Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Noah
I bustle around Alexis's kitchen, making sure that everything is in perfect order. The focaccia is fresh out of the oven, the Caesar salad waits on the table, the still-bubbling lasagna sits on the stove, and the gelato is in the freezer, ready for dessert. There’s only one piece missing, and she should be walking through the door at any moment.
The sound of the door knob turning makes me spin around, and there Alexis is, hanging up her purse and smiling in surprise.
“Wait.” She laughs. “Did you make dinner?”
“Of course. Why did you think I asked to have free rein of your house for half a day?”
She chuckles and makes her way over to me. “I don’t know. I figured you had some kind of surprise in mind.”
My heart drops a little. Is dinner not big enough? There are other things I want to do for her, of course. Specifically, take her on a trip, just the two of us. That will have to wait until I can hire more Rye Again staff, though. For now, the bakery still needs me there every day.
I’m about to apologize for not concocting a grander surprise, but then I catch sight of her face. She looks on the verge of tears.
“Thank you,” she murmurs. “This means a lot to me.”
“It’s just dinner,” I mumble, even though it’s exactly the reaction I hoped for.
“It’s more than dinner. It’s your time.” She slips out of my hold. “Is it ready? I’m starving.”
“Yep. You’re here at the perfect time.”
I serve us each a plate, explaining that the meal is free of the trigger foods she has so far identified: anchovies, chili flakes, Worcestershire sauce, yogurt, paprika, and chocolate.
The kitchen windows are open to the evening summer breeze, and the sounds of the neighborhood fill the room as we sit down to eat.
“How was the co-working space today?” I pour us each a glass of wine.
“Good. I couldn’t wait to get home, though.” She grins.
“I guess that’s a sign of a good work-home life balance.”
“I wanted to see you.” She reaches across the table for my hand. “I rewatched some of your videos today. I missed you so much.”
Warmth bursts from my chest. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yes. I’d already seen them all, but?—”
“You’ve watched them all?” I laugh in disbelief. “I have almost a hundred.”
“I know.” She gets busy cutting her lasagna, avoiding my eyes. “If you really want to know, I watched them all when we weren’t talking.”
Any mention of our time apart is a blow to my soul. I’d rather forget that period even exists.
“I was thinking about starting a new video series,” I say, eager to change the subject.
“Oh, yeah?” She looks up, eyebrows raised. “About what?”
“I would compare different baking processes with sourdough starters that are made with wheat and rye flours. And, uh, I wanted to ask if you’d like to make the videos with me?”
She freezes, eyes big. “Really?”
“Absolutely.” I take a long sip of wine, nerves getting to me. I’ve been thinking about this project for days, amping myself up at the possibility of us working together on something other than my book.
There are multiple reasons why she wouldn’t want to do it, though, and I’d understand each and every one of them.
“You’re not worried about what people would say?” She puts her fork down. “About you and I working together? We’ve gotten so much backlash already…”
“Fuck ’em.”
She laughs out loud. “Really?”
“Yeah. Positive.”
She sucks in a long breath. “I agree with you, and even with the rumors it’s not like it would be a bad idea. There’s no such thing as bad press, right? Views are views.”
“Exactly,” I say, though the buzz of us doing a series together isn’t the driving force behind this idea. Alexis has turned into something of a muse for me, her love for trying breads inspiring new ideas. “You could be my official taste tester. What do you think?”
“I love it.” She tilts her head in contemplation. “I have an idea. My friends and I could make outfits for the starter jars. That way each one can wear a new outfit every video.”
I let the proposition sink in. Something silly like that would be different from any of the content I’ve produced so far, but maybe a little shake up is exactly what I need. If nothing else, the outfits will certainly set me apart from other baking channels. “I love it. Let’s do it.”
“Awesome.” She raises her wine glass, and we cheer to the new plan.
The conversation moves on to talk about my plans for self-publishing the sourdough book and whether Alexis will be moving to a house on the island that has a bigger backyard.
I bite my tongue when I want to suggest we move in together, because technically we’ve only been back together for a few days and—logically—I know that’s too soon for living together.
But I want it. Not now. But one day. Sooner rather than later.
We’ve already been through so much. I don’t need to ride any more highs and lows to see that we make a good team, that the woman sitting across from me is the one I want to come home to every night.
“How about some dessert?” I ask as I clear our empty plates.
“Yes, please.” She sidles up to me, hands slipping around to find my ass.
I laugh as her grip tightens. “I was talking about gelato.”
“Oh.” Her face falls. “That’s good, too. I like gelato.”
But it’s too late. A taste for something other than gelato has taken hold. “Can I eat it off of you?” I tug her closer.
She laughs and tosses her hair over her shoulder. “You don’t need gelato. You can eat me without it.”
A growl, raw and animalistic, rolls up my throat. “Be careful what you wish for.”
She steps back, hands on my shoulders. “Hey, with my flare over…”
“Uh huh?” I dig my fingers into her hips.
She searches my eyes. “I’d like to go further.”
I can barely speak, I nearly choke on my excitement. “You sure?”
She nods eagerly. “Of course. I want you to know that it won’t—we’ll still have to be careful. It won’t be like what you’re probably used to, I?—”
“Alexis.” I gently take hold of her face. “It will be amazing, because it’s with you. The only woman in the whole world that I want to share things like this with.”
Her eyes glisten. “I believe you.”
Still holding her face, I press my lips to hers. The familiar warmth floods my system, and for the hundredth time I wonder how I ever survived without her touch. We’re woven back together now, a braid that never should have been undone, and it seems I can’t get enough of her.
She presses into me, deepening the kiss. Walking her backwards, I guide us into her bedroom. The familiar smell of lavender greets us, the thin curtains fluttering with the evening’s breeze. It’s perfect, but not because of the atmosphere or the setting.
It’s perfect because it’s her. It’s us.
“I love you.” The words slip so easily from my mouth, like any other exhale.
“I love you, too,” she murmurs back.
I settle in next to her on the bed, drawing her into my arms. The crickets chirp on the other side of the window, and the fireflies light up the night. And here we are, just two people, exactly where they’re supposed to be.