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I didn't know whether to throw myself into his arms or shout and scream.
He quietened everyone down, then held up a sheet of paper with what looked like some kind of blueprint on it. "I made this a few weeks ago. While you were at your interview."
"What is it?" I asked.
"My idea was, if you didn't get into the pastry school, you could set up a bakery right here, in your dad's old bar. That's why I called it Plan B. But you can change the name, of course."
"Cole, I'm not qualified to run a bakery."
He fixed me with an intense look. "Of course you are, El. You are an incredibly talented baker and a ridiculously headstrong woman. There is nothing you can't do." Then, he flashed me one of the kindest, sexiest grins I'd ever seen. "Plus, I'd be working for you a couple days a week, to keep you on the straight and narrow."
I looked over the plan. He'd drawn in commercial ovens and had opened up the front of the bar to create a seating area on the pavement. He'd added a staff room, and most special of all, a beautiful serving area. Written on the sheet of paper was, “We’ll get your dad’s old countertop out of the warehouse for this.”
"I'm not a trained architect, but I think I've got a pretty good idea of space,” he said. “And you taught me something very important, El. You don't need anyone else to give you permission to try. You don't need a piece of paper that says you're a trained chef to make the literal best thing I've ever eaten."
"My apple pie?" I choked out.
"Your apple pie."
"It's only good because it’s my mom's recipe."
"No. It's good because of the love you pour into it."
I felt tears in my eyes. "Cole," I said, "I lied to you. I didn't get into the pastry school."
Cole looked at me for a few moments, clearly processing this. "I'm sorry, Elara. I'm sorry that you felt you had to lie about it. But I understand why you did."
"You do?"
"Of course. You were protecting yourself. You thought I didn't have feelings for you. You thought I wanted you to leave and go to New York. You thought you were only worth something if you got into that damn place. Which, by the way, doesn’t know what it’s missing by not taking you.”
I choked out a laugh. I’d been waiting to hear those words from Cole for so long. To hear him supporting me like he always did.
“I should have told you the truth from the start,” I said.
“We were both telling each other white lies. I told you I didn’t care about you because I thought it was what you needed to hear. I wanted to make sure you didn’t give up on your dreams because of me. I didn’t think I could make you happy in the long run. I wasn’t part of your dreams. So I told you that you weren’t part of mine.”
My eyes pricked with tears. “It hurt me so much when you said that.”
Cole nodded. “It hurt me, too. Because I love you so much that it killed me not to tell you about it.”
I trembled as he came closer.
"I loved you ever since you jumped out at me in that ghost costume.”
"Cole," I said, "I love you, too. I’ve loved you ever since I was a girl, before I even knew what love was."
When he kissed me, it was like breathing. Like I'd been holding my breath for two months, and finally, I was getting air. The oxygen of his love rushed into me, and my senses came alive. I sucked it all in—the goodness, the light, the power. He pushed his lips against mine and I tasted him, tasted life, tasted his belief in me.
"I really do love you,” I murmured against his mouth. “I love you so much I almost flunked my pastry course on purpose.”
“I love you so much I became romantic.”
I laughed.
The happiness on his face was beautiful.
All around us, the crowd of onlookers erupted into cheers and applause. I heard Lily whooping with excitement. But all I cared about was the embrace of the man who I loved.
