Chapter 7
Gwen
I’m such an idiot.
Of course, he doesn’t want to be seen with someone like me. What was I thinking? Why did I ever believe I had even the slightest chance?
This wasn’t a date.
That’s why he let go of my hand.
It wasn’t a date, and he didn’t want to be seen with me.
Frustration surges through me as I shove my apartment door open and slam it shut behind me. The sound echoes louder than it should, but I don’t care.
I’m angry at myself.
How could I let myself believe this was even an option? How could I think someone like him would ever?
My phone buzzes.
My stomach flips.
I don’t want to look. I don’t want to deal with this.
But I do anyway.
ZANE: I’m sorry our date ended this way. Can we talk?
For a second, something softer rises; he’s trying. He’s still here.
Then the sharper part of my brain cuts in.
I might not be the most confident woman in the world, but I deserve to be seen.
If he’s embarrassed to be in a picture with me, then he shouldn’t be spending time with me.
I exhale slowly, forcing the feeling down, and grab my favorite book by Rina Kent before climbing into bed.
What’s another date gone wrong?
The next morning, my alarm drills into my brain like a toddler with a drum set.
When I check my phone, I see two missed calls from Tess.
Of course.
I sit up and take a breath. I don’t feel like telling her how it went, but I know I’m going to have to.
Twenty minutes later, I’m ready. Five minutes after that, I’m at the bakery.
“How was it?” Tess calls the second the door opens.
“Good morning,” I reply, heading straight for the coffeemaker.
“Don’t do that,” she says, following me. “How was the date?”
I take a sip of coffee that’s too hot and wince before answering.
“I thought it was going well,” I admit. “He was nice. He seemed interested.” I pause, staring into my cup. “I almost forgot he’s… him.”
The memory hits again, sharp and unwelcome.
“A couple was sitting next to us,” I continue. “And Zane had his hand on mine.”
“Oh my God, that’s so cute,” Tess cuts in, already smiling.
“But when the girl tried to take a picture like sneaky, paparazzi-style, he dropped my hand.”
Tess’s smile fades.
“He did?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I say, forcing a shrug. “He definitely didn’t want to be seen with me.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Tess says immediately.
I glance at her.
“First of all, what is there to be embarrassed about?” she continues. “Second, he knew who you were before he asked you out, right? Why would that suddenly change?”
I hesitate.
“Are you sure it was about you?” she adds. “Could it have been something else?”
For a second, doubt flickers.
But I shake it off.
“I really can’t think of anything else,” I say. “Anyway… it was fine. A couple of good hours.”
The laugh that follows feels thin, even to me.
Tess studies me, but doesn’t push.
“Don’t let this get to you,” she says gently before heading back to work.
The rest of the morning settles into routine.
We prep. We open. The regulars come in.
Normal.
I’m just about to enjoy my break with coffee and a croissant when my phone buzzes again.
Tess notices immediately, her expression sharpening.
I glance down.
ZANE: Can we talk? Let me know when it’s a good time to call you.
My chest tightens.
What is there left to talk about?
I’ve been humiliated enough.
“Is it him?” Tess asks.
I nod and hand her my phone.
“Is he worried I’m going to badmouth him in the press or something?” I joke, but it comes out defensive.
Tess doesn’t laugh.
“Maybe it was a misunderstanding,” she says simply.
“I doubt it.”
I take my phone back and head toward the alley, needing space.
I’m ending this now.
Before it drags on.
Before it hurts any more.
I take a steadying breath.
Then I hit call.
“Hey,” Zane says softly. From the background noise, I can tell he’s outside, cars passing, distant voices, the low hum of the city.
“Hi,” I reply. “Look… there’s no need to do this. I understand what happened. I don’t blame you.”
A couple of seconds pass in silence.
“Just traffic,” he says quietly, as if he’s still there, still thinking.
Then, “I think we need to talk face to face.”
Before I can stop myself, the words come out sharper than intended.
“I think I’ve had enough of being out in public like that. I don’t deserve to feel this way.”
As soon as I say it, I realize how cold I sound. But I don’t know how else to feel right now.
“What’s your address?” Zane asks, catching me off guard.
“Why?” I ask cautiously.
“Because I’m not going to let you sit there feeling like this all day,” he says. “Even the time it takes me to get to you feels too long.”
His words land differently. Softer. Grounding.
It eases something tight in my chest.
“It’s ok, Zane. You really don’t have to,” I reply.
“It was near the pharmacy, right?”
“Well… I’m at work right now,” I tell him.
“Ok. Meet me outside in five.”
“It really isn’t necessary.”
“I’ll be there in five,” he repeats, and the line goes dead.
I lower the phone slowly.
“Everything good?” Tess asks, poking her head into the alley.
“Zane’s coming over in five. He wants to talk face to face.”
“Good,” she says with a small smile.
I follow her back inside.
Inside, I move quickly, wiping down the counter, trying to stay busy, trying not to think.
The bell above the door rings.
My stomach flips instantly.
I run a hand through my hair and take a steady breath.
“Hi,” I say, unsure where this is going.
I’ve already decided that if Zane tries to explain why he didn’t want to be seen with me, I’m going to stop him. I can’t handle that conversation here. Not like this. Not in front of people. Not in front of him.
