Six Months Ago
Sky didn't believe in fate.
He believed in fresh pastry, early sunsets, and second chances—but not fate. Definitely not mafia princes showing up in his café like the opening scene of a bad romance movie.
But there he was.
Tall, in a black leather jacket that looked criminally expensive—and criminal in general—standing in front of the pastry case like it offended him personally.
"Can I help you?" Sky asked, trying not to stare too obviously at the guy's jawline.
He didn't answer. Just looked at the lemon tarts like he was trying to decode them. Or maybe planning their murder.
Sky cleared his throat. "They're not poisoned, if that's what you're thinking."
That got a flicker of a reaction. One brow raised. A half-step closer.
"…I'll take one," the guy said finally. His voice was low. Controlled. Like a threat in a suit.
Sky handed him the tart and rang him up. "Name for the order?"
The guy looked at him. Really looked at him. Like no one ever asked that question without already knowing.
"Day," he said. "Like night and—"
"Yeah, I got it," Sky interrupted, grinning. "I'm Sky. So that makes us opposites. Day and Sky."
"Does that make us a cliché?" Day asked dryly.
Sky didn't miss a beat. "Only if you fall in love with me."
And for just a second, Day froze.
Then he took the tart, nodded once, and walked out.
Sky didn't expect him to come back.
But the next morning, there he was again. Same jacket. Different kind of look in his eyes.
This time, he ordered two lemon tarts.
And every day after that, he kept coming back.
Sky still didn't believe in fate.
But he started to believe in Day.