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.

“Your program lasts for five months, not five years. We’ll manage.”

He was so calm. So positive. Trying to channel that, she took a big breath.

“This is your dream,” he said. “This is what you want, right?”

“Very badly,” she said without hesitation. She couldn’t help but think of how Sam used to think her wanting to go to pastry school was ridiculous. That it would be foolish to leave her job and him when she was already a baker. She’d listened to that line of reasoning for way too long.

Leo smoothed back her hair and handed her paper towels from the kitchen to blot her eyes and blow her nose. “Now’s your time. Your time to shine.”

“Oh, Leo.” He got what she was trying to do. He got her. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Thank you for being you.”

“I’m so grateful I’m me right now,” he said.

She pulled back and assessed him. “Why is that?”

“Because right now you’re all teary and you’re looking at me like you really like me.”

“Funny,” she said, “I was thinking that you really like me, too. Because you’ve called me darling and sweetheart, all in the past five minutes.”

“I think we’re both really grateful people.” His lips met hers for kisses that left her dizzy and breathless, the little room spinning around her. “Congratulations, Tessa,” he whispered. “You deserve it. You deserve everything.” His eyes held a sentimental look as he rubbed his thumb gently over her cheek.

“What is it?”

“I should have been saying that to you fourteen years ago.”

“Well,” she said, “I think that this time, we both won.” And went back to kissing him.

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

The next morning, Tessa had a spring in her step and was humming a happy tune as she went about baking the loaves from yesterday that had risen and began making the fresh dough for tomorrow, as she’d done every day since she was eighteen.

Everything was the same, but in reality, everything was different.

She was different.

She was headed off to make her dream come true, one that for years didn’t seem possible.

Even setting up the bread wasn’t so bad. The difference was freedom. For the first time, she could choose her course. And that was absolutely thrilling.