“Ah, good.” He looks relieved. “Because, in fact, I’m considering putting a stake in the ground here. I’ve grown quite fond of this little town and of this cottage. It’s been a long time since I considered putting down roots, but I think it’s time. And I think I might like those roots to be here. I’m planning to come back next summer, as soon as my shooting schedule wraps up.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful!” I smile delightedly. I reallywill miss Henry when he’s gone. “You’ll always have a place here with us. We can be your adopted town.”
“Deal,” he says, and we grin at each other.
I drive home from Henry’s feeling like I could float, buoyed by relief and anticipation. The sunshine filters through the evergreen branches above me on both sides of the road, illuminating the ferns and mossy rocks of the forest that flank the pavement in places. On impulse I pull off into a little turnaround and take the napkin from my purse. I look at the list, then smile a little regretfully as I cross off the first and last items.
To-Do List
•Henry+ Emmie fall in love
• Chocolate shop—need more $ and a name!!!
•Yellow dressthe right yellow dress thatfits!
•Engagement ring + proposal
Henry and I will not fall in love, at least not with each other. He will never get down on one knee in front of me. There will never be an engagement ring in a red leather box. It feels a little bittersweet to cross off those items. I hope someday Henry and I can rejoice with each other over both finding love, maybe share photos of weddings, babies, and grandkids, celebrate our separate full and happy lives. But all we will ever be is friends. And although I feel a little dart of regret at what I once dreamed of, it also feels right and good to let that dream go. My heart is not Henry’s. It couldn’t be. There has always been something between Jakob and me. I was a fool to ignore it and try to twist my heart into a shape it did not want to be in. But now I’m taking my pretzel of a heart and untwisting it. I’m setting it free.
I look at the list again. I am taking my life into my own hands and rewriting everything. It feels like a huge risk. I don’t know what happens next, but I know what I want. I’m not sure it’s possible, but as my dad told me when I was nervous about trying to get into the elite chocolatier program in Switzerland, “Emmie, girl, you will miss out on one hundred percent of the jobs you don’t apply for.”
Boy, was he right.
I scrawl another point on the list along with a big fat question mark.
• Jakob?
I screwed up and hurt him…again. I’m not sure he’ll give me another chance. But I have to tell him the truth. I have to tell him how I feel. So I take a deep breath and head toward town, knowing this is the next right step, regardless of the outcome. I don’t know what he’ll say, but right now I can’t worry about that. That is up to Jakob to decide. Right now I need to locate a taciturn Norse demigod and share my heart with him.
* * *
Jakob’s phone isoff. It’s a few minutes till noon when I get to Kristensen’s Bakery, hoping to find Jakob behind the counter, but it is his mother Astrid who is standing behind the bakery cases. The air is warm and fragrant with sweet dough, yeast, and sugary glaze.
“Hello, Emmie,” she says. Her tone is cool, and she eyes me with a touch of caution. “What can I get for you today?”
Astrid is a tall, curvy woman with graying blonde hair pulled into a tight bun. She has a strong work ethic, a generous, motherly heart, and the same arctic-blue eyes as Jakob. She and Gunnarmake an unlikely pair. Once, I loved Astrid like a second mother. She welcomed me with open arms. But when I came back from Europe, I found her polite but distant on the occasional times when we’d run into each other in town. I’ve always assumed she blamed me for breaking her son’s heart. I understand, but I miss the easy way we used to have with one another.
“I’m looking for Jakob?” I’m suddenly very nervous. “He’s not answering his phone.”
She calmly rearranges a display of loaves of sourdough bread. “That probably means he doesn’t want to be reached.” Her tone reveals nothing. I can’t tell if she means reached by me or reached at all. Does she know what happened between her son and me?
I clear my throat. “Do you know where I can find him? It’s…um…urgent.” Not technically, but it feels urgent to me.
Astrid looks up and studies me for a long moment. Then she sighs. “Emmie.” Her tone is gentle, but there is a protectiveness to it. I recognize it, one mother to another. “He’s finally come home to us. He’s taken his rightful place here.” She gestures to the bakery. “He’s happy. Can you not just let him be?”
I’m taken aback by her words.
“I’m not here to hurt Jakob, Astrid. I promise,” I assure her quietly. “I care about him very much.” I glance around me, remember what he said about taking over the family bakery, the resignation in his voice. Does Astrid not see it? Does she not know that he is not, in fact, happy here? It’s none of my business, and I should just keep my mouth shut, but I add spontaneously, “And I don’t think he’s as happy working here as you seem to believe.”
She raises her eyebrows and looks at me in surprise. “What do you mean?”
I hesitate. Jakob is a grown man. This is his truth to tell, notmine. “I think you should ask Jakob if he’s happy,” I say gently. “I think he may be afraid to be completely honest with you because he doesn’t want to disappoint you.”
Astrid scrutinizes me for a long moment. Then she sighs. “Promise me you’ll be careful with my son’s heart,” she asks. There’s a note of resignation in her tone.
“I promise,” I assure her.
“Jakob has a faithful heart,” Astrid tells me, watching me carefully. “He loves wholly and tenaciously. I hope you know what a gift that is.” Her gaze holds a touch of worry.
