Fourteen
JACK
Every year, we buy and send 145 million Valentine’s Day cards. Imagine if we sent 145 million cards every year that simply said “You, alone, are enough”?
—SOLO FEBRUARY CHALLENGE
I think I might be in love.
Real love.
Not fake, bullshit, reality TV love. And not adorable kid-crush love, either.
Real.
Freakin’.
Love.
I can’t stop thinking about Sora. Everything reminds me of her. Like the woman in the red coat—like Sora’s—who’s lingering in the produce section. Or the display near the bakery of the pre-cooked, pre-packaged bacon—her favorite. Or the small table in front of the bakery covered in pink and red heart-shaped cookies—the cookies I made just this morning, and each time I piped a heart, I thought of Sora.
Sora.
Sora.
Sora.
Everywhere, Sora.
Yeah, I got it bad.
Dude. One night of lovemaking does not a marriage make. I keep trying to tell myself to slow down.
“Uh, excuse me?” a Margo’s customer in a purple coat asks. “Are you going to get those eclairs or…?”
Oh, right. My job.
“Sorry,” I say, contrite, grabbing her requested two chocolate, cream-filled desserts from behind the bakery glass, and bagging them. I hand them over and she shakes her head, disapproving.
I watch her walk away and then slip back into Sora world.
Sure, it’s the sex. The amazing, life-changing sex. The white-hot chemistry between us that’s impossible to fake.
But it’s also that she’s smart.
And funny.
And the most interesting woman maybe I’ve ever met, maybe. And the kindest. And she’s only gotten more so since grade school.
But to be honest, I was already a little in love with her anyway. I was probably always going to be a goner.
And now I’ve gone and asked her to be my valentine.
Like we’re both in second grade.
Sometimes, I want to kick my own ass. It’s no wonder she hasn’t responded yet. What does she say to that?
Hell, might as well have sent her a note that said: Do you like me? Check “yes” or “no.”
I am an idiot.
The woman already told me she hates Valentine’s Day. Plus, we haven’t even talked about the Solo February stuff and the fact that her boss didn’t seem all that keen on her breaking it.
Not that it’s a topic of conversation to be broached in bed.
Because, I’m pretty sure … she wasn’t doing anything solo then.
I glance at the clock in Margo’s bakery, which reminds me I’m still on shift for a few more minutes. If I keep daydreaming about Sora’s fine, fine body, then I’m going to burn all the croissants. Plus, I’ve only got a million other things that need my attention right now. There’s the Golden Chef Awards coming up, and I really need to win that $100,000 cash award, since it will help me launch the bakery. There’s also the fact that I just got the keys to the new store space, which I have to work on getting into shape in the next month. We gotta open by May 1st and at least start making money or I’m going to go broke.
I’ve got to clean it. Paint it. Get it stocked. Hire a front counter person—all in the next month. And here I am daydreaming about Sora.
Well, because … she’s Sora.
My phone dings and I pull it out like I’m in a gunfight in the Old West. Did she respond?
No. I feel instant disappointment.
It’s Mal.
I was expecting you to call. About the Golden Chef Awards. You’re supposed to be my valentine. Come on, Jack-a-boo. I got a new dress.
A photo pops up on the feed. Yep. That’s Mal all right. She’s wearing a sheer red negligee, nothing underneath. She’s got a good body, I’ll give her that. It’s too bad there’s an empty chest cavity filled with cobwebs where her heart should be.
I ignore the text.
“Jack?” I glance up and see Sora standing on the other side of the glass bakery counter. I straighten, surprised, and dump my phone in my pocket, feeling guilty, even though, technically, I didn’t do anything wrong. I definitely didn’t ask for that text! My heart hammers in my chest.
I focus on Sora, who’s wearing her formfitting red wool coat and a white cashmere cap. Her lips perfectly match her rich red lapel.
“Sora.” I grin, unable to help myself. “Glad you came by. I thought I scared you off with that ‘be mine,’ Valentine’s stuff.”
She laughs—uncomfortably. “You know how I feel about Valentine’s Day.”
“Yeah. I was hoping to change that.”
She meets my gaze, startled. “That’s a long road,” she says after a bit. Okay, back off, Jack. Tread carefully.
“Well, why don’t we start with chocolate chip cookie samples?” I nod at the open display case in front of the glass bakery counter.
Sora grabs the tongs and digs into the cookies, picking the biggest one. She plucks it from the tongs and takes a healthy bite. Damn, the woman does not mind eating. Love that. Also love her lips on … pretty much any part of my body. Lady’s choice.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, mouth full.
“I’m glad you came by. I was thinking about you.” Like every minute.
“You were?”
“Yeah.” I grin, goofy. And she grins back.
There it is, that connection between us. There’s no mistaking it. It’s like a panting dog, desperate for attention.
