“Hard worker, sweetheart, short temper, the best friend I’ve ever had, solid corn hole thrower, likes you.” He pauses. “Do the work, donut boss.”
“Don’t give up,” I call.
“You either,” he says, then clears his throat and addresses Ashton. “So, I guess…I’ll text you later?”
“Oh, sure,” Ashton says. “Yeah, good luck at the game.”
“Thanks.” The door opens. Closes.
A pregnant pause, and then I pop up from behind the counter so fast I nearly hit my head. “You little hussy! I cannot believe you just turned him down! How… why… what… wait…”
Ashton looks over her shoulder, brow arched. “You were fooling nobody sitting behind the counter that entire time, hiding and clutching your coins like Gollum from The Lord of the Rings.”
“Yes,” I say, stabbing a point at her. “But that’s not what this is about. You just turned him down.”
“Well, yeah,” she says, voice obvious. “How many girls do you think he invites on his yacht per week? He’s gonna have to work harder than that.”
I’m speechless. I stare at her. Hard. I have nothing to really say. I can’t even defend him because she could be right, probably is, but still, why not take a chance? Take a leap?
Ashton goes on her merry way. I almost laugh. Because that’s the thing about Ashton, she makes it look effortless. She can turndown the NFL’s golden boy without flinching, without second-guessing, without spiraling into what-ifs. Meanwhile, I’m over here still debating whether my last text to Nathan sounded too enthusiastic. God, what I wouldn’t give to borrow just an ounce of her confidence.
We finish closing the bakery just after dusk. Ashton finally hands me her chaotic little gift box with a proud flourish.
“Don’t open it in public,” she warns. “Or do. I’m not responsible.”
I laugh, locking the door behind us as we step out onto the sidewalk.
And then I see it.
A white horse, waiting at the curb.
Hitched to a small, elegant carriage lit with soft lanterns.
“Ashton…” I whisper.
She grabs my arm. “Shut up. No way. NO WAY.”
The driver tips his hat. “Miss Cooper?”
My mouth falls open. “Uh… yes?”
“This ride is for you,” he says warmly.
Ashton shoves me toward the carriage. “Get in,Miss Cooper.”
The lantern light glows golden on the seats. It’s warm, cozy, magical in a way that feels unreal. The city passes slowly, peacefully, the soft clink of the harness bells echoing in the night.
“This is insane,” Ashton whispers. “And also, the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen.”
I can’t stop smiling. It feels like a dream, like a moment suspended in time, like someone wanted my birthday to feel… special.
When we arrive, the driver helps us down.
“Happy birthday, Miss Cooper,” he says before pulling away.
I stand on the sidewalk, confused and glowing at the same time.
“Who did that?” Ashton asks.
