Chapter 5
Gwen
“I don’t know what it is, but this has been one of the longest Thursdays we’ve had in a while,” Tess sighs, leaning against the counter beside me.
I’m cleaning the last of the trays while the bakery slowly empties. There’s one customer left, but judging by how much cake they still have, they’ll be gone within the next ten minutes.
“I think you’re just excited for your date night,” I tease. Tess and Leo are going to see a movie tonight, and she’s been talking about it all morning.
“I think I’m in love,” Tess sighs, staring dreamily at the wall.
“Tess, I know damn well you are, and as much as it goes against my cynical soul, I love seeing you like this.”
She smiles.
“Are you doing anything fun tonight?” she asks, taking the clean tray from me and sliding it behind the counter.
“I bought a new book,” I say. “I can’t wait to start it. It’s about a mafia boss looking for an heir, but all his sons are useless. So he considers his son-in-law, which is apparently a huge scandal.”
Tess laughs. “You and your books.”
Then, softer, “You should write one someday.”
I smile, but it lands somewhere halfway.
I’ve thought about it. A lot.
But every time I come up with an idea, my mind jumps to the next one before I can hold onto it. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to pin a story down long enough to write it.
As predicted, the last customer finally leaves.
I turn to grab my things when the bell above the door rings.
“Why?” I mutter under my breath.
I wait for Tess to make some sarcastic remark, but when I glance at her, she’s… staring.
Wide-eyed.
“Hi,” she says to whoever just walked in.
That’s enough to make me turn around.
And then I see him.
Zane.
Immediately, I’m aware of everything: the strand of hair stuck to my cheek, the faint smudge of mascara under my eyes, the flour that somehow managed to get everywhere despite the apron.
“Hey,” Zane says, his voice softer than I remember, his gaze flicking from Tess to me and back again. “How’s your knee?”
He’s wearing a sweatshirt.
Which should not be doing what it’s doing.
His jeans are worn in a way that looks intentional. His hair is slightly messy. And his eyes…
His eyes are unfair.
“It’s you,” I blurt before I can stop myself. “You’re not wearing skates,” I add quickly, like that explains anything.
“He asked about your knee,” Tess murmurs beside me.
Oh my God.
“I need to check on inventory,” she adds, already backing away.
We did inventory this morning.
Traitor.
“My knee’s fine,” I say, turning back to Zane, who’s still standing at the register like this is a normal interaction, and I am absolutely not internally combusting. “I fall recreationally now.”
“Good,” he says, a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. “Leo said you were fine. I just… wanted to make sure.”
Leo texted me that Zane asked about me, but I didn’t believe him. So he did ask about me? That lands somewhere warm and inconvenient.
“What can I get you?” I ask, glancing at our nearly empty display case, mostly to give myself something to do.
“Whatever you recommend,” Zane says.
He smiles.
And somehow, his eyes look even brighter in here than they did on the ice.
“That’s a dangerous thing to say to someone with access to pastries,” I reply.
“I trust you,” Zane counters, and I laugh.
“Alright. One black coffee and a pain au chocolat, it is. Best thing in the bakery.”
“That’s a bold claim,” Zane smirks.
“It’s not a claim. It’s a fact,” I say, placing a hand on my hip.
“Ok, I’ll take your fact.”
My hands feel clumsier than usual as I pass him his order.
“So what brings you here?” I ask, handing him the cup of coffee.
“Leo told me to stop by. He said he’d be around,” Zane explains.
“Leo left during lunchtime. He said something about a meeting, which is billionaire code for ‘someone is panicking, and I need to put out a fire,’” I explain.
“It happens,” Zane shrugs. “Or at least, I guess it does. I don’t have much business sense. My agent has saved me from plenty of sketchy deals.”
He rests an arm behind his head as he speaks.
“I’m pretty sure I know even less about business than you do,” I laugh.
I watch him take a sip of coffee while his gaze drifts around the bakery. He somehow seems even taller without skates than he did on the ice.
“This place is incredible,” he says, taking it all in.
“Yeah, Tess did amazing. We recently opened a program to help the youth in the neighborhood. It’s been great,” I explain.
Zane nods, listening.
“What time do you usually close?” he asks, glancing at the clock.
“About five minutes ago,” I laugh. “You came at the right time.”
“Oh, sorry. If I’d known, I would’ve come earlier.”
“Don’t worry. We’re always happy to help people deprived of caffeine.”
Zane laughs, and it does something to me that I immediately try to ignore.
I can’t do this, I repeat to myself.
Until he looks at me again.
“So you’re technically done working, then?” he asks, holding my gaze.
His eye contact makes my nerves spike, and I accidentally drop the spoon I’ve been fidgeting with.
“We still have to clean up, but my shift is almost over, yes,” I tell him.
“Is there any chance I could take you out for a coffee?” Zane asks.
He sounds… nervous.
I must be imagining it.
Why would he be nervous?
And why would he be asking me out for coffee?
“We have a lot of coffee here,” I laugh.
It comes out like a joke, but I immediately catch the flicker of disappointment in his expression.
“I’m sorry, I meant I’ve already had a lot of coffee today, and I have a few errands to run. But maybe tomorrow we could go for coffee? Unless you have ice hockey. Then another day is fine. Or yeah, that works too. Or”
“Gwen,” Zane interrupts gently.
