Chapter 37
I was exhausted by the time I made it back upstairs. The conversation with Preston had gone better than I expected, but it had still left me drained. I kicked off my shoes, sank onto the couch, and let out a long breath. The bakery was quiet, the hum of the refrigerator below faint through the floorboards. For the first time all day, I let myself close my eyes.
I must have dozed off, because the next thing I heard was a knock at the door.
I frowned, glancing at the clock. It was late afternoon—too early for Taylor, too late for deliveries. I wasn’t expecting anyone. The knock came again, firmer this time.
“Coming,” I called, pushing myself up. My legs felt heavy as I crossed the room, half expecting to see Hattie with another surprise or maybe Preston again, wanting to talk more.
But when I opened the door, my breath caught.
Wes stood there.
He looked the same and completely different all at once—jeans, a worn tshirt, his hair a little messy like he’d run his hands through it a dozen times. His eyes met mine, uncertain but warm, and for a moment, neither of us said anything.
“Hey,” he said finally, his voice low.
“Hey,” I echoed, gripping the edge of the door. “I… wasn’t expecting you.”
“I figured,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can I come in?”
I hesitated for a heartbeat, then stepped aside. “Yeah. Sure.”
He walked in slowly, glancing around like he wasn’t sure if he should be there. The air between us felt thick, full of everything we hadn’t said since the photo shoot. I closed the door and turned to face him.
“So,” I said, trying to sound casual. “What brings you here?”
He gave a small, awkward smile. “Guess you’ve seen the photos.”
I let out a breathy laugh. “Hard to miss them. Hattie’s post is everywhere.”
“Yeah,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t know she was going to post them so soon. Or… at all, honestly.”
“Me neither,” I admitted. “Preston saw them. That was… fun.”
His expression shifted, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. “He wasn’t happy?”
“Confused, mostly,” I said. “I told him it was just a shoot. That there’s nothing going on between us.”
Wes nodded slowly, his jaw tightening. “Right. Nothing going on.”
The way he said it made my chest ache. I looked away, pretending to straighten a stack of mail on the counter. “It’s true. It was just for Hattie.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Just for Hattie.”
Silence stretched between us. I could feel his eyes on me, and it made my pulse quicken. I turned back to him, ready to say something—anything—to break the tension, but the words caught in my throat.
He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept much. There was something in his expression I couldn’t quite read—something between regret and longing.
“I didn’t come here to make things weird,” he said finally. “I just… wanted to see how you were doing. You looked pale at the wedding. Hattie mentioned you’ve been sick.”
I swallowed hard, my hand instinctively brushing against my stomach. “I’m fine,” I said quickly. “Just tired.”
He frowned. “You sure? You don’t look fine.”
“I’ve been to the doctor,” I said, forcing a small smile. “Nothing serious.”
He studied me for a moment, like he didn’t quite believe me, but he let it go. “Good. I’m glad.”
I nodded, unsure what else to say. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable exactly, but it was heavy—full of things neither of us wanted to touch.
Finally, Wes broke it. “Those photos… they turned out better than I expected.”
I laughed softly. “Yeah. Hattie’s got a good eye.”
“She does,” he said, his voice quieter now. “But it wasn’t just her. You made it easy.”
I looked up, meeting his gaze. There it was again—that warmth, that pull I’d tried so hard to ignore. My heart thudded in my chest.
“Wes…” I started, but he shook his head.
“I know,” he said. “You’ve got your life, and I’ve got mine. I just—when I saw those pictures, I couldn’t stop thinking about that day. About how easy it felt. How right it looked.”
I didn’t know what to say. My throat felt tight, my thoughts tangled. I wanted to tell him everything—the doctor’s visit, the truth that had been sitting heavy in my chest since yesterday—but the words wouldn’t come.
Instead, I said softly, “It was a good day.”
He smiled faintly. “Yeah. It was.”
We stood there for a long moment, the air between us charged with everything unspoken. Then he took a small step back, his expression softening.
“I should go,” he said. “Didn’t mean to drop in unannounced, I was just driving through town and thought I would stop by.”
“It’s okay,” I said quickly. “I’m glad you did.”
He nodded, his eyes lingering on mine. “Take care of yourself, Maisie.”
“I will,” I said, though my voice wavered.
He turned and walked to the door. For a second, I thought he might say something else, but he just gave me a small, almost wistful smile before stepping out onto the stairs.
When the door clicked shut behind him, I leaned against it, my heart pounding. The apartment felt too quiet again, the echo of his presence still hanging in the air.
I pressed a hand to my stomach, the secret still mine alone, and whispered into the silence, “What am I going to do now?”