48
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 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 it for the last few weeks and except for the one time she asked me about Aiden when we got home she hasn’t asked me about him since.
Mostly, she just looks at me and know 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, 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 my feet and rush outside in time to see the man dressed in his black leather biker jacket and black slack pull off his helmet and set in on the handle of his midnight black 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 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 pulse race.