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We’re saved from any talk about why we were feeling particularly junior high-ish as Camilla and Merre have a lengthy discussion about pastry arts and the program she’s in.
Just because we’re no longer talking about Theo doesn’t mean I’m not thinking of him. The truth is, I don’t remember feeling this giddy over a guysincejunior high. Sure, there was Rob. But it wasn’t an exciting, soaring feeling to be dating Rob. It was borne of feeling stable, that getting into a relationship was the next logical step.
And that’s what’s so scary. I know if Theo and I had continued to kiss, or if we kiss again, things wouldn’t be logical or stable or safe. If we kiss again, my world will never be the same.
Because Theo? Theo has the ability to wreck me, mind, body, and soul.
Chapter 19
Theo
“The caterers said they were throwing in a couple of additional side dishes for free,” Aria says, tapping the pen she’s holding on the notebook in front of her. “They said they want to do their part to help the festival.”
“That’s cool of them.” I get distracted by Aria’s mouth, especially when she presses the capped end of the pen to her chin as she concentrates.
We haven’t discussed the kiss. We can’t. We’re sitting in the bakeshop at one of the tables and customers are coming in and out. Not to mention Merre and Elijah, who, between the two of them, haven’t left us alone.
That’s probably a good thing. But still, I want to talk with her about it. She apologized for it as she was leaving, and I want to make it very clear to her that no apology is necessary.
That kiss.
I shudder internally as it comes to mind again. There are some things in life that are innate, so impossibly simple that they make sense and there’s no way to describe why they make so much sense.
Kissing Aria was like that for me. So tortuously brief, yet the single most powerful kiss I’ve ever had. Aria truly is on a different plane than others. And her kiss was no different.
The bell over the door rings. Aria leans her body to one side to see.
“Grandpa!”
I turn to see a man with grey hair, bundled up in a coat, scarf, beanie, and gloves, stamping his feet to get the snow off them.
Aria stands and rushes to him. She’s wearing a white sweater with tiny red bells sewn on, so it makes a slight jingle wherever she goes. I wouldn’t think something like that would work, and it’s Christmassy, so that’s usually doubly annoying for me. But she makes it attractive—stick-in-your-mind-for-all-time attractive.
She gives him a big hug and then squeals and darts away. “Snow in my face? Grandpa!” She wipes her cheek off and turns to me, pointing to him. “This guy. A few days in Colorado and already he thinks he can stick snow in my face.”
“I couldn’t help myself. I’m finding snow inallthe nooks and crannies these days.”
“That snow was from a nook or a cranny?” Aria scowls and wipes her face again.
“The nooks and crannies of my coat, Aria.” Her grandfather laughs. “Mycoat.”
“Um hmm.” Aria shakes her head, but tugs on his arm to bring him over to the table. I stand and reach out to shake his hand.
“Grandpa, this is Theo Carter. He works next door. He’s an attorney and Camilla’s brother-in-law.” She turns to me. “And this is Howard Beckwith. The best grandpa in the universe.”
“I’m the only grandpa she’s ever known, so—” Howard lifts his hands in the air, palms up. “Still, I’m not too shabby if I do say so myself.”
“Grandpa’s getting used to the snow since he’s lived in Florida for the last ten years.”
“I can’t get enough of it! I made a bunch of snow angels in the yard the other day,” he says to me. “My daughter Erin, Aria’s mom, wasn’t too happy. She said I could have injured myself. The nerve!” His laugh is a booming, old-man-full-of-wisdom chuckle I didn’t expect from someone so slight. It twitches his mustache, and I notice his eyes are the same shade of brown as Aria’s.
She directs him to the display case. “Look, Grandpa. You’re famous. It’s your cheesecakes!”
“They look like they belong in a swanky Manhattan eatery,” Howard says. “Good work, Aria.”
He sits at the table next to ours, looking over at Aria’s pad of paper. “Don’t let me interrupt anything, you two. I thought I’d come see the shop. I haven’t been since I was last here two years ago.” He looks around the room and whistles. “I see the remodel is all finished. It looks mighty spiffy.”
“Camilla did a good job, didn’t she? And hey, you can thank me for the paint in here because I spent many a day with a long roller above my head. My hair was sticky with paint for weeks.”
