If anyone had told me even a little over a year ago that I would be sitting in a sunlit bakery, spoon-feeding cake to my husband while he smirked like the devil himself, I would have laughed. Or maybe even cried. But here we were and somehow, this was my life now.
The day had started beautifully. Jace had insisted on driving himself instead of letting Tomas play chauffeur. Tomas was still in LA. He was basically on vacation after all the chaos of the last few months.
Jace said he wanted "a proper date," which made me suspicious because, knowing him, that usually meant something outrageous. But no, we ended up in a cozy bakery downtown, one of those quaint places with pastel walls, fresh flowers on every table, and the warm scent of sugar and butter that wrapped around you the second you walked in. It almost made me wish I had a branch of my bakery here in LA.
