Chapter 23
Hours after tryingto apologize to Bishop with a homemade pie and failing spectacularly, I sat on my couch, with a bowl of ice cream balanced precariously on my lap. Mochi relaxed beside me, her attention focused on my melting dessert. We were watching the BBC’s Pride and Prejudice, but even the mini-series couldn’t lift my spirits as it usually did.
“Lizzie, you’re so lucky.” I shoved another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth. “At least your Mr. Darcy realized he loved you before it was too late.”
Mochi let out a soft whimper, placing her paw on my leg.
“Kenzi, dearest,” Lizzie replied from the screen, her tone laced with wit and empathy. “You must give him time. Love is not conquered in a day.”
I blinked. Might be time to switch to low-fat ice cream.
“Ugh, I think I’ve officially hit the deep end of my pity pool.” I stroked my dog’s silky fur. “If I hadn’t lied to Bishop, then I wouldn’t be sitting here in my pajamas imagining Elizabeth Bennet talking to me.”
While I was contemplating whether to drown my sorrows in another pint of rocky road, a knock startled me out of my melancholic stupor. Mochi barked and scampered toward the door.
Pulling myself up from the couch, I pushed the ‘pause’ button on the remote and set my bowl aside.
When I opened the door, I was greeted by the last person I expected to see standing before me—Bishop. The sight of him, broad-shouldered, gorgeous, and intense, made my heart skip a beat, then pound furiously against my ribcage.
“Hey,” he said, his voice low, raspy. “Can I come in, please?”
For about three seconds, my mind wouldn’t turn over. I stared at him blankly, before suddenly remembering I was wearing my flannel dog print sleepwear and combed my fingers through my tangled hair.
“Uh, sure.” I pushed the door wider.
Bishop stepped inside, and Mochi yapped and wagged her tail. He bent over to scratch her behind the ears, then straightened.
I closed the door and smoothed my wrinkled pajama top. “Look, I’m not going to bother you anymore?—”
“I know I haven’t been fair to you and I’m sorry.”
“For what? You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I shouldn’t have shut you out like that. I should’ve come to you sooner…the truth is, I missed you. A lot,” he said, the quirk of his mouth accentuating the crease beneath his lower lip. “I was hurt and angry, but that doesn’t excuse how I treated you. You deserve better. Your letter really got to me, tearing down the walls I put up to keep myself safe.”
“I should’ve been honest with you from the start. I’m sorry too,” I said softly.
Standing in my apartment with Bishop, the heavy sadness that had filled me began dissolving, and for the first time in weeks, I dared to hope we could be friends again.
Bishop moved closer to me, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Furious as I was, and even in those moments I believed I never wanted to see you again, your beautiful face, your haunting smile...clung to me, refusing to fade. It’s like once my heart recognized yours, it just couldn’t let go.”
This intense, brooding man had been haunted by thoughts of me?
My pulse throbbed as he moved nearer still, his tormented gaze holding mine. The air between us shimmered with possibility. Slowly, hesitantly, I reached up to graze his cheek with trembling fingertips. He made a soft, desperate sound, leaning into my palm as it cupped his jaw. In that transcendent moment, our fractured past fell away.
I lowered my arm. “I tried to forget you too, but my heart just wouldn’t let you go either.” I blinked back sudden tears, all the weeks of missing him welling up inside. “Oh, Bishop. I understand now...your passion for baking, your need to excel. It wasn’t about rejecting me, not really.”
“No, it never was.” He took a deep breath, lifting one hand and brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “The last few weeks whenever I baked, every scent that wafted from the oven, every smile I saw on a customer’s face, it reminded me of you. And it wasn’t only memories—everything good in my life bore a resemblance to you. It became maddeningly clear that no matter how upset I was, my world was unmistakably, undeniably intertwined with yours. And as much as I wanted to be angry, to push it all away, love doesn’t work like that. It forgives...I think I was so hurt because I love you so much.”
My breath caught in my chest. Had I heard him right? I studied his face for sincerity, scarcely daring to believe it could be true. But the adoration in his eyes was unmistakable, a mirror of my own overflowing emotions.
“Really?” I whispered, my limbs shaking. “Because you own every broken, beautiful part of my heart. It only ever wants you.”
He inched closer, the distance between us shrinking with every beat of my heart, and took my smaller hands in his larger ones. “From the instant you walked into my bakery, you’ve turned my world upside down. With your sass, charm, and compassion, you made me realize what’s been missing in my life—you.” His hands tightened around mine, his heated gaze never leaving my face. “The way you light up every room you enter, and always try to make the best out of any situation...well, I can’t imagine another day going by without you by my side. I love you more than I can express, and I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy. Tell me I haven’t blown it.”
Hearing his confession, a torrent of emotions swelled within me, overwhelming yet unnamable. My gaze stayed fixed on his, and time seemed to slow down around us, every detail magnified—the intensity in his stare, the subtle shift in his tone. Tears clouded my eyes, and my heart was going to burst from the overwhelming affection I felt for this man. I knew with absolute certainty that I was head-over-heels in love with Bishop.
A tear slipped down my cheek. “I love you, too.”
He kissed my forehead and stepped back, wiping away the tear with his thumb. “Every argument, every misunderstanding—it all led us here, to something real. I’ve never met anyone quite like you, and I never want to let you go.”
“Then let’s start over.” My smile was so big, my cheeks hurt. “Hi, I’m Kenzi Middleton, graphic designer, Janeite, and pet treat artiste. It’s nice to meet you.”
He grinned, too. “I’m Bishop Caine, the owner of a bakery with a soft spot for cute, sassy women. It’s very nice to meet you.”
Bishop wrapped his muscular arms around me, and my hands settled on his waist. My breathing hitched as he lowered his head, our lips meeting in a passionate and tender kiss. It was as if all of our suppressed feelings were being poured into that one moment, igniting an intensity beyond anything I had ever experienced before. The warmth of his body seeped into mine, and I tightened my hold on him, never wanting to let go. Yet, he held me so gently, like I was glass and could break if he held on too tight.
The kiss deepened, igniting a fire within me that I hadn’t known existed. It was more than physical; it was a fusion of souls, a mingling of hearts. It felt like every unsaid word, every pent-up emotion, was being channeled into this one kiss. The taste of him was intoxicating, a mixture of desire and something inexplicably familiar, like a long-lost memory suddenly resurfacing. His lips moved against mine with a fervor that spoke of longing and love, of pain and healing, all at once.
When we slowly parted, both of us were breathless. All the hurt and lies had been swept away, replaced with tenderness, love, and affection.
“Wow,” I whispered.
“Wow indeed,” he said, his voice husky.
A smirk curled my lips. “For a baker, you sure know how to sweep a girl off her feet.”
He chuckled. “That’s because I specialize in crafting sweet things. And if that kiss was any indication, I’d say my skills are quite multifaceted. Almost a match for your feisty attitude.”
Giggling, I nudged him with my elbow. “Oh, trust me, there’s plenty more sass where that came from. You’ve only had a sample.”
He leaned in, his stubbly cheek warm against my face, and whispered, “Then I look forward to the full menu.”