NATASHA'S POV
The insistent buzz of my phone vibrated against the counter, a jarring interruption to the clatter of dishes and the rhythmic calls of orders. I wiped my soapy hands on the edge of my apron, a flicker of annoyance crossing my face before it softened as I saw Jace's name illuminate the screen. A small smile, unbidden, tugged at my lips. A delicate thread of anticipation had woven itself into my days, a quiet hope that something meaningful was taking root.
I ducked into a quieter corner behind the counter, the noise of the diner fading slightly. "Hey," I said, trying to keep my voice light above the background din.
"Natasha," his voice was warm, a familiar comfort that settled over me. "Hope I'm not catching you at a bad time."
"No, no, it's fine," I assured him, glancing around to make sure my absence hadn't been noticed. "Just the usual lunchtime rush."
A brief pause. "Listen, I was wondering... would you be free today? I, um... I wanted to take you somewhere."
My heart did a little skip, a sudden flutter of excitement. "Somewhere?" I echoed, a playful curiosity coloring my tone.
"Yeah," he said, and I could almost hear the slight hesitation in his voice. "It's a... surprise. No pressure at all, of course. But I'd really like for you to come."
My thumb traced the worn surface of the counter. The thought of spending time with him outside the confines of the diner, beyond the hurried exchanges and brief moments, sent a pleasant warmth spreading through me. "I think I could be persuaded by a surprise," I replied, my voice softening, a hint of invitation in it.
"Great!" His relief was almost palpable. "How about... after work? I can pick you up after you're done with work."
"That sounds lovely," I confirmed, the smile on my face widening.
"Wonderful," he said, his voice regaining its usual easy confidence. "I'll text you the details later. Looking forward to it, Natasha."
"Me too, Jace," I replied, the smile lingering as I ended the call and returned to the chaos of the lunch