Walker's penthouse felt like a palace with no queen. He stood by the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the city, but his mind was still in that tiny bakery kitchen—still tasting Lena's kiss, still hearing her soft laugh. He'd gone to see her impulsively, wanting nothing more than the comfort of her eyes and the feel of her arms around him. What he didn't expect was how hard it would be to leave.
His phone buzzed with a reminder: Quarterly Strategy Meeting – 9:00 AM. He dragged himself away from the window and into the elevator. Harper Global couldn't run itself, even if he felt like half of him was still back at the bakery.
By the time he stepped into the boardroom, the energy was sharp and expectant. Ava, his executive assistant, handed him a folder. "Updates from the finance team. And just so you know, your father's old advisor is joining this session."
Walker sighed. "Great."
The meeting kicked off with reports and projections, numbers and market trends. Walker contributed, asked questions, nodded at the right moments—but Lena hovered at the edge of his thoughts like an unfinished sentence. He could hear her voice, taste the coffee she always made too sweet.
Ava leaned over at one point and whispered, "You okay?"
Walker blinked. "Yeah. Just tired."
But it was more than that. He was distracted in a way that made the work feel mechanical, not invigorating. Harper Global was his responsibility, something he'd trained for, fought to uphold after his father's health declined. But today, the boardroom felt cold. Hollow.
After the meeting, he returned to his office and sank into the leather chair, rubbing the back of his neck. A photo of his father on the shelf caught his eye. He'd never known how much pressure that legacy would carry. And now, with Lena back in his life, it all felt heavier.
Later that afternoon, as the snow began to fall again, Lena stood in the bakery's front window, watching flakes dust the sidewalk. Business had been steady, her new winter specials were a hit, and she'd finally figured out how to keep the gingerbread loaves from cracking. By all accounts, things were good.
But the kiss that morning had shifted something inside her.
She wasn't a teenager anymore, crushing from afar. She'd buried those feelings a decade ago. But now, they were sprouting back up with terrifying speed. And this time, they weren't innocent. They were real, physical, and impossible to ignore.
Her phone buzzed. Walker: Still thinking about this morning. Dinner tonight? My place?
Her heart leapt. She typed back: Dangerous idea.
Walker: That's a yes?
She smiled, thumbs hovering before replying: I'll bring dessert.
And as she turned back toward the kitchen, cheeks flushed, Lena knew this wasn't just a fling. Something was happening. Something slow, sweet, and undeniably deep. And even if it scared her—she didn't want to stop.
After texting Walker, Lena lingered in the kitchen, her hands resting on the counter as if steadying herself against the pull he had on her. She wasn't naive—this wasn't just about kisses or stolen moments. This was about a man who had always been just out of reach now standing in front of her, arms open, asking for more. And the part that terrified her most wasn't that she might fall again—it was that this time, he might catch her.
Back at his penthouse, Walker opened his fridge and stared blankly inside. He wasn't hungry—not for food anyway. What he craved was the feeling of her presence. The way she made the world quieter, sharper, more vivid. As he pulled out ingredients and poured wine, he told himself this was just dinner. But deep down, he knew better. Tonight wasn't just about dessert. Tonight might change everything.