The Last Piece of Cake

"Looks like the sky's fixin' to bury us six feet deep in snow," I muttered, peering through the frosted windowpane of The Daily Crumb. The bell above the door jingled, and I turned, ready to tell some fool that no, we weren't open during the damn apocalypse. But the words died on my tongue. There he stood, shaking snow from his hair like a wet dog—Silas Reed, my college sweetheart, the man who'd once been my whole world. "Eli," he breathed, looking as stunned as I felt. "Your sign said 'Open.'"

Ten years hadn't done a thing to dull the way my name sounded on his lips. "Silas," I managed, setting down the dough I'd been punching into submission. "What in God's green earth are you doin' in Frostwood?"

"Car trouble," he said, stepping inside and shutting the door against the howling wind. "Battery gave up the ghost just outside town. I was hoping to find a mechanic, but everything's closed." He rubbed his hands together, breath fogging in the chilly air. "Didn't expect to find you here."

"Been here since..." I trailed off, not needing to finish the sentence. Since we broke up. Since you left. "Place is mine now." I gestured at the display case, half-full of pastries. "Was just fixin' to close up, but you're welcome to wait out the worst of it." The words tasted like sawdust, but Mama raised me right.

"Thanks," Silas said, unwinding his scarf. His eyes scanned the bakery, landing on the shelves behind the counter. "You kept it," he murmured, moving closer. There, wedged between a bag of flour and a jar of sugar, was that battered copy of Pride and Prejudice he'd lent me junior year. The one I'd promised to return.

"Never was much for letting go of things," I said gruffly, feeling heat creep up my neck. That book had been a lifeline after he left—a way to feel close to him, even when he was gone. Now, seeing him here, it felt like a ghost haunting the both of us.

Silas reached for the book, running a finger along its spine. "I always wondered what happened to it." His voice was soft, almost lost beneath the wind rattling the windows. Outside, the storm was getting worse, snow piling up against the door like a burial mound.

I watched him, my heart thumping against my ribs. Ten years, and he still looked like home to me. But home had a way of breakin' your heart. I turned away, busying myself with wiping down the counters. "Storm's settlin' in," I said, avoiding his gaze. "You might be stuck here a while."

"I might be," Silas agreed, his voice still soft. He set the book back on the shelf, his fingers lingering for just a moment. "Eli, why did you leave?"

The question hung in the air between us, heavy as the snow outside. I kept my back to him, my knuckles white on the edge of the counter. "You know why."

"No," he said, moving closer. I could feel the heat of him against my back, smell the familiar scent of his cologne beneath the chill of the outdoors. "I never understood. One day we were talking about forever, and the next you were gone. No explanation. No goodbye."

I turned, my heart in my throat. "I heard you," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "That night, at the party. Your friends, they were laughin' about us, callin' us... well, you know what they called us. And you just stood there. You didn't say a thing."

Silas's brow furrowed, confusion written across his face. "What are you talking about?"

"The party," I pressed, my voice cracking. "After the game. I came to find you, and I heard them. They said we were a joke. That you deserved better than some small-town boy with flour on his hands." I swallowed hard, the memory still sharp after all these years. "And you laughed."

Realization dawned on Silas's face, his eyes widening. "Eli, no. That's not what happened." He reached for me, his hand warm on my arm. "They were being assholes, yeah, but I didn't laugh with them. I told them to go to hell. I said that if they couldn't see how lucky I was to have you, then they could fuck right off."

I stared at him, my breath caught in my chest. "You did?"

"Of course I did," he said, his thumb stroking the inside of my wrist. "I loved you, Eli. More than anything. I would never have let anyone talk about you that way." He took a step closer, his other hand coming up to cup my face. "When I turned around, you were gone. I thought... I thought you'd changed your mind about us."

"I didn't," I whispered, leaning into his touch. "I thought you were embarrassed by me. That you wanted someone... shinier."

"Never," Silas murmured, his lips a breath away from mine. "You were always perfect, just as you are." And then he kissed me, and it was like coming home after a long journey. His mouth was warm and familiar, his body fitting against mine like it was always meant to be there.

We stumbled backwards, knocking into the display case, sending a tray of croissants clattering to the floor. Neither of us cared. My hands were in his hair, tugging him closer, and his were under my shirt, mapping the lines of my back like he was trying to memorize them.

"Silas," I gasped, breaking the kiss just long enough to breathe. "The storm."

"Let it rage," he said, his lips trailing down my neck. "We've got time to make up for."

And so we did, right there on the floor of the bakery, surrounded by the smell of sugar and yeast. It was messy and desperate and perfect, ten years of longing poured into every touch. When we were spent, lying in a tangle of limbs and discarded clothes, Silas turned to me, his head pillowed on my chest.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "For all the time we lost."

"I'm sorry too," I murmured, pressing a kiss to his hair. "For not trusting you. For runnin'."

"We can't get that time back," Silas said, propping himself up on one elbow. "But we can make the most of what we've got now." He smiled, and it was like the sun coming out after a long winter. "What do you say, Sourdough? Think you could stand to have me around this town full-time?"

I raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at my own lips. "You plannin' on settlin' down, Confetti?"

"If you'll have me," he said, his expression hopeful. "I've always hated the city anyway. And I hear there's a bakery here that could use a wedding planner on staff."

I laughed, the sound loud in the quiet of the bakery. "A wedding planner, huh? In a town this small?"

Silas shrugged, his grin turning mischievous. "We could expand. Do weddings, parties, all sorts of events. And of course, we'd need a top-notch bakery to cater them." He leaned in, brushing his nose against mine. "What do you say, Eli? Want to build something with me?"

"More than anything," I said, pulling him in for another kiss. Outside, the storm was finally starting to let up, the first fingers of dawn painting the sky pink and gold. Inside, wrapped in Silas's arms, I felt like I'd finally found my way home.

And that, my friends, is how a broken-down car and a blizzard led to the creation of Frostwood's most beloved event space: The Daily Crumb and Confetti. But that's a story for another day.