Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“For a bunch of people that look like they do nothing but work out and eat raw steak, they demolished those donuts.” She shakes her head at the empty plates. “I’m serious, Keels. We’re going to need five times that amount for my family.”
“Good. It’ll be great practice.” I touch her arm, squeezing gently. “I’m really happy you decided to come back.”
“Yeah, yeah, me too. I should never have walked away, I was just pissed and fed up and—” She stops herself, smiling awkwardly. “I’m happy I’m back.”
We leave it at that. Nolan returns, takes off his jacket, and rolls up his sleeves. “I assume you two will need a hand cleaning this all up?”
“We need more than a hand,” Jamila says, ferrying a tray into the back. “We need an army.”
“Thank you,” I say, kissing his cheek. “But, uh, we have to start getting prepped for tomorrow already.”
“I can help with that too.”
“Seriously, Nolan, I’m sure you have other things—”
“Nothing is more important to me than you are.” He kisses me, holding it there for a long moment, and I luxuriate in this glowing feeling.
The feeling of being loved, being wanted.
The feeling of mattering to someone.
“All right then, husband,” I murmur, grinning up at him. “Think you can wrangle up a few more hands? We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“Lucky for you, I know a few guys that are available, and will do basically anything for the right amount of money.”
“Good. But they don’t need to murder anyone. Unless someone insults my donuts.”
He laughs, kissing my cheek. “If anyone does that in my presence, I promise I’ll make them disappear.”
“Ah, the perks of being a mob wife.”
“Shall I make some calls?”
“Please do. And hey—” He pauses as he holds his phone up to his ear, eyebrow raised. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he says, his face lighting up.
I carry a tray into the back, feeling warm, happy, and free.
Chapter 45
Keely
The sun hasn’t risen yet and my feet already hurt.
Actually, everything hurts. My back, my shoulders, my knees. My big, enormous belly. Jamila’s bustling around, moving twice as fast and doing ten times the work, but I try to carry my weight.
“You can take a break, you know,” she says, slipping past me with a tray for the glazer.
Our first employee, a young girl named Fallen, hustles by going the other way. “She’s right. You’re due, what, next week?”
“Yesterday,” I complain. “I was due yesterday.”
Fallen stops in her tracks. “And you came in here, at five in the morning, to make freaking donuts? You should be at home. Hell, you should be in the hospital getting all the drugs.”
I wave her off. “I’m fine. Being on my feet helps. Well, maybe. Allegedly.”
“All right, enough, come on.” Jamila escorts me to a nearby stool. “Sit down, take a break. The donuts will be here when you’re ready.”
I try to protest, but the kitchen continues on without me. Our second ever employee, Arabella, gives me a wink as she mixes batter. Then there’s Evie, working the glazing station, as the others ferry donuts and dough all over the place.
The kitchen’s coordinated chaos. We’ve been doing this for a few months now, and things couldn’t be going better. The front’s packed every morning with a line down the black, and my personal recipe donut is by far the favorite. No matter how many we make, it sells out in an hour. Jamila’s already talking about hiring more people and expanding in a nearby neighborhood.
But we’re taking it slow for now. Making sure we’re profitable. Really getting the process and the recipes right. Making sure demand is stable and this isn’t some fluke.
Despite my worries, every day is like heaven.
Even though I’m getting up at an ungodly hour to commute from the house in the suburbs, the lack of sleep is easily worth it. I’ve never felt happier, more fulfilled than I do in this place, working with these girls, running my own business. And each afternoon, after we close, I head on over to Smoke where I spend time with my other family.
The back door opens. I look over as Nolan steps into the kitchen. The girls greet him as he passes out coffees, the way he does most mornings, and finally spots me. I wave to him, feeling sheepish.
“You’re sitting down,” he says. “Why are you sitting down?”
“Jamila made me.”
“Good.” He kisses my cheek. “You should still be at home.”
“I’m fine. Just pregnant. The more I move around, the more likely it is this baby’s gonna get out of me.” I stand, swatting his hands away as he tries to help. “I know I’m huge, okay, like a walking bus, but—” I gasp as something sharp tightens in my stomach.
It radiates out, down through my core to my back. I groan, grabbing onto Nolan for support. His eyes widen in panic. I clutch him, fingers digging tightly into him, until it passes seconds later.