Page 63 of Ardently Yours

They have said before that if she marries someone they pick, and if I do not take over the company, Georgiana’s husband can become the next CEO. But she can’t. The small-mindedness they cling too is another reason I was happy to get away from here.

But as I look toward the staircase where my sister has gone to bed, knowing this day has been hard on all of us, I also feel bad because she’s the one who stayed. She may be the younger sibling, but she’s still a young woman who put her life on hold to live the life my parents carved out for her.

She is the best at what she does. And they’re still waiting for her to get married. They put all their hope into me, and I failed.

Guilt. It weighs on me. And I realize it’s been plaguing me a lot lately. Secrets. Lies. It’s all going to come to the surface. It’s all going to come into the light. Or it should.

“Hey.” Lizzie places her hand on my arm, making me focus on her. “I know this has been a hard day for you. We don’t have to talk about what the future brings right now. I know it’s a bit wild for both of us. This is new for us. But I also know that you made me put on an apron at midnight, so if you’re going to keep me up, then you have to tell me what we’re making.”

I smile at her and talk through the plan I have for the Lizzie’s favorites menu that I’ve been working on. Things have gotten sort of busy in life and at the cafe, so I hadn’t gotten a chance to spend as much time on it as I wanted to. But I have her here now, and I’ve done enough planning and testing that I’m ready to make the menu for her so she can taste it and approve.

When I finish explaining it to her, looking through my parents’ elaborate pantry and fridge and finding everything I need, she’s beaming. And it makes me happy to see her happy.

“I didn’t know you were working on a special menu for me,” she says, placing a hand over her heart.

“Well, you did tell me to create a new menu for the rest of summer, and I wanted to do something special for you. So I started prepping some of your favorites that I’ve noticed you like since I started working at the cafe. And I thought, with a little bit of a twist, the menu could really come to life and probably bring some new favorites to the town. What do you think?”

“I’m impressed. You actually remember what I like.”

“I’ve been paying attention,” I say, preheating the oven and pulling out mixers and pans we can use for baking.

“Clearly,” she says, watching me prepare the pastry. “I have a confession to make.”

I turn to face her.

“And what’s that?”

“I’ve been paying attention too. I kind of like watching you bake. When you’re in the kitchen, you’re just sort of in your own little zone, and I like watching you move around and how particular you are about everything. But it’s not in a crazy kind of way. You’re the kind of baker who isn’t mean in the kitchen. When I’m in the kitchen with you, you’re kind and very patient. But you’re also so focused, and I just like seeing you focus on something that you love.”

And there she goes, giving me a compliment. Straight from our contract. But as real and genuine as ever.

“You mean that?” I ask her.

“Why would I fake a compliment, Darcy?” she asks playfully.

“Are you back to calling me Darcy now?”

“Why would you prefer me to call you Willy?” She laughs, and I reach for her, but she steps away, dodging my grasp and laughing. “Because I can do that. I think that’s the perfect new thing for you. I can’t believe I missed that one. I was going about your nickname all wrong.”

“Please don’t ever call me Willy. I had to survive my whole childhood being called that, and my sister only calls me that to make me mad.”

“Well, now I have to call you that because I love getting under your skin, as you know, Willy.”

I reach for her again. This time I catch her as she tries to run away. She has her back turned to me, and I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her backward. We’re both laughing, but as our laughter dies down and she turns to face me, we’re both breathing deeply.

I say, “I like hearing you say my name.”

“Which one?” she asks, breathless. “Darcy? Willy? Will?”

“All of the above. But hearing you call my name just does something to me.”

“You think I’m going to let you off that easily? You kind of have to tell me exactly how it makes you feel.” Lizzie dares me, and that look in her eye is dangerous.

“You want to know how you make me feel?”

“Yes,” she says, not backing down. “If you could describe how I make you feel in only one word, which would you choose?”

I think long and hard because that seems impossible.