“Tomorrow sounds good to me. Why don’t you give me your number, and we’ll figure out whether we want coffee, a beer, or something else later? I wouldn’t want to go to your bakery’s competitor, would I?”
He smiles.
And my entire body short-circuits.
Is this really happening?
Did Zane Miller from the Grizzlies just ask for my number?
Does he realize the charity event is over?
“Sure. Yeah. Coffee is good. Beer is good.”
I want to disappear.
Or slap myself.
Because somehow, I’ve completely forgotten how to speak like a normal human being.
“Coffee is good. Beer is good.”
Zane chuckles as he hands me his phone.
It’s a miracle, but somehow I manage to type in my number without dropping it. The thing suddenly feels like the newest phone on the market, and my fingers are anything but steady.
“I’m looking forward to tomorrow,” Zane says, tossing the wrapper of the pain au chocolat into the bin.
“Me too,” I manage.
He’s almost out the door when he pauses and turns back.
“Hey, Gwen?”
I look at him.
“You were great on the ice.”
And just like that, he’s gone.
It takes him maybe ten seconds to disappear. The moment he does, Tess storms in.
She rushes straight to the front door, flips the sign to “closed,” and marches toward me.
“I swear I wasn’t eavesdropping, but the bakery walls are thin, and Gwen did he ask you out?” Tess asks, practically vibrating.
“I’m not sure,” I say, my face already warming as I remove my apron, hoping it helps.
“What do you mean you’re not sure? He asked you for coffee, right? Or a beer?” Her arms are flying as she talks, and all I can do is nod.
“He asked for your number. He asked you to go out for a drink. He asked you out.”
My eyebrows lift on their own.
“He asked me out,” I repeat, still trying to process it.
Tess looks thrilled.
I feel like my brain is running in circles.
Did this really happen? Or did he just feel bad for me?
“He probably did it because he feels bad I fell or something,” I say as Tess hands me a coffee.
“Or,” Tess says firmly, pouring herself one, “he asked you out because you’re an amazing woman. Funny, loyal, kindhearted, you deserve the moon.”
“He’s a famous athlete,” I say quietly. “He can get anyone he wants.”
“He could,” Tess replies. “But he didn’t. He asked for your number. Accept it.”
“Accept what?”
Leo suddenly appears behind us, walking in through the back door.
“Oh God,” I sigh.
“Zane asked Gwen out on a date!” Tess announces excitedly.
“How surprising,” Leo says with that infuriating smirk of his. “When are you going out?”
“He asked me for a drink tomorrow. I think he’s just being nice,” I tell him.
“Zane is a great guy,” Leo says, “but he doesn’t do things because he feels obligated. He does them because he wants to.”
Silence settles between the three of us while my mind tries and fails to catch up.
“Where are you going? What are you wearing?” Tess asks.
And then it hits me.
I’m going on a drink date with Zane tomorrow.
I need to get my life together like, yesterday.
“Maybe I should take him to the Moonlight Lounge,” I suggest.
Leo immediately nods. “Zane loves that place. We’ve gone there after his games a few times.”
The fact that Leo knows the guy I’m going on a date with only makes everything feel more complicated.
“I think you should wear your green blouse, the one with the buttons,” Tess adds. “You bought it when you were trying to put yourself out there.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say with a small, polite smile.
I finish cleaning while Tess and Leo chat behind me. Within five minutes, I’m done, and we all grab our jackets.
“Have fun at the movies,” I tell them as we say goodbye.
I slip out quickly, eager to avoid any more conversation.
Today has been… a lot.
When I get home, I change into pajamas and order pizza. Nothing is getting in the way of me and my book tonight.
A minute after the pizza arrives, my phone buzzes.
My heart drops at the thought of who it might be.
I take a deep breath.
UNKNOWN: Hey, Gwen. I was thinking we could meet at 6:30 tomorrow. Does that work for you? Let me know where you’d like to go.
UNKNOWN: This is Zane, by the way.
My heart starts doing all kinds of strange flips in my chest, and I can’t help smiling at my phone. He’s really texting me. He actually wants to go tomorrow. Somewhere, in an apartment, probably a penthouse, he’s sitting with his phone in hand, texting me.
My fingers feel slightly unsteady as I reply.
ME: Hi! 6:30 works. Let’s meet at the Moonlight Lounge.
ME: This is Gwen, by the way.
I feel oddly satisfied with the message and quickly place my phone face down on the table. I stare at it like it’s a ticking time bomb until it buzzes again.
ZANE: Can’t wait xx
No way he really sent “xx.”
I blink and reread the message, feeling like a teenage girl about to kiss a poster on her bedroom wall. Maybe Zane is someone’s poster somewhere. He’s a well-known hockey player, after all.
The rest of the night, I hold my book in my hands but don’t read a single page. Every time I try, thoughts of Zane creep in.
What if he feels bad for me?
What if he actually likes me?
What if this is just friendly?
What if this is the start of something?
What if I’m losing my mind?
He’s Leo’s friend. What if that gets messy?
By the time it’s midnight, my brain has finally worn itself out, and I drift off… though I keep waking up every hour or so to check my phone.