I turn my head, just slightly, and find his face inches from mine. His eyes are dark, conflicted, wanting.
“Yeah?”
“I should—” He stops. Swallows. “We should check on the brioche.”
“Right. The brioche.” I step to the side, finally, and the loss of his warmth feels like a physical ache. “Definitely. The brioche is very important.”
He moves to the mixer, and I watch his shoulders tense like he’s fighting with himself about something. When he speaks again, his voice is carefully neutral. “After this proofs, it needs to go in the fridge overnight. So we’re basically done for now.”
“Oh.” I try not to feel disappointed. “Okay.”
“But.” He turns to face me. “If you want to come back tomorrow morning, I’m making those cinnamon rolls. The twins love them, and I thought maybe you could learn how to make them. So you can surprise the girls sometime. I mean, if you want.”
He’s giving me an out. A reason to come back that has nothing to do with him and everything to do with Ava and Mia.
But we both know that’s not the real reason I’m here at five in the morning.
“I’d like that,” I say softly.
“Good.” His smile is small but genuine. “Good.”
We clean up in silence, moving around each other with an ease that feels practiced despite the fact that we’ve only done this once. When everything’s put away and the kitchen is spotless, Jonah walks me to the back door.
“Thanks for coming,” he says. “For helping.”
“Thanks for teaching me.” I pull my too-thin jacket tighter. “Same time tomorrow?”
“Same time tomorrow.”
I should leave. Should walk out the door and go back to the house and crawl into bed for another hour before the twins wake up.
Instead, I stand there, looking up at him in the dim light of the bakery, and say, “Jonah?”
“Yeah?”
“I like being here. Just so you know.”
His eyes search mine, and for a moment I think he’s going to say something important. Something that will change everything.
But instead, he just nods. “I like having you here.”
It’s not a declaration. It’s barely even an admission.
But it feels like something.
And I like something.
Chapter 6
Jonah
“No,Daddy, you’re doing the wolf voice all wrong!”
I look up from the book to find both twins staring at me with identical expressions of disappointment. It’s seven-thirty at night, and we’re in their room. Ava and Mia tucked into their matching beds, surrounded by stuffed animals and the soft glow of the star nightlight.
“What’s wrong with my wolf voice?” I ask, genuinely confused.
“It’s not scary enough,” Mia explains with the patience of someone talking to a small child. “Wolves are supposed to be scary.”
