Her distress shaved the edge off his excitement. He held her tight. “Rough day, baby?”
She nodded against his chest, and the fact that she didn’t talk about it told him just how bad it had been. It also told him she wasn’t ready to rehash it quite yet.
“I think I can put a smile on your face.”
She laughed. “You know you can put a smile on my face.”
He reached down and swatted her butt. “Get your mind out of the g
utter, Cupcake. This is totally unrelated to sex. Though you’re welcome to share your excitement over what I’m about to show you with me later.”
“Oh, yeah? Who’s with your dad?”
“Zane’s got him tonight.”
“Mmm.” She lifted her face, pressed her lips to his neck, and kissed him there. “Then I might take you up on that.” She stepped back and finally looked up at him. “What’s the surprise?”
Trace took one look at her puffy, tired eyes and her drawn features and knew she’d been crying. All his excitement drained. “What happened?”
She shook her head and tried to brush it off, but Trace cupped her face and forced her to meet his gaze. “What. Happened?”
She sighed. “I lost Willow.”
Ah shit. Willow was going to be Avery’s backbone. “Why? You were giving her an awesome job and a real leg up.”
Avery lowered her gaze to the bags in her hands, straightening them as she shook her head. “She’s getting ready for college, has a lot going on. Her mom wants her to focus. Thought it was too much for her to take on right now.” She returned her gaze to Trace, and he immediately knew there was more to that story. He could see it in her eyes. “But I talked to Delaney, and we’ve got a couple of other possible replacements we’re going to contact tomorrow.” She patted his chest. “It hit me hard initially, but once I put it in perspective, I’m fine. So, I’m really ready for good news. And your surprise couldn’t have come at a better time. Let’s see it.”
Anger rumbled through Trace; he was sure the fiasco here earlier in the day had contributed to Willow backing out of the manager/assistant-baker position. But he didn’t want to add his own emotions onto those he could see still weighing Avery down, so he took her hand, threaded their fingers, and walked her around to the far side of the building, where he’d parked the rental truck.
“Culinary Depot called,” he told her.
She gasped and her grasp tightened in his. “Oh my God, really?”
“There’s that spark I love.” He grinned at her as they rounded the front of the café. “Really. And I took a break from the roof to go pick up your appliances because I knew the sight of these babies on your property would make you feel a whole lot better than a finished roof. Even though I’ll be done with the roof tomorrow morning.”
At the sight of the truck, she sandwiched his hand in hers and squealed.
Trace laughed, led her to the back of the truck, and pulled open the doors. He couldn’t have been happier for Avery if she’d won the lottery. Because this café and these appliances were her lottery.
They were all wrapped and taped, but Trace had loaded them so there was space to walk down the middle, and now he lifted Avery into the truck and watched her inspect each piece with the joy she deserved in her life every day.
He could honestly say he’d never felt more satisfied with any job he’d ever done. And while he’d seen this kind of equipment dozens of times, Avery oohed and aahed over every little detail—the handles on the fridge, the knobs on the range, the racks inside the ovens, the finishes, even the goddamned wheels.
She stood there a long moment in silence, utterly still, her back to Trace. “It’s all so . . .” She finally murmured, “So . . . real.” Turning, she faced him, fingers threaded at her chest, a wobbling smile and nerves jumping in her eyes. “Oh my God.”
She piled her hands over her heart and looked at the floor of the truck, her chest laboring as if struggling to breathe.
Alarm wiped Trace’s smile away. In one leap, he was in the back of the truck, tilting Avery’s face up to his, and he found her blue eyes swimming in tears. The pulse in her neck thumped fast. “Baby? What is it?”
“I . . . don’t know. It’s . . . so real. So . . . overwhelming.” The tears spilled over. “There’s twenty thousand dollars of equipment in here. What if . . . God, what if this place tanks? What if I can’t make this work? What if I can’t do this?” Panic cut into her expression. She pressed one hand to her forehead and one to her stomach, like she was going to be sick. “Holy shit,” she whispered, looking around again. “I . . . Oh my God.”
She covered her face with both hands, and when she swayed, Trace was glad he was standing right there to steady her.
“Hey, don’t let your fears run away with you.” He pulled her to him and wrapped her in his arms. “You can totally do this. You have your entire family behind you. I’m behind you. Even if the unforeseen happens, none of us are going to let you tank. But most importantly, you won’t let yourself tank, Avery, and you know it.”
Her warm sigh of relief drifted through the cotton of his T-shirt. But her muscles remained tense, and a tremor shivered through her body. Her arms were curled around his waist, fisted in the back of his shirt, holding him close. Her cheek rested against his chest.
“Shh,” he murmured, stroking her back. “You’re in the final stretch. This is where everything comes together. You’ve done all the heavy lifting—now let it carry you through. You just have to focus on the small details—stocking your fridge, finalizing your staff, and getting the word out about your grand opening. You need to direct this nervous energy into leveraging all the plans and people and marketing programs you already have in place, baby. It’s all going to come together. Have faith in yourself.” He kissed her head. “I have five hundred percent faith in you.”