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I paced halfway across the bar and back to the kitchen. Then I did it again. And again.
“Don’t go pulling all those curls out, Milton, I’m quite fond of them,” Chase said, circling me on her skates. I hadn’t even realized my hands were in my hair until she said it. I paused my pacing long enough to watch her weave between the tables, smiling as she turned on a dime, and came back to me butt first.
It had been five months. Five months of life with her. Falling asleep tangled in one another, and waking the same way. Less than a week after the gold jumpsuit, Chase had moved all of her stuff into my place, which quickly became our place, and soon felt like it had always been that way. Because there had always been small touches of her everywhere. Now, there were just more. Like the clothes she left all over the place, or the ridiculous amount of curly fries in the freezer, or the hair that was constantly clogging the shower drain. I’d never been happier in my entire life.
She planted herself in front of me.
“You’re going to wear a track in the floor.”
I wrapped my arms around her waist and continued pacing, widening my steps around her skates.
“I’m going to be sick and it is all your fault.”
She laughed, draping her hands over my shoulders. “I’m so sorry for being endlessly supportive.”
I turned, her gold-flecked wheels making an awkward noise on the polished concrete floors as I took her with me for another lap.
“I don’t know why the fuck I let you talk me into this.”
“It was pie or becoming my figure skating partner. Pie was the right decision. We both know it, tell Lionel to take a hike.” Her fingers slid into my hair, toying with the strands. I recognised that she was trying to distract me. It almost worked.
“This is not about Lionel, it’s about the fact that my only two options were pie or figure skating.” I sounded borderline hysterical but I didn’t care. Chase made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cough.
“Hey.” She dropped her toe-stop thing to the floor, halting our progress, and I nearly took us both down. “Everything is going to be amazing, becauseyouare amazing. You areThe Pie Guy.”
“Who the hell did I think I was, claiming that title?”
“You didn’t have to claim it, I gave it to you. Anointed you, if you will. Although, I guess you did kinda claim it when you registered it with the city. Anyway, claimed, anointed, potayto–potahto.” She grinned. “You make the best fucking pies in the state—if not the country—and it was rude to keep all that to yourself. This is your thing, Mack. Own it.”
I knew she was right, but that didn’t stop the anxiety from clinging to me like a cold, wet, suffocating blanket.
“You’re right.”
“I know.” She reached up to press a quick kiss to my lips. I caught her before she pulled away, sinking my tongue deep into her mouth with a groan. If there was anything that was going to take my mind off everything today, it was Chase’s mouth. Her fingers tightened in my hair, sending heat barrelling down my spine. I wondered if it would stop being like this, if I’d stop feeling like I’d never get enough of her. I doubted it.
“That’s enough of that.” Nash’s laugh carried through the bar. “Time to open the doors, Pie Guy.”
I was absolutely going to be sick.
“Tell Lionel to fuck off, Mack. You’ve worked so hard for this,” Chase whispered.
“Still freaking out, then?” Nash asked, one arm draped over Jemma’s shoulders. Before I could lie and say no, Chase answered for me.
“Uh-huh, but I give excellent pep talks, as you well know, Nashville, so it’s all good, right?” She gave my chest a light slap.
“All good.” And I almost believed it.
“It’s going to be brilliant, Mack, honestly. Darcy and Harley said they can barely keep your pies on the shelf. They’re gone by midday without fail,” Jemma said as she stepped away from Nash and into Chase’s hug.
Selling the pies to a few cafes and diners around Brooklyn—starting with Cream and Sugar—had been a soft launch of sorts forThe Pie Guy. It was a good start, allowing me to settle into a routine of regular baking and get my head around what it would be like to do it full time. Was I still scared? Abso-fucking-lutely, but I’d come this far, and Chase wouldn’t let me quit now.
I’d tried to tell her I'd still be available for bar shifts but she fired me. Then she promoted both Greyson and Micky to managers and hired more new staff, so she’d be able to step back a little. She was still here pretty much everyday but now some of that time was spent skating—our floors were apparently an ideal surface—or sitting in the kitchen watching me work. She was also taking her role as taste tester very seriously.
“Time to show the world your pies.” She gave my ass a squeeze and I laughed.
“Okay, let’s do this.”
Chase shuffled inside behind me,bumped the door closed with her hip and sagged against it. “I think I have a pie baby,” she said, rubbing circles over her stomach and I imagined her belly one day round with our baby, not merely one from eating too much of my pie. One day, maybe.
