Chapter 50—Olivia
Mom sets a batch of muffins on the table and smiles at me.
“I’m making something for you,” she says. “If you like it, I’ll add it to the lineup for the store.”
I chuckle. “Mom, I’m sure I’ll like it. It’s going to taste amazing if you baked it, right?”
“Stop being so nice. I’ve been out of the game for years, and I want everything to be perfect. I need you to be ruthless and honest.”
I shake my head and humor her. She’s reopening her bakery and is either acting like she doesn’t know she’s the most amazing cook in the world or trying to cheer me up.
She’s been like this for the last few weeks, and except for the one time she asked me about Aiden when we got home, she hasn’t spoken about him since.
Mostly, she just looks at me and knows when I’m thinking about him, and then she does something like this.
I appreciate it, and I have to admit it does serve as a distraction sometimes. Especially when she wants me to do a taste test that will last for a while. Today, it looks like she’s made six different types of muffins.
“Go on, taste it,” she bubbles.
I pick up a white chocolate chip, blueberry, and raspberry muffin, a favorite of mine, and bite into it. The burst of flavor is divine and the kind that will make a girl forget about all the calories she’s consumed in the last few weeks that made her feel comfortable.
“Mom, this is amazing. I’m going to be as big as a house if you keep on like this.”
“But you’ll be a happy house, right?” She laughs, and it’s the best sound.
I smile, and she reaches out to take my hands into hers.
“This is all I wanted.”
“What?”
“The smile on your face. We’ve been through so much that sometimes smiles are a thing to hold on to for as long as we can. Are you okay?”
I nod. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
“I know you’re not fine, sweetie, but things will change in ways you might not expect.”
“Like what?”
She glances at the clock at the same time we hear the roar of a motorcycle.
“Well, every now and again, people have a way of surprising you. Go outside, sweet girl, it looks like he’s early. I like early. It means you have more time together. Time you shouldn’t waste.”
My lips part, and I stare back at her. “What’s happening, Mom?”
“Go see for yourself.”
I push to my feet and rush outside in time to see a man dressed in a black leather biker jacket and slacks pull off his helmet and set in on the handle of his motorcycle.
I remember the first time I saw the bike, I thought it looked like something from the set of a futuristic film.
It still looks like that, and the man before me looks just as dangerous and so alluring the invitation to stare is too strong to turn away.
When he sees me, he stills and looks over at me, and I stare back, wondering if this is one of my dreams. Why else would Aiden Romanov be in San Francisco, parked up on my drive?
It must be real, though. This must be happening because the real live version of him is always better. It always makes my heart flutter in my chest and my pulse race.
It’s the shock of seeing him that moves me to him.
He walks to me too, giving me that look that takes me in, in one sweep.
We stop paces away, and I stare, speechless at the man before me I never thought I would see again.
“You’re here,” I mutter.
“I…” He pulls in a measured breath, and his gaze intensifies. “I tried to live without you, and I realized I couldn’t do it.”
“No?” My pulse starts leaping with elation, and I can hardly contain myself.
“No. Because you’re mine, and I love you.”
I smile up at him. “I love you too.”
He returns the smile, and his eyes sparkle. “Then come here to me, angel’skoye lichiko.”
I throw myself into his arms, and he holds me.
Aiden holds me like he’ll never let me go, and I do the same.
I don’t plan to let him go either.