Frosted with Love

Chapter 6: Sweetened Moments

The bakery felt like home again. The comforting scent of fresh dough and vanilla filled the air as I worked the dough, each movement grounding me, reminding me of the simplicity and peace this bakery always brought. I paused for a moment, and my thoughts drifted to Sebastian. He didn’t have to take care of me, but he did, and now, standing here feeling like myself again, I realized just how much it meant. I owed him more than a simple thank you.

The bell above the door jingles, and I glance up, expecting another customer in need of a coffee or pastry. But it’s Sebastian, strolling in with that trademark grin plastered across his face.

“Back again?” I ask, trying to sound casual even though a flutter of nerves runs through me. I’ve never quite figured out what it is about him that throws me off guard. Maybe it’s that he always looks like he’s up to something.

“Well, I thought I’d come see what you’re baking today,” he says, leaning against the counter with an easy confidence. “It’s good to see you’re feeling better. I’m glad you’re not sick anymore.” He pauses, his gaze softening a little. “I’ve been thinking, maybe it’s time I learned how to bake myself.”

“But seriously, Sebastian. Thank you. For taking care of me. I really appreciate it. You didn’t have to, but you did, and it meant more to me than I can say.” I pause, then add, “You? Bake?” I raised an eyebrow, amused.

“Why not? I can’t live off just buying pastries, can I?” He winks, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Besides, how hard can it be?” Then, his expression softens as he adds, “And, by the way, you’re welcome. I’m always here for you, Selina. You don’t have to do everything alone.”

I can’t help but smile to myself, a warmth spreading through me at the way he looks at me. It’s hard to ignore how he makes me feel. Like he really cares, in a way that feels more real than anything I’ve experience in a long time.

I laugh, already picturing him covered in flour and making a mess of things. “Okay, sure. I’ll teach you. But fair warning, I’ve got a reputation to uphold. You’ll have to keep up.”

“I’m up for the challenge,” he says, pulling up a stool next to the counter. His posture is casual, like he’s already settled in for the day. “What’s first?”

I glance around the bakery. Customers sitting at tables, the steady hum of conversation. It’s busy, but it’s always busy, and there’s something comforting about it. And now, there’s something even more fun about it, with Sebastian here.

“Alright,” I say, grabbing the bowl of flour and passing it to him. “Let’s start with this. You’re going to need to know how to handle the basics before you can make anything decent.”

He takes the flour with exaggerated care, like he’s holding a fragile treasure, and pours it into the bowl. A little too much flour spills out, and he shoots me a sheepish smile.

“Yeah, not as easy as it looks,” he mutters, running his hand through his hair in mock frustration. “But hey, I’m learning.”

I can’t help but laugh, the sound of it making the tension in the room feel lighter. It’s nice. Being able to laugh freely without worrying about anything else. No project, no deadlines, just a messy kitchen and a guy who’s clearly trying his best.

“Next step is the eggs,” I say, grabbing a few from the fridge. “You’ve got to be gentle with these. No cracking them like a wrestler.”

Sebastian eyes the eggs suspiciously, then looks at me with mock seriousness. “Are you suggesting I don’t have the finesse to crack an egg?”

I shake my head, smiling. “Just don’t make a mess, okay?”

He takes one egg, cracks it with a little too much gusto, and the shell shatters into pieces. A few stray bits of eggshell float into the bowl. I try to hide my laughter, but it’s impossible.

“See?” I say, unable to hold back. “This is exactly what I was warning you about.”

He shrugs, a grin tugging at his lips. “I like to keep things interesting.”

As I pull the eggshells out of the bowl, he leans in close, his shoulder brushing mine, and I can feel the heat radiating off him. My breath catches for a second, but I quickly shake it off. Focus, Selina.

“Alright,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “Let’s move on to the whisking.”

I hand him the whisk, and he takes it with exaggerated care. He begins whisking, but instead of a smooth motion, it’s a little too fast, and the batter splatters out, some even landing on his cheek. I burst into laughter.

“I swear, you’re intentionally trying to make a mess,” I tease, wiping the flour off my hands.

Sebastian smirks, swiping a finger through the batter on his cheek. “If you can’t handle the chaos, you shouldn’t invite me into your kitchen.”

“I didn’t invite you. You invited yourself,” I counter, trying to hide my smile. But it’s useless. He’s just so damn charming.

He holds out his finger, covered in batter. “Taste test?”

I give him a pointed look. “You really think I’m going to taste that?”

“Come on,” he says, offering it like it’s the most innocent thing in the world. “You know you want to.”

Against my better judgment, I lean forward, carefully taking a small taste. “Not bad,” I say, though it’s more the thrill of the moment than the actual taste. “But I’m not eating any more of that. You’ve got some on your cheek, though.”

He grins, swiping his thumb across his cheek and offering it to me with a playful glint in his eyes. “Your turn.”

I laugh, swatting his hand away. “Not a chance.”

We continue to work together, and despite the mess we’re making, there’s something about it that’s effortless. His laughter fills the room, his energy contagious, and soon I’m laughing just as much as he is. The kitchen becomes this little world of its own, just the two of us mixing, whisking, rolling dough, and then trying not to slip on flour-covered floors.

At some point, he jumps up to take an order from a customer, and I watch as he interacts with them with a charm that’s all his own. It’s like he’s been doing this for years, moving from customer to customer, making them laugh, teasing them playfully. They seem to love him here, and I can see why. He’s got a way of making everything feel lighter, more fun.

As he returns to the counter, he notices the photo of my mother sitting next to the register. I freeze for a moment, unsure if I want him to see it, let alone ask about it. But he’s already leaning in, studying the picture with a quiet interest.

“Who’s that?” he asks, his voice softer now, his playful tone gone.

I look over at the photo, my heart suddenly heavier. “That’s my mom,” I say, my voice quieter than I expect. “She... she passed away a few years ago.”

There’s a pause, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s going to say something, or if he’ll just let it drop. But instead, he simply looks at me with understanding in his eyes, like he knows this is a topic I’m not used to talking about. He doesn’t push, doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he gently places his hand on the counter, close to mine, offering silent support.

“You look a lot like her,” he finally says, his voice softer than usual.

The words settle between us, and I can’t help but feel a warmth in my chest. It’s not what I expected, not the teasing or the jokes. But there’s something so comforting in the way he handles it like he understands more than I’m willing to admit.

The moment feels fragile, and I’m not sure why it’s affecting me this much. But before I can say anything else, I hear the bell above the door jingle again, and the moment is broken.

“Alright,” I say, clearing my throat. “Back to baking. I can’t let you ruin the dough completely.”

Sebastian nods, falling silent. His smile fades, and for a moment, it feels like he’s waiting for me to say something. Like he’s giving me space, without pushing. There’s a quiet intensity in his gaze, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s thinking about more than just the bakery.