“Hey, guess what?” I ask as I relock the door. “I held a man’s hand! You all thought this girl had no game anymore. You. Were. Wrong.” I grin as I open the fridgeand pull out the pan of cinnamon rolls I made this weekend. Baking is my happy place. And while Piper and I have a plan to open a restaurant and pub together…the part I’m most excited about is making delicious baked goods.
“Why are you home?”
“It has to do with holding hands,” I tell her.
“Prove it. When’s your next date?” Piper asks from where she sits at the bar, sipping coffee. She rarely gets up at any early hour since she’s a bartender. Her late-night hours make it hard for us to ever see each other since I have to be at the office by eight a.m.
“No date set,” I admit sadly.
“So, tell me about the man whose hand you held today. Was it your doctor?” she asks with a laugh. “Or a small toddler needing help across the street?”
“I’ll have you know, it was a very handsome, funny man.”
“Funny?” she asks with raised eyebrows. “Like a clown?”
“He had a good sense of humor,” I explain as I grab a glass from the cupboard and the filtered water from the fridge.
“Let me guess. He walked into your company, met your eyes across the way, and then said,I must meet that woman.” Piper ends with a dramatically deep voice.
I pour the water into my glass. “No, he tried to kill me first.”
It’s not often I get to shock Piper, but she’s staring at me with her mouth open.
Finally, she says, “Did you call the police? This isn’t funny, Magnolia.”
I shake my head. “It wasn’t like that. The fire alarmwent off in the building, and when I went to the small fire escape staircase, he ran into me. We almost went over the railing and fell eight floors down. No big deal.”
“And all of this has to do with you holding his hand?”
“Well, after almost killing me, he felt really bad, and he took my shoes off?—”
“Quick mover,” Piper comments.
“And held my hand all the way down the stairs. I realized I really need to do more cardio since I’m pretty sure he was only holding my hand because he thought I was going to pass out.” I grimace as I recall huffing and puffing my way down the stairs with him.
Piper’s face falls flat. “I was expecting a better story than that.”
“But—” But what? How can I explain the attraction I felt for him? Or how the interaction felt like so much more? Or that he was quick-witted and snarky? Those aren’t exactly things I can articulate. I clear my throat and say, “But I get the rest of the day off, so that’s kind of fun.”
Piper lifts her coffee mug in a salute. “Now,thatis a good story.”
I plop a cinnamon roll onto a plate for myself, then grab a second plate when I see Piper lick her lips.
“How’s that no-sugar diet going?” I ask as I grab two forks.
Two days ago, Piper went on a rant about how she wasn’t going to eat any sweets anymore. She told me that sugar was a drug and was ruining her life. I personally find sugar to be a bright spot in my life. But I want to love and support Piper. She needs me.
“Well, it’s gone. I drank a virgin margarita after my shift last night.”
“That’s not that much sugar, right?”
Piper shrugs and holds up her fingers as though counting something off. “I chased it down with three doughnuts.”
Maybe I am slightly worried about what that will do to her blood sugar, but me being judgmental won’t help anything. “It’s the only wise choice. Have a cinnamon roll.”
Piper frowns and taps her fingernails on the counter. “That would be too much sugar, even for me, in a twelve-hour period. Do you suppose I should do a juice fast?”
“Don’t you suppose that’s super unhealthy?” I ask as I stab a fork into a cinnamon roll and take a bite. It melts in my mouth.
