Page 2 of Ardently Yours

Janet: No fighting, girls. Our parents raised us better than that.

Me: Fine. Later losers. Love ya.

The kitchen door opens. I don’t have to look up to know who it is.

“Morning, Boss Lady.”

I narrow my eyes but keep them on the phone in front of me. “I told you to stop calling me that, Darcy.”

“And I told you to call me Will.”

I look up at him now, eyes still narrowed. “Will,” I say.

I don’t have the energy to argue with him. I have been up since 4 a.m. because I have to get to the cafe early in the morning. It’s Monday, and I’m feeling every bit of the early morning rush I have to prepare for, and yet I possess none of the energy for it.

Selah Falls, Illinois may be a small town, but the residents love their coffee and apple cider all year. And they like their baked goods too, which is why I hired Will Darcy, the new baker, ten months ago.

“I’ll make you breakfast if you’re nice to me today,” he says.

“I can make my own breakfast, Darcy.”

“Okay,” he responds, moving closer to me. I side-eye him as he settles next to me, leaning on the counter. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I say, but I don’t know if I believe it. My eyes find the wedding invitation as I put my phone down on the counter next to it.

“Oh,” Will says, walking away. “I didn’t know you still got a wedding invitation if you’re in the wedding.”

“Yeah, maid of honor or not, I guess they have to know if I’m coming alone or not.”

Will’s back is to me as he washes his hands in the kitchen sink. “Well, are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Going to the wedding alone?” he asks, putting on an apron.

I don’t have enough coffee in my system for this conversation. “Why do you care, Darcy?”

“I’m going solo, too. I got my invitation a week ago.”

I look at him, blinking slowly. “Yeah, but you’re just a guest. It’s different for me.”

He’s silent for a moment, and I’m thankful for the chance to sit in my sorrow.

“I’m better off alone,” I say aloud to myself.

“You are not built to be a loner, Boss Lady.”

I look away from the wedding invitation and look at Will. He pulls out a baking pan and ingredients to make a batch of apple cinnamon rolls for the morning rush of customers we’ll have in a couple of hours.

“No one asked you,” I say, sighing. “I’m talking to myself, Darcy. This doesn’t concern you.”

“Oh,” he chuckles, working on the rolls. I watch him as he moves meticulously and effortlessly. He’s swift with his movements, sprinkling cinnamon and spices here, a little dash of sugar there. He whisks the icing in a bowl with ease before moving back to the perfectly shaped rolls on the nonstick baking sheet. He asks, “So, you’re doing that again, huh?”

“I talk to myself because it’s much more fun than talking to you. You are a man who can’t help me right now.” I pout, putting on an apron and washing my hands as well.

I need to get started on the drinks for the day. Will handles the baked goods, but I’m the barista and owner of the cafe, so I have to be prepared to serve the best drinks in town and run things. That and I can’t let Will outdo me by coming into work and getting right to it.

I’ve been here for about an hour, but I had to do some paperwork and owner admin tasks before I got to the drink-making part of it all. The perks of being the boss and the barista. I stifle a yawn.