I woke up in the morning smiling, having dreamt about Reid, his body pressed to mine, dancing to soft music as we had the night before. His eyes had been so warm and inviting, his arms perfect and strong around my body. In my dream, he had kissed me, and I felt like I could still taste his lips even when I woke up.

I got out of bed before Rosie did, leaving her sleeping in the room. I got ready and then crept downstairs, careful to avoid the third step, which squeaked loudly and would often wake my mom up if I wasn’t careful. I walked down the stairs and into the bakery, stretching and yawning. I turned the light on and then the ovens, preparing for the morning in the quiet room while thinking about Reid and our date. I couldn’t stop smiling, replaying the evening in my head. It wasn’t just when he’d pleasured me, either, though that had undoubtedly been the best part—I was thinking about how easy it was to talk to him, how natural things had been between us once we’d started touching. It had felt like he was meant to touch me, like his body was meant for mine. I had wanted so desperately to touch him more, and he had stopped me. Just thinking about it made me shake my head, grinning. He was teasing me, I knew, building up the tension before he finally released it the next time I saw him.

I went about opening the bakery, surprised to see that there were people lined up outside the door by the time I got to unlocking the door. It happened sometimes, but not often, and certainly not since my father died. I welcomed everyone in with a smile, feeling bright and happy, glad to be able to talk to people. I served everyone as they came, and the tables were almost full by the time I gave in and ran upstairs to get my mother.

“Mama,” I said, looking into her room. “I really need your help down here.”

“Is it busy?” she asked, sitting up in bed. She got out and went over to her closet right away, pulling out an outfit to wear for the day. I nodded.

“Very. I’m going to go get Rosie. She’ll have to come sit downstairs with us for now.”

“Okay,” said my mother, waving me off. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Thanks,” I said, running back downstairs to the bakery. There was a line of people waiting who had gotten there even in the short amount of time it had taken me to run upstairs. I beamed at them and apologized, then started to take their orders one by one. It was a few minutes later that my mother came down the stairs, ushering Rosie over to an empty table near the counter. Rosie was equipped with toys and coloring books, and I watched as she sat there and started to color quietly, occasionally looking up at me and offering a cheery smile. My mother went around to the tables, refilling water glasses and coffee while I helped the people at the counter. We ran out of cinnamon rolls, and I had to start a new batch while my mother manned the counter. It hadn’t been this busy in a long time, and the sight of the room filled with people gave me a thrill like it used to when I’d worked with my dad.

It slowed down enough so that I could go over to Rosie, bringing her a cookie on a plate and some lemonade. I sat down across from her and passed her the plate, which she looked at with wide, excited eyes.

“Thanks, Mommy,” she said, picking up the big cookie and taking a bite out of it. I nodded to her, reaching forward to ruffle her already messy hair.

“What are you drawing?” I asked her. She flipped the page around to show me a picture of two stick figures holding hands in front of a big house, one with a porch swing that was colored bright red. It was a good drawing, clear and colorful.

“Is that me and you?” I asked her, pointing at the stick figures. She nodded.

“Can I hang it up out here when you’re finished? I want all the customers to see it.”

Rosie nodded, taking another bite of her cookie. I got up then and left her alone, going back up front to where my mother stood at the counter.

“How was your date last night?” she asked me, after she had helped the last of the customers. “You’re smiling.”

I couldn’t help but smile even wider just thinking of Reid. I glanced at the flowers he had brought me, which were still vivid and lively.

“It was perfect.”

“I’m so glad, honey,” my mom said, putting her hand on my shoulder. “Do you think he might be serious about you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. We had a good time. And he’s so easy to talk to.”

“Did you talk about Rosie at all?”

“He seemed really interested in her. He asked me a lot of questions about her.”

“How does he feel about having kids?” she asked.

“Mama,” I said, shaking my head. “It was our first date. I didn’t ask him if he wanted kids.”

“It should be the first thing you ask someone; Rosie is the most important thing in your life. He’s got to want kids if he wants to be with you.”

“I don’t want to rush things,” I said to her, looking over at Rosie. “I’m taking it slow with Reid. We’ll talk about it eventually.”

My mother sighed, as if exasperated with the fact that I didn’t want to jump into things too quick with Reid. If last night was any indication, we got along well, and I didn’t want to screw that up by jumping into things so fast. Talking about Rosie and the future on our first date would have ruined the casual, sexy vibe between us.

“Well, do you think he’d make a good father?” my mother asked.

“Mama,” I said, shaking my head. “God.”

“What? Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it at all.”

In fact, I had thought about it. It was the first thing I’d had to consider about him at all—if we got serious and he were to be a part of Rosie’s life, he needed to be a positive presence there. He had to be good to her, kind and loving, no matter what happened between the two of us.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I think he’s a good man.”

“He’d better be. You just don’t have time to waste with bad men.”

“I’m only twenty-three,” I protested.

“With a child,” my mother pointed out. “The older she gets, the harder it’s going to be to date.”

“I know, Mama,” I said, sighing. “I like Reid. I just want to take it slow with him, okay?”

“Okay,” she said. She went over to Rosie and helped her grab her toys and her coloring books, then led her upstairs. The rush was over, and I was left alone with only a couple of full tables and my thoughts. I couldn’t help but to consider what my mother had asked me—I wondered what kind of father Reid would be, if he would be as kind and gentle with Rosie as he was with me. I imagined he would, and the thought made me smile as I went back to work.