He looked into her eyes and smiled. “Me too.” Except he wasn’t sure how much of what he was feeling had to do with their success tonight—a lot, obviously—and how much was due to simply being with her. But he couldn’t put that into words. Instead, he kissed her in the warm lights of their kitchen, the new island gleaming with its brand-new top. The place looked like…home.
“Want some wine?” he asked.
“Sure.” She left him to get the glasses.
Leo reached into the cabinet for a bottle. While he was waiting for her, he flipped through the mail pile.
And spied something that made his heart skip a beat.
A business envelope. With a Chicago address.
His heart nearly stopped. Closer inspection confirmed what he already knew.
The pastry school.
A million emotions flooded him. The sense of celebration that had pervaded the evening seemed to hold its breath.
What if she didn’t get in?
What if she did?
“Tessa,” Leo called, “I—I think you might want to come over here.”
He thought about waiting until tomorrow to tell her. Of ignoring it just for a few more hours. But that really wasn’t his decision, was it?
Tessa kicked off her flip-flops and walked over to where he’d been about to pour their wine. Cosette hopped up on a barstool and purred softly until Tessa scooped her in her arms and kissed her head, saying, “Hi, Cosey. We’ve had quite a day!”
She finally noticed the envelope in his hands. “I’m sorry about the mail pile,” she said as she released the cat, who, judging by the way she sprung out of Tessa’s arms, had had enough love for now. “I know you like things tidy. I was just so busy—”
“Tessa, darling, I didn’t call you over here to chide you about not sorting the mail.”
She gave him a funny look. “You’re acting weird. What is it?”
He dropped his eyes to the mail. “See for yourself.”
She looked at the envelope, her eyes widening when she saw the return address. She gasped, clasping her hands over her mouth.
He poured them both a glass, feeling that he for sure needed some wine right about now. But he kept his tone optimistic. “To the future,” he said, handing her one. “Go for it.”
She looked at him solemnly. “What if it’s a rejection? This might be my only chance.”
He seemed to consider that. “Come on. Just raise your glass.” He waved his wineglass toward hers to encourage her to pick it up.
She lifted it with shaking hands and clinked glasses, then took a big gulp. “Leo, I—” She closed her eyes. “I guess I’m a little afraid.” She paused. “Make that a lot afraid.”
“Afraid is good.” She looked like she was trying to believe him but wasn’t quite getting there.
“And what if I got in? Everything will change.”
Yes. That was exactly what he was worried about. “Change is good,” he said with his best smile. “Open it.”
At least, he hoped it was.
…
Tessa shook the envelope. Then she walked over to Leo’s desk and held it up to the little lamp on top.
“What are you doing?” Leo walked up beside her and squinted into the light. “Wow, you’ve got quite the tremor there.”
She shot him a dagger-laden look. “I was thinking that maybe a rejection is lighter than an acceptance. A rejection is sorry, goodbye, and an acceptance is we need your money, your forms, and here’s all the info about the classes…”
“So, which do you think it is?” he asked, looking over her shoulder.
She set the envelope on the desk. “I can’t tell.” She wanted in so badly. She wanted to learn how to make pastries the right way. From real French chefs.
But she also wanted this safe, sweet haven they’d built here. The sparks between them that were just beginning to…become something—both for their business ventures and for each other.
They were a great team. And maybe something more.
Leo rubbed his hands up and down her arms. Looking from her to the envelope, he said, “Sweetheart, no matter what’s in there, we’re going to handle it.” She let that Sweetheart sink straight into her bones. “No matter what happens, you’re a very talented baker. And I, for one, couldn’t be prouder.”
“You just said we,” she whispered.
He turned her around and held her hands. “We’ll get through this together, just like we’ve done everything else so far.”
That made her tear up. She took strength from his firm, warm grip. From his positive words. “Thank you, Leo. For all your support. It means a lot.”
He picked up the envelope and held it out to her, lifting a brow.
She shook her head and pushed his hand back. “You do it. I’m too nervous.”
“Okay. Here goes.” He ripped the top open and pulled out a single sheet of paper. As she held her breath, he squinted at the print. “I need my glasses.”
“Leo, please.”
“Okay, okay. Dear Ms. Montgomery,” he read. “As you know, the Chicago School of French Pastry is a renowned institution and the only school in the United States devoted exclusively to the techniques of baking French pastry.”
“Leo!”
He was enjoying this way too much, as evidenced by the little twinkle in his eye.
After a quick wink, he started reading a third time. And she knew from the way his hand shook a little that this time was for real. “Dear Ms. Montgomery, The Chicago School of French Pastry is pleased to welcome you into our July class.” Tessa grabbed Leo’s arm. A giant grin spread across his face. “Our faculty of world-class bakers is excited to lead you on your journey in becoming a professional pastry chef.”
Tears blurred her vision. She hadn’t really comprehended anything except for professional pastry chef. And the fact that Leo set down the letter and took her in his arms.
“You did it,” he whispered against her hair. “Congratulations.”
She’d done it. She’d gotten in.
The tears were boundless. She sniffled and clutched handfuls of his shirt. She was not a calm or beautiful crier, but that didn’t seem to scare Leo away.
Finally he held her at arm’s length. “Tessa. I get happy tears, but—is something wrong?”
“What will we do about your restaurant? The desserts? My family’s bakery?” She almost added “us” but stopped herself. Was there an us? It sort of felt like there was.