lingering on the equipment, the layout, the way everything is set up with intention for optimum flow.
“It’s perfect,” she murmurs.
I swallow. “It needed to be.”
She glances at me, curiosity flickering in her expression.
I push off the counter, moving toward the second door at the far end of the room. My lips tip up on one side.
“There’s one more thing.”
I don’t look at her as I reach for the handle.
I just open it.
The space beyond is quiet as natural light filters in through a large front-facing window, catching on glass display cases and clean white counters. The entrance to the street sits just on the other side, opposite from the main restaurant, exactly as planned.
I step back, letting her take it in.
She doesn’t move at first. Then slowly, she steps past me.
Her heels click softly against the floor as she walks further inside, her gaze sweeping across every detail: black and white checkered floor, chrome bar and stools, pink accent wall with TT in bright white script.
I watch her carefully; every reaction etched into memory.
Her fingers brush along the edge of one of the display cases.
Her breath catches as she peeks out the front window, seeing the neon pink awnings hovering above the sidewalk outside.
She turns in a slow circle, taking in the space from every angle not saying a word.
“This…” she starts, then trails off. Both hands cover her mouth, eyes glittering in the light.
I stay quiet, arms casually crossed while I let her get there on her own. She stops near the center of the room, turning back toward me.
“What is this?”
I hold her gaze, unblinking.
“You know what this is” My answer hangs between us.
She shakes her head, blinking in confusion. Disbelief.
“I built this side of the business with someone very specific in mind.” My voice stays steady, though my pulse is hammering. “She just didn’t know about it until now and hasn’t decided if she wants it yet.”
She stares at me like she’s trying to piece it all together, like she’s not sure she heard me right.
“You built this… for me?” she asks, voice quieter now.
“Yeah.”
“That’s…” She exhales sharply. “Alex, that’s a lot.”
“I know.”
“And what if I say no?”
It’s my turn to suck in a sharp breath, but I nod once before speaking. “Then you’d say no.”
Her brows pull together as she processes my words. “Right but then what? You’d just keep it?”
“I’d figure something else out,” I say honestly.
She folds her arms waiting for me to go on.
“I have a stack of resumes in my office from different pastry chefs who submitted inquiries, and I’d have to step in in the interim period if you don’t want it, but I wasn’t going to not build it just because I didn’t know what you’d say.”
Taylor paces across the tile, hands resting on her hips but her eyes never stray from my face. She narrows her gaze, searching. “Why?”
God, how do I even answer that question?
Because I miss you.
Because nothing has felt right since we left LA.
Because I’ve been building this place and thinking about where you would stand, what you would do, how you would fit into this place like you were always supposed to be here.
A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow hard against it as my thoughts try and fail, to transform into coherent words.
Instead, I take a step closer.
“Because you’re too special not to have something of your own,” I say quietly. “And I knew if I waited, you’d go find that space somewhere else, without me. And I don’t want a version of this that doesn’t have you in it.”
Her breath hitches, tilting up to hold my gaze.
“I’m not asking you to give anything up. I won’t do that because I know you’ve created something you love back in Cambria—” I stop myself and steal a breath. “I’m offering you a place here. If you want it.”
She looks around the space again, and I can see it happening. The realization that this is what she told me she’d do if she won the competition.
“You built my dream,” she says softly, bringing a gentle hand to my chest. I look down at her chipped yellow nail polish and smile—there’s a little bit of that quirky chaos I love.
“Yeah.”
Her eyes find mine again briefly before she closes the distance between us. And thank God she does because I don’t know how much longer I could hold back.
Her hands find my shirt, gripping lightly as she pulls me down toward her.
And then she kisses me.
It’s everything we didn’t let ourselves do the second she walked through the door.
I kiss her back immediately, one hand coming up to cup the back of her head, the other wrapping around her waist and pulling her flush against me.
She tastes like that watermelon lip gloss I can’t get enough of and hope and happiness and everything that’s good in this world.
She makes a soft sound against my mouth, and I lose whatever restraint I had left.
I dip her without thinking, one arm supporting her back as the other tangles in her hair, loosening the careful style she showed up in.
She laughs into the kiss, breathless and bright, and when I pull back just enough to meet her eyes, I can’t help but smile.
“There’s one condition,” I murmur, lips brushing hers.
Her eyes flicker with amusement. “Oh yeah?”
“You can never smooth your hair out like this again,” I say, tugging lightly on one of the loosened strands. “I love your curls, they are part of what make you… you.”
She laughs, full and unguarded in a way I haven’t heard in months.
“Deal,” she says, breathless.
I kiss her again before she can say anything else.
Because I’ve waited long enough.
And this time—I’m not letting her go.