Will hesitated outside the front door of The Dough Knot, lingering just out of sight of the picture window that boasted the bakery’s name in gold script. A little girl sat at a table inside, head down as she scribbled on top of a—was that a toy cupcake?—with a pink marker. Other than that, the bakery appeared empty. Charlotte must have been in the kitchen, or on the other side of the counter that he couldn’t quite see from this angle.
He paced back and forth on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, braced against a sudden gust of September wind. The temperature was starting to change, some days dipping lower and hinting at the coming autumn, other days burning hot and clinging tight to summer. Like the world couldn’t make up its mind if it was going to transition or not.
He knew the feeling.
If he went inside The Dough Knot and told Charlotte everything that his heart wanted to say, he’d be free falling through transition himself.
But if he didn’t . . . well, how could he keep this up? He’d have to buy cookies for Melissa elsewhere, and that was the least of his problems. He saw Charlotte’s face every night before he closed his eyes and woke with her the first thing on his mind.
Yesterday at the gym, he was trying to teach old Mr. Conrad how to lift weights without throwing his back out. Adam had been there, following him around and bending his ear about Charlotte.
“Go for it, man,” Adam said. “You know we’ve been trying to set you up with someone for months now. Don’t you want the bliss me and Brittany have?” He winked.
Conrad, a feisty old geezer who had to be ninety if he was a day, seemed to have an opinion on everything—including Will’s love life. “Sounds like this girl’s a keeper,” he huffed between bicep curls. “You better make your move or somebody else will.” He grinned, showing a mouthful of perfectly white, straight dentures. “Or if you don’t, give me her number."
“He’s right,” Adam said as he spotted Will on the weight bench. “How come you’re dragging your feet? You could do a lot worse than Charlotte, dude.”
No kidding. Charlotte easily beat every one of those superficial women who had been at the party the other night, without even trying. Maybe that was why she beat them. She didn’t try. She didn’t have to. She was real. Had substance. Was sweet—and beautiful, without having to flaunt it. She was just . . . Charlotte.
And that was more than enough.
But it wasn’t about simply not being single anymore. If that was the case, he’d be content being Free Willy for life. His priorities shifted the day that SUV crashed into Melissa’s car, and it wasn’t his decision to shift them away from her now. Over and over again he tried to explain that to Adam, who didn’t get it. After denying Mr. Conrad Charlotte’s digits and after a pointless argument with Adam, his friend had finally resorted to assuring Will that in a few weeks, all of their wedding stuff would be over and Will’s life could go back to normal.
But normal meant only seeing Charlotte every Tuesday at 5:40, and he was pretty certain that wasn’t going to be good enough anymore.
He checked his watch: 5:32.
Maybe it was time for a few changes after all.
He opened the door to The Dough Knot.
The little girl looked up, pink marker in hand, and smiled—Charlotte’s smile. Was it? Yes. It had to be. She had the same dimple in her cheek too. But how—
“Welcome to The Dough Knot.” She said it so properly, he couldn’t help but grin. She clearly had a lot of practice.
“Thank you.” He couldn’t stop staring at her. Charlotte had a daughter? He didn’t see that coming.
“Want a bite?” She held out the cupcake she’d been working on so diligently.
He hesitated, then took a step forward and accepted the offering. “It looks delicious.”
She capped her marker with a flourish. “It is.”
Confident little thing. Good for Charlotte. He pretended to take a bite of the icing and made a show of mumbling his appreciation. “Best cupcake in the store.”
The little girl’s shoulders straightened and she twisted her braid around one finger. “One day it will be. When the shop is mine, of course.”
She couldn’t be more than what . . . five years old? Six, tops? And she was already planning on taking over the world. He grinned wider. “When it’s yours, will you give me a discount on cupcakes?”
She rolled in her bottom lip, thinking hard. Then she nodded solemnly. “But only if you buy two. Then you can get a third one free.”
He leaned his head back and laughed.
Charlotte appeared through the door behind the counter leading from the kitchen. “Can I help—oh.” She looked at her watch, which made him look at his.
5:40.
They locked eyes. Charlotte tucked her hair behind her ears then crossed her arms over her flour-streaked apron. “The usual?”
“Yes.” But that wasn’t all. Not today. He strode toward the counter. “Your daughter is just like you.”
A flicker of pride danced through her eyes before the wall went back up. “It’s just me and Zoe, so she doesn’t have many other influences, I guess.”
“I didn’t realize you were a single mom.”