She waves at Norah, tosses the guys a knowing look, and then disappears into the crowd with the efficiency of someone who knows she’ll be busy from dawn till dusk tomorrow.
I exhale slowly.
Norah turns to me, linking her arm through mine. “Okay. Enough mooning over the booth. We’ve got pastries to plan if you don’t want to run out tomorrow.”
That’s a good point. The pie contest is tomorrow, but the booth itself has to survive the entire festival weekend. I’ll need more than pies to keep people hanging around.
“You’re right,” I murmur, glancing back at the guys. “Thanks again,” I call, waving as they prepare to head back.
Beau flashes me that cinnamon grin. Levi lifts a hand in his quiet way. Simon tilts his head at me like he can see straight into my chest, even across the square.
Then they go, the three of them disappearing through the crowd, and I can still feel the warmth of their presence long after they’re gone.
Back inside the café, the quiet wraps around me like an apron, and I roll my shoulders. Norah drops her bag on a chair and heads straight for the counter. “Do we have everything?”
I nod. “Sugar, flour, butter. Enough for at least three batches of muffins and cookies, plus scones if I start early.”
Norah claps her hands once. “Perfect. Then let’s get to work.”
We start prepping, the two of us moving in sync, the way only best friends can. She chops apples while I measure cinnamon. She rolls out the dough while I set up the trays.
For a while, it’s just the sound of mixing bowls and the low hum of the oven preheating. But as I scoop filling into pastryshells, my mind wanders, circling back to the conversation from earlier.
“Norah,” I say carefully, “have you… seen him yet?”
Her hands still for a fraction of a second, then resume. “Dorian?” She shakes her head, tossing her braid back over her shoulder. “No. And he knows better than to come near me.”
“Are you okay?”
She chuckles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m fine. That was years ago. We were kids who thought we knew everything. He wanted one thing, I wanted another, and in the end, we walked separate ways. Best thing that could’ve happened, honestly.”
There’s a sharpness in her voice, a shield she puts up whenever the past brushes too close. I don’t push. She’s told me bits and pieces—enough to know Dorian hurt her in ways that left marks she doesn’t show.
I nod, sliding a tray into the oven. “If you say so.”
She levels me with a look, softer this time. “I do.” Then she tilts her head, studying me. “But enough about me. How are you handling your men?”
Heat rushes up my neck before I can stop it. “My—they’re not?—”
“Oh, please.” She grins, wicked and warm all at once. “I’ve known you too long, Wren. You’ve got that glow.”
“What glow?” I mutter, turning to busy myself with the flour.
“The glow of someone who’s thoroughly adored.” She laughs when I swat at her. “Don’t bother denying it. I saw the way they looked at you today. And I saw the way you looked back.”
I press my lips together, but she’s not wrong. The truth sits heavy in my chest, warm and terrifying. I’ve never been so happy. Never felt so… full.
It’s overwhelming, this sense that three men care about me, not for what I can give them, not because they want control, but because they see me.
Norah’s voice softens. “You deserve it, you know. After everything.”
I blink hard, fighting tears again. “I don’t even know how to handle it.”
“Don’t overthink.” She squeezes my hand across the counter. “Just… let yourself have it.”
The oven timer dings, breaking the moment, and I slide out a tray of golden scones. The smell of butter and cinnamon fills the air.
I close my eyes and breathe it in.
