Chittering a wicked laugh, I raced back to the bedroom, dove under the covers, and tucked them under my chin. I wriggled in the warm sheets, too excited—or was thategg-cited—to sleep. But as the dull chirp of birds sang and the sun climbed over the mountains, my eyes drooped, and I fell back asleep.
A few hours later, as I padded to the kitchen, a yawn caught in my throat as I reached for the kettle.
Wait!
I dashed to the front door and cracked it open.
More eggs. And my cake was gone.
I sagged against the wood, my hand pressed over my racing heart, the silliest grin on my face.
Aiden.
Oh, I hope he liked the cake! I wished I could watch him take his first bite. My imagination spun out of control, a tingle rippling over my skin at the thought of the gruff thank you he’d murmur before pressing a kiss to my cheek…
Almost giddy, my head fell back against the door with a sigh. Would I have enough Sundays and different recipes to make that dream a reality?
Please.
By the following Saturday,I still hadn’t settled on my next creation to surprise Aiden.
Brooke bounced along beside me as I wandered around the market stalls. I only half-listened to her recap the latest episode of her favourite TV show, my fingertips absently skimming the edge of each table we passed, lost in thought.
Lemon… Carrot… Maybe Aiden would enjoy something unexpected like a brown butter cheesecake…
Distracted, barely glancing at the covers, I reached for another pile of books.
Brooke snatched the top one from the stack already in my hands, her eyes narrowing as she read the title.“Learn to knit.”Her nose scrunched. “Knitting!” She shoved the book back at me. “Of all the hobbies in the world, why would you choose knitting? Onpurpose?”
I handed the money for the books to the stall owner with an awkward smile.
Brooke arched her eyebrow, waiting for an explanation she wasn’t going to be satisfied with. She soared through life with complete confidence. Her idea of a good time was talking, going out, and…dancing. I loved catching up with her for brunch. I never minded a chat. But there was no way my two left feet were ever stepping into the Thursday night salsa class with her.
“I thought learning to knit might be fun,” I said.
More than fun. Me, huddled on my couch, the fireplace roaring while I crafted cute things. Realistically, I was probably going to end up with a drawer stuffed full of wonky scarves and beanies with off-centre pom-poms on top, but practice made perfect. I couldn’t be as hopeless at knitting as I was at pottery.Surely.
Brooke tossed a dubious look in my direction. “Will knitting be as fun as the jigsaw you bought last weekend?”
A little defensively, I said, “I happen to like jigsaws.”
“Weneedto get you a TV. Do you have any hobbies that aren’t like a cranky old nana?” Her lip curled. “Oh! I know!” She bounced on her toes and clapped her hands. “An adult ballet class is starting here in a couple of weeks. Wanna come with me?”
“I paid enough penance in ballet classes in my childhood. Why would I willingly subject myself to more torture?”
“I dunno.” Her grin turned sly. “An even hotter bod might help convince a certainsomeoneto ask you out.” She rolled her eyes. “Finally.”
I walked faster along the row of stalls. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”
“Tall, dark, always wearing flannel—”
“I really can’t date anyone right now.”
“Got someone waiting for you back in the city?”
Fear shot down my spine, locking every muscle in place. I froze. Gripping the edge of the cake stall, I pulled in a trembling breath, shoving the memory of Chris’s palm stinging against my cheek to the darkest corner of my mind so it couldn’t claw its way back out.
Brooke slipped in beside me, shielding my panic from the eager eyes of the church ladies who’d crowded the end of the stall. “Lolly, I’m sorry. I didn’t…didn’t…mean to…” Her pretty features crumpled.