“Hey,” Zane replies, scratching the back of his neck.
I grab two coffees without saying a word, then lead him toward the alley.
“Here,” I say, handing him one.
“Thanks.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to keep my tone neutral.
Zane takes a moment, taking in the space, the cracked walls, the dumpsters, the quiet edges of the building.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about how things ended last night,” he says.
Something in my chest loosens slightly.
“I really enjoyed getting to know you,” he adds, looking back at me with a small smile. “I still have so many questions.”
“Like what?” I ask, surprised, pushing back the instinct to assume the worst.
“Like… what keeps you up at night? What do you want for your future? What’s your favorite food? What kind of sports do you like? Have you always wanted to be a baker?” He exhales lightly. “The list goes on, Gwen. I didn’t want things to end the way they did.”
I fall silent for a moment, trying to process everything he’s saying.
“Why do you want to know all of that about me?” I ask, the question slipping out before I can filter it.
Zane shifts slightly, as if gathering himself.
“I’m not great at this,” he admits. “So I’ll just say it.”
My breath stills.
“Ever since we met, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I like you, Gwen. I want to know you.”
The words hit me harder than I expect.
I’m completely caught off guard.
“Then what about the picture?” I ask immediately, because my mind refuses to accept anything positive. “You obviously didn’t want to be seen with me.”
Zane straightens, his expression sharpening.
“That’s what you thought?” he asks. “That I didn’t want to be seen with you, and that’s why I let go when they tried to take the picture?”
I nod.
“What else could it have been?” I ask, more defensively than I intend.
He exhales, dragging a hand over his face.
“It’s my life,” he says. “And I don’t want to complain about it, because I know how lucky I am. I’ve had incredible opportunities. But there’s a cost to it.”
He looks at me directly now.
“Once you’re in the media like I am, people recognize you. They watch you. They judge you. And they think they know you when they don’t know a single thing.”
His tone softens slightly.
“I was trying to protect you, Gwen. If a picture of me holding your hand ends up online, people will come after you.”
His words settle between us.
My eyes sting, and I hate that they do.
“You let go because you didn’t want people to see you with me,” I say quietly. “I’ve seen the girls you’ve dated. I’m nothing like them. I understand what you’re trying to say, Zane, but don’t treat me like I’m naive.”
I swallow.
“You can’t be seen with someone who’s my… size.”
Zane’s expression shifts instantly, his jaw tightens, his eyes darken.
“Are you serious?” he asks, his voice lower now, controlled but edged.
“An athlete and a fat girl don’t work together,” I continue, bracing myself for whatever comes next.
Zane steps closer.
“Gwen, stop,” he says firmly. “Just stop.”
His tone isn’t angry.
It’s steady. Grounded. Certain.
“I think you’re gorgeous,” he says, his voice even. “I think you’re a beautiful woman. Smart. Funny. And yes, sexy.”
The words land all at once.
My breath catches.
For a moment, my mind can’t decide whether this is real or something I’ll wake up from.
“You don’t think we’re too different?” I ask quietly, searching his face.
“I don’t care if we’re the most different people on the planet,” he replies without hesitation. “You haven’t left my mind since we met. I want to know you. Everything about you.”
His gaze holds mine.
“I’m attracted to you, Gwen.”
My eyebrows knit slightly, my thoughts struggling to keep up with my emotions.
“I don’t know how to prove to you that I think you’re amazing,” he continues. “I want to hold your hand. I want to be close to you. I want to really know you.”
His voice softens at the end.
Zane steps closer again, and I remain rooted in place, the quiet of the alley pressing in around us.
“I only let go of your hand because I didn’t have the chance to explain what my life is like,” he adds. “What dating me could mean. This wouldn’t be… normal.”
I let out a small breath.
“I don’t want normal,” I whisper.
“Then what do you want?” he asks.
“I’m not sure,” I admit.
“Are you willing to figure it out?” he asks, a small smile forming, one that slowly eases the tension between us.
My defenses begin to slip.
“I think so,” I say.
And for the first time since last night, my heart feels like it’s moving toward something instead of away from it.
“I want to date you, Gwen. We’ll do it on your terms. You decide when and how you want to be seen. But please… give me a chance,” Zane says.
I blink, still trying to process it.
Zane Miller is asking me out again.
This incredibly handsome, kind man wants to date me.
Me.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
Zane’s expression shifts, something more serious settling in his eyes.
“I don’t know how else to tell you how much I like you,” he says. “I want to kiss you, to touch you, to be with you. I want you in my life, Gwen.”
A beat passes.
“You could’ve just asked me out, you know,” I say, attempting to lighten the moment.
He rolls his eyes, a grin tugging at his lips.
“So is that a yes, Sassypants?”
“Sassypants?”
“You’re the queen of being cheeky. It only makes sense.”
“Only if I get to call you Macho Man,” I shoot back.
Zane laughs. “You think I’m macho?”
“No, but it’s the best I could come up with,” I admit with a laugh.
“Sassy,” he says, softer now, “will you go on a new first date with me?”
“Yes,” I say.
Something in my chest finally loosens.
“Good. Be ready at 7 p.m. on Friday,” he says as he stands.
“Why?” I ask, confused.
“Because we’re going on a new first date,” he replies with a smirk.
I can’t help but laugh as I nod.