Sexy. Cole was the epitome of sexy. The sexiest man I’d ever seen.
No, not Cole. Jamie. What was wrong with me? I blinked, forcing my eyes away from Cole’s as I mentally chastised myself again. Jamie was the sexiest man I’d ever seen. Jamie. My husband.
Cole was just new. That’s why I found him so attractive. I hadn’t spent years with him, studying his face and finding flaws. I bet if I looked at him long enough, I’d realize that his ears were kind of pointed and his eyebrows were on the bushy side. And he had to have some imperfections underneath his jeans and black polo. No one was that cut—not in real life.
If I spent the time with Cole, like I had with Jamie, I’d realize he wasn’t an Adonis. He was just a man. A man who wasn’t Jamie.
A man who was now looking at me with furrowed eyebrows—which weren’t bushy at all.
I unglued my sneakers from the floor and walked back to the table, holding out the journal for Cole. “Here. This was Jamie’s birthday list.”
He looked at it for a moment, not taking it from my outstretched hand. “Are you sure?”
I gave him a sad smile, glad that he understood how much trust I was giving him. “Go ahead.”
Cole wiped his hands on a napkin before he took the book, then he carefully opened the cover. I sat back down, concentrating on my meal as he slowly flipped through the journal, and did my best not to stare with every swish of a turning page. Every once in a while, he’d let out a small chuckle. On other pages, I’d catch him frowning—I doubted he liked the fire alarm item.
When he reached the end, Cole surprised me by going back to the beginning, starting again.
“I’ll get dessert.”
Cole didn’t glance up from the journal. “Thanks.”
Clearing my plate and his, I went back to the kitchen and put the dishes in the sink. Then I went back out front to get Cole’s desserts in the oven. Molly was busy clearing a couple of tables so I took a few moments to breathe and watch the timer on the oven tick down.
I’d figured out a way to partially bake my minipies when I was prepping them so that when a customer came in, they only had to wait five minutes instead of twenty. They weren’t quite as good as they were completely fresh, but the only person who knew the difference seemed to be me.
So for the five minutes that Cole’s pies were baking, I did my best to settle the anxiety that had grown ever since I’d handed him the journal.
My fingers tapped on the counter as I tried to make sense of my nerves. Was I nervous to hear what Cole had to say about Jamie’s list? Or nervous that he’d think me doing the list was stupid? Or worse, was I nervous that Cole would think Jamie’s ideas were stupid?
Given the short time we’d spent together, it surprised me how much Cole’s opinion mattered. I knew he liked me, but I wanted him to like Jamie too.
And the birthday list was Jamie.
The timer dinged, ending my reprieve, and on autopilot, I took out the pies and wrapped them in napkins before adding a dollop of ice cream on both. Then I carried them on a tray back to the table, where Cole had closed the journal and was watching me with a seriousness that only made my anxiety spike.
“These are still hot.” I set down his jars and took my seat. I slid my hands underneath my bouncing knees so I wouldn’t flap them around as we talked.
Cole grabbed the apple pie first, taking a small bite with his spoon. “Wow. No wonder Randall wants ten of these a day.” He took another bite, sucking in some air to cool down the crust. “This is amazing.”
I smiled as pride swelled. I knew my desserts were good, but Cole’s approval felt incredible. I hadn’t been this excited about my silly little apple pies since the first night I’d made them for Jamie.
“That’s quite a list.” Cole nodded toward the journal in between bites.
“It is.” My smile faltered at the way his jaw hardened.
“Are you planning on doing these all by yourself?”
“Um, yes.” How else was I going to get through them all?
“That’s going to take a while.”
“I hope not,” I sighed. “My goal is to get them done before New Year’s.”
“What?” His spoon dropped into the jar, clinking against the glass. “That’s less than six months away.”
“I know.” Just thinking about all I still had to do made my shoulders fall. “I thought I could do it, but with the restaurant and some of the bigger things on the list, it will take longer. I was really hoping to have it done before Jamie’s birthday.”
That seemed impossible now. With the restaurant and all of the other things I was adding to my daily schedule, piling on more was going to wear me thin. If I didn’t let up, my self-imposed deadline would stress me to the max.
Which meant it would take just that much longer to put this list behind me. Could I do it if I added another year? Maybe two?
I didn’t have to do this all so soon. But I wanted to. I wanted to do this for Jamie and let it go. Every day, I was getting stronger. I was getting back on my feet. I was starting to live again—for me.
And until the list was done, I’d still be living for Jamie.
“Look.” Cole leaned his elbows on the table. “I don’t want to step on your toes. This
