She was weaving her way toward us with a tray balanced on her hand and that half-smile that lived somewhere between exasperation and invitation. The snowlight caught in her hair like it remembered how to flirt.
I straightened, completely forgetting how spatulas worked.
“Morning,” she said, setting her tray down beside me.
“Hey,” I managed. “You, uh, surviving?”
“Barely,” she said. “Riley cut me off after three hot chocolates. Apparently that’s the ‘legal limit for Christmas cheer.’”
“Rookie move,” I said. “She didn’t see you before caffeine.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Oh, she saw me. I think she’s filing a report.”
“Occupational hazard.” I flipped a pancake, slid it onto a plate, and handed it over. “Here. Chef’s special.”
“What’s in it?”
“Mostly hope. Some batter.”
She took the plate, but not before brushing my fingers with hers—accidentally, allegedly. “You should market that. Hopecakes. Very on brand for this town.”
“I’ll trademark it,” I said. “Fifty percent goes to the cocoa fund.”
“Generous,” she said, laughing softly. It sounded like relief disguised as banter.
For a second, I let myself imagine this morning as permanent—her teasing me while I burned breakfast, Lydia running logistics, Callum pretending not to notice. A life that didn’t need rebuilding because it already fit.
And then fate, punctual as ever, decided to mess with me.
Janey.
Of course it was Janey. Standing three steps behind Melanie, holding two paper cups and smiling like nostalgia that didn’t know when to leave.
The air went weird. The back of my neck prickled. My hands remembered guilt before my brain caught up.
“Breakfast line starts by the stage,Sawyer!” Callum called helpfully without looking up.
Melanie turned slightly, voice level. “It’s okay.”
The calm in her tone shut down every sound in the room for a heartbeat. She looked back at me, eyes clear, unreadable.
Then she said, perfectly steady, “I told Janey I’m your girlfriend and she has a house to rent. I’m the new renter.”
For a beat, my brain just… rebooted.
Janey grinned. “I congratulated her on taming the beast.”
Melanie tilted her head, that sly glint returning. “You aretameable,right?”
I blinked, spatula dangling uselessly. “Depends who’s asking.”
For the first time in longer than I could remember, I didn’t mind my past brushing shoulders with my future. Not when the future was looking at me like that with a steady, amused, and a little smug expression for saving us both.
Callum flipped bacon behind me, muttering, “Guess I’ll put out aCongratulations on Surviving Emotional Wintercard.”
Melanie grinned and reached for a pancake. “I’ll sign it first.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
