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While dessert was being brought in, Riley put on his own robe and retrieved Thorne’s Christmas present from his suitcase. He joined Thorne in the dining area where Thorne was examining the bounty of sweets they’d ordered.
“I know it’s not Christmas quite yet,” Riley said, “but you gave me my present early and I… Well, I think this is a good moment to give you yours.”
Thorne looked away from a gorgeous piece of cheesecake. “I don’t mind early gifts at all, but I told you I didn’t need anything.”
He handed Thorne the package. “This isn’t about whether you need it or not. I wanted to do this for you.”
Thorne carefully unwrapped the books. Riley knew the moment when he realized what they were because Thorne’s face lit up. “You found Winter Holiday too.”
“I knew it was the one you liked second best.”
“Riley, I… Thank you.”
Thorne set the books down and pulled Riley into his arms.
Riley fought back tears. “I’m sorry I tore up the other one.”
“It’s okay. It’s more than okay. I have you. Don’t get me wrong. I love these books, but you… You’re my real Christmas present.”
Riley kissed him, but when he pulled away he couldn’t help but laugh. “This marriage stuff really has turned you sappy.”
“Shut up and eat some damn cake.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
When Thorne woke the next morning, Riley was watching him, a soft smile on this face.
“Ah, so you are awake.”
“Just,” Thorne answered, his voice hoarse from sleep. “Were you planning to stare at me until I woke up?”
Riley brushed Thorne’s hair back from his face. “No, just watching you because I enjoy it.”
“What time is it?”
“Nine.”
“Really?” Thorne never slept that late.
“We were up late, and I wore you out.”
He remembered vividly.
“You okay?”
“Pleasantly sore.”
Riley grinned. “Good. I’d hate to have put you out of commission for today.”
“We’d find something to do no matter how sore I was. But first, there’s a place I want to take you for breakfast. Since we slept late, the morning rush will have ended.”
“What kind of place?”
“I need to show it to you. If I try to describe it, I might ruin it.”
Riley studied him.
“You’ll love it. Trust me.”
“I do.”
***
They walked over to Eighth Avenue and turned left. When they were almost to Fifty-Sixth Street, Thorne pointed to a sign. Alexander’s was all it said, but Riley saw beautiful loaves of bread and pastries displayed in the window. There were a few metal tables on the sidewalk and a cozy eating area inside.
Thorne pushed the door open, and a bell jingled, a real one like he’d chosen for A Dash of Perfection, not an electronic buzzer. Riley’s first impression was dark wood, rich coffee, and the scent of cinnamon rolls.
He laid a hand on Thorne’s arm. “This. This is what I want to do.”
Thorne nodded. “I thought so.”
Riley was too busy taking things in to say more—the display case filled with so much goodness, from Napoleons to plain croissants, cupcakes, and Danishes; the parquet floor, the tables that were painted different colors: brick red, French country blue, sunshine yellow, shiny black. The room was inviting enough that customers would long to stay there for hours, drinking coffee, talking, eating, and they’d come back. “I’m in love.”
“And that is how people will feel about A Dash of Perfection.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“The one thing I’ve never ever doubted is that you can do this, Riley. You’re an amazing baker. You talk to all kinds of people easily, and you know exactly what they want to eat.”
Riley was wowed once again. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
“I needed you to see this possibility,” Thorne said. “Now let’s get something to eat.”
Riley took a step toward the counter, but then Thorne pulled him back and whispered, “A word of warning, the food isn’t as good as yours.”
“Thorne.”
“I’m serious.”
They got in line. When it was their turn, Thorne ordered coffee for both of them and a Danish for himself. Riley decided to try a cinnamon bun. Once they had their treats, they chose a table looking out on the street.
“I feel like I’m in a movie,” Riley said. “This place is so perfect, and out there is so…New York.”
“Then I’ve accomplished what I wanted to.”
Riley smiled. “You have.”
“And now I’m determined to travel more with you.”
“Paris next?” Riley asked.
Thorne lit up. “Yes! It’s just as amazing as you think.”
“Really?”
Thorne nodded.
Riley took a bite of his cinnamon bun. He considered the balance of cinnamon and sugar, the icing. It was good, really good, but…it wasn’t as good as his and Susan’s.
He glanced up at Thorne who had his brow raised. “See? I was right.”
“You were. Let me taste your Danish.”
Thorne’s Danish was beautifully flaky. The filling was homemade, real jam, but not as flavorful as Susan’s.
“Shit, we really are good,” Riley said.
“Yes, you are. You don’t even realize how much.”
