Chapter 8 - The Rebuilding
Two weeks later, the morning sun poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Sweet Flour Bakery.
The counter was covered in fresh glass displays filled with golden croissants, dark chocolate tarts, and three tiers of Nora’s signature raspberry cream cakes. The scent of roasted espresso beans and baked butter filled Third Street.
A line of twenty customers stretched out the front door onto the pavement.
Nora stood behind the counter, wearing a clean white apron embroidered with her initials in gold thread, a bright, beautiful smile on her face as she handed a bakery box to an elderly regular customer.
"Thank you, Mrs. Gable! See you on Thursday!"
Through the front window, a black Maybach pulled up to the curb.
Damian stepped out, wearing a immaculate charcoal grey suit, his dark hair neatly styled. He didn't look like a dangerous underworld figure. He looked like the proudest man in Manhattan.
He walked into the bakery, the small brass bell above the door chiming softly.
The customers in line shifted respectfully, recognizing him immediately, but Damian didn't look at any of them. He walked straight to the end of the counter where Nora stood wiping down a marble tray.
"You're late for your coffee break, Miss Whitaker," Damian said, leaning over the glass counter.
Nora looked up, her hazel eyes sparkling with playful warmth. "I have twenty people waiting for tarts, Mr. Vale. Business comes first."
Damian reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a small white card, and slid it across the marble counter toward her.
Nora paused, looking down at the card.
Written on it, in Damian’s sharp, elegant handwriting, were three words:
Marry me today.
Nora gasped softly, her hand flying to her mouth as she looked up into his eyes.
"Damian..." she whispered.
"No sixty-two guests," Damian said softly, reaching across the counter to take her flour-dusted hand in his. "No Alder House. No speeches. Just you, me, Leo, and your mother at the small chapel in St. Patrick's at three o'clock."
He reached into his pocket and placed the heavy velvet box on the marble counter between them. He opened the lid, revealing the magnificent six-carat diamond ring catching the morning sunlight.
The entire bakery went silent as the customers watched from the line.
Nora looked at the ring, then up at the hard, noble face of the man who had fought through fire, rain, and dark ghosts to keep her safe.
"On one condition," Nora said, her voice trembling with joy.
Damian raised an eyebrow. "Name it."
May you like
"You have to eat two raspberry tarts before we go," she smiled, tears of pure happiness shining in her eyes.
Damian laughed—a rich, deep, joyful sound that echoed through the warm bakery—and pulled her across the counter into a deep, breathtaking kiss that made the entire line of customers break into loud, cheering applause.
