By Tuesday morning, the rain had cleared, but Lena's thoughts were cloudier than ever.
She'd barely slept the night before, replaying the kiss again and again. Walker's words—"I'd rather be scared with you than safe without you"—echoed in her mind like a song she couldn't turn off.
She tried to lose herself in the usual bakery prep: mixing, measuring, shaping dough. But everything felt different now. Every routine beat with an undercurrent of change.
"Earth to Lena," came a familiar voice.
She looked up from the flour-dusted counter to see Ava leaning against the doorway, sipping an iced coffee and wearing her most suspicious expression.
"You kissed him, didn't you?" Ava said.
Lena's eyes widened. "How do you do that?"
Ava grinned. "You've got that dazed, I-just-fell-hard look in your eyes. Either that or you've been sampling too many pastries."
Lena sighed and leaned on the counter. "I kissed him. Well, he kissed me. But I kissed him back."
"And?"
"And it was… everything," Lena whispered, like she was still afraid to say it out loud. "But I don't know what happens next."
Ava looked serious for once. "Are you happy?"
"Yes. And terrified."
"That's how you know it matters."
Before Lena could respond, the front door chimed and a customer walked in. But it wasn't just anyone—it was Madeline.
Wearing an impeccable white trench coat, heels that had no business on Main Street, and that signature sharp smile, she strode in like she owned the place.
"Lena," she said smoothly. "What a quaint little shop. So nostalgic."
Lena wiped her hands on her apron and forced a polite nod. "Madeline."
"I was just in town reviewing some properties. Thought I'd drop in." Her gaze scanned the room, lingering on the fresh raspberry tarts cooling behind the counter. "You're doing well. That's good to see."
Ava stepped up beside Lena, arms crossed. "Can we help you with something?"
Madeline smiled, ignoring Ava entirely. "I suppose I'm just curious. How much longer you plan to hold out?"
Lena stiffened. "Excuse me?"
"I've made a generous offer for this location before," Madeline said, voice syrupy sweet. "You might want to consider it again. Word is, this street won't look the same a year from now."
Ava bristled, but Lena held up a hand.
"This bakery belonged to my father," she said. "It's staying right where it is."
Madeline's smile thinned. "Just thought I'd offer. For old time's sake. And for Walker."
She turned on her heel and left the shop, heels clicking like punctuation marks.
Ava let out a breath. "She's the devil in designer."
Lena was still staring at the door. "She's not going to stop."
Ava placed a hand on her arm. "Then don't you dare back down."
That afternoon, Walker showed up again. No coffee, no suit—just a quiet look of concern.
"She came to see you, didn't she?" he asked.
Lena nodded. "She said you'd be involved in changing the block."
"I'm not," he said firmly. "She doesn't speak for me."
She looked into his eyes, searching. "And what do you want, Walker?"
He stepped closer, his voice steady.
"I want you. This place. Us—whatever that looks like."
And in that moment, Lena knew: if they stood together, even the strongest storms couldn't wash them away.