“Yes, and we owe you. That’s one of the reasons we wanted to thank you when we came by a few weeks ago. Your suggestion to take that cooking class was exactly what I needed. Something just clicked for me that night at Enticing Appetizers. I knew Cassidy was the one for me forever. And the next night I proposed.”

As an orderly pushes a med cart down the corridor, I back against the wall, giving him room. “Huh,” I say, taking in Kevin’s news. “So it all became clear?”

“Like crystal.”

I flash back to the night Josie and I attended the quirky class, and how we made our great escape, fleeing from Ivory and then rumbling uptown on the subway, heading home. How, there on the train, Josie rested her head on my shoulder and threaded her hand in mine.

And it was clear.

Then later at our house, she took care of me when I twisted my ankle.

And it was clear.

A part of me knew then. A part of me was damn sure that she felt the same wild and crazy way I did. And I didn’t say enough at the time to hold on to her. I didn’t go out on a limb.

I took the safe option, not the risky, daring, hallelujah one.

Something else is clear right now, too. I haven’t moved on. I’m not over her. And I definitely don’t want to be just friends with Josie.

I want to know I can text her about a goddamn tuna fish sandwich, and I want to send that message as her man. I don’t want to fire it off as her favorite guy friend. I want to tell her about the tuna, then take her out to dinner and wander around the city with her, hand in hand. After that I want to go home with her, fall into bed with her, and love her.

That’s what I wanted a few weeks ago when I moved out. My heart, for her, hasn’t changed.

But what’s crystal clear now is that the bigger risk isn’t losing her as a friend. The bigger risk is losing the woman I’m pretty damn sure is the love of my life.

“Hey Kevin, can you help me with something?” I ask, remembering the corporate name on his business card. The guy’s job might be just the ticket. He’s got to know people, right?

“Anything. Name it.”

I tell him what I need, and he says, “Consider it done.”

When we hang up, I send Josie a text.

* * *

Chase: Hey! Any chance I can stop by the bakery when my shift ends? I have something for you.

* * *

Her response comes a minute later.

* * *

Josie: Yes. I have something for you, too.

There’s someone else I need to talk to first. I text Wyatt and he gives me the address where he’s working today.

The second my shift ends, I hop on my bike in my scrubs and ride across town to Wyatt’s job site, adrenaline fueling me, turning me back into the speed demon I’ve always been. He’s remodeling a kitchen in a brownstone in the West Eighties, and he comes to the door and lets me into the foyer.

“What’s the deal? You said it was mission critical,” he says, a hammer in his hand, his tool belt on.

My breath comes fast and hard from the two-wheeled sprint. “Yes. It’s critical.” I cut to the chase. “I need you to know I’m in love with your sister.”

He scoffs and runs his free hand over his chin. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

My jaw drops. “What? How did you know?”

He clasps my shoulder and laughs. “Dude, everyone knows that. The question now is: Are you finally going to do something about it?”

I can barely contain a grin. “Yes. I’m going to do something about it. Are you okay with it? If you’re not, I’m sorry, but not sorry. I’m going to tell her anyway. Even so, I wanted you to know before I do it.”

He laughs. “Appreciate the heads-up. And when I asked you to look out for her, it was to protect her from jackasses. I’m pretty sure you’re not one of them. I’m also pretty sure this isn’t the kind of story where the fact that you’re in love with your buddy’s sister holds you back. The hurdle has always been how much the two of you already care about each other,” he says, and squeezes my shoulder harder. “Besides, I approve of you so much it’s ridiculous. Now, stop talking to me, and go see my sister. See if you can become her favorite person in the universe.”

That’s exactly what I want to be for her.

“Thanks, man,” I say, then we hug. But, you know, a manly hug.

I leave. But when I reach Sunshine Bakery, take off my helmet and lock up my bike by a meter, I pat the pockets of my scrubs and curse. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m showing up empty-handed. That’s not how you win a woman’s heart.

I spin around, looking for something. Anything.

When my eyes land on a sea of white and yellow, I’m struck with the memory of giving her daisies. That seems far too long ago. But this time, the gift has another purpose. I buy a bouquet from her friend’s flower shop, and as I reach the door of the bakery, my heart jackhammers.

Excitement trips through me, and a full dose of nervousness races alongside it, too. I don’t know how she feels, what she’ll say, or what she’ll do.

But I know the possibility of an us is worth the risk.

This once felt like a hallelujah scenario.

Now it is the only option.

37

The closed sign rests on the door, but I knock twice. Looking up from her post behind the counter, Josie smiles, wipes her hands on her apron, and heads to the door. Unlocking it, she lets me in. Her hair is swept back in a ponytail, and her lips shine with gloss.