I run a hand through my hair, my eyes drifting to the case of baked goods beside the checkout counter. There’s no way to ask without showing my hand here, but Emmy seems like the kind of woman I can trust. I motion toward the case. “Do you know if Gracie has a favorite?” Emmy’s expression softens, her lips shifting like she’s fighting a smile. “If she drops by in the morning, she usually gets an apple cinnamon scone. If it’s after work, she’ll get the danish.” “Right.” I nod. “Maybe one of each?”
He’s so thoughtful! 🥰