Damn, I have it bad for this woman.
Sora lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I shouldn’t even be here.” She glances up at me, looking pained. “My boss, Arial, for a start. Solo February.”
Oh. Right. That.
“I thought we kind of totally demolished Solo February … last night.” I’m confused.
“We did. That’s the problem.” She stares at me, worried.
“But … you don’t want to lose your job. So…” I’m connecting the dots.
She bites her lip.
“Yeah. So.” She shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
“Listen, I get it.” I don’t want to put Sora in a position where she has to choose between her job and me.
“You do?” She’s shocked. “You’re okay with this … or … not …this?” She gestures wildly between us.
I laugh. “There’s really only two more weeks in February,” I say. “And then, I assume, after that, your boss won’t care who you date?”
She thinks about this a moment, tapping her chin with one gloved hand. “Yes, that’s true.”
“Okay, then. I can wait.”
“You can?” She shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. Absolutely.” I’d wait months. Hell, I’ve already waited years, if you think about it.
“These days, guys won’t wait five minutes on Spark.”
“Well, I’m not most guys.” I think about all the fish-faced cleavage. Nah, I’m good. I’m tired of the flatness, the sameness of all those many profiles on my dating apps.
We stare at each other, and a small smile teases the corner of Sora’s lips.
I don’t want her to go. She doesn’t want to leave. It’s like we’re tethered together by an invisible cord.
“So, do you have any plans? For tonight?”
“Valentine’s Day?” she scoffs, offended. “Well, I can’t go out to eat, because every single restaurant will be mobbed. Can’t GrubDash because, see: all restaurants being packed. And, I just checked—there’s no horror movie marathon like there ought to be on cable tonight. So I’ll probably just go home and rewatch The Shining again.”
“Evil haunted hotel does scream Valentine’s Day.”
“I mean, it’s the next best thing to a masked killer with a chain saw.” She lingers at my counter. “Do … you have plans?” She says it haltingly, as if worried about my answer. Does she think I would just fall into bed with her and then go out with a new woman the next night? I’m not that much of a jerk. But that doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun. At her expense.
“Well, I do have a date.”
She stiffens. “You do?” She tries desperately to look uninterested.
“With a beautiful brunette.”
“Oh.” Sora glances down at her feet, not meeting my gaze. “I figured a guy like you wouldn’t be staying home.”
Guy like me? Wonder what she means by that?
“I am just giving you a hard time. I’m babysitting my five-year-old niece.” I grab my phone from my pocket and pull up a picture of her in pink heart-shaped sunglasses and ice cream dripping from her nose. A picture taken outside last summer when she’d somehow managed to get her ice cream cone on 90 percent of her face.
Sora blinks. “Oh! Oh, God.” She laughs, brighter suddenly. “She’s adorable. Really.”
I glance up and see I’m at the end of my shift.
“Want to come over to my brother’s house? Help me babysit? I’m watching her while Ian and his wife go out.” I’m already taking off my apron, hope lifting in my chest.
“I don’t know. Is that a date?” She hesitates, biting her red lip, and looking absolutely 100 percent fuckable.
She wants to come with me. I can see it in her eyes. All she needs is a little push.
“Hell, no. It’s a job. Even your boss won’t see anything wrong with babysitting, would she?”
“I guess not,” she relents.
“Trust me. It’s not safe for you to stay home alone tonight.”
“It’s not?”
“Yeah, no.” I shake my head vigorously as I take off my baker’s hat and stick it on the hook. “You know that, just like Thanksgiving and Christmas, Valentine’s Day is a likely holiday to be hit up by some sleazy ex? Your phone will be going off all night.”
“Oh no. You think?” Sora looks worried.
“Oh, I’m sure. Starting at ten, you’ll be getting ‘U up?’ Maybe even…” I lower my voice and glance around the store as if worried one of her exes might jump out from the cereal aisle. “Dick pics.”
“Ugh.” Sora wrinkles her nose. “Not those.”
“I know. If you want, I can respond to them. I don’t mind.” I would love to tell them what they can do with those X-rated pictures.
She laughs. “Are you going to undermine their self-esteem?”
“Absolutely.” I grab my coat from a hook near the bakery and put it on, slapping a wool cap on my head.
“So you’re just going to make my exes feel badly about themselves. That’s your only motive?” She laughs as she follows me down the bakery aisle.
“Of course.” I pretend to be affronted. “Why else would I want you with me all night?”
“I could think of one or two things. Also, they might not involve clothes.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “That is no way to try to keep your Solo February vow.”
“I know. I’ve never been good with willpower.”
“Well, Allie will keep us both in line, anyway. Also, so you know, she will insist on painting your nails. It’s a rite of passage. Be prepared.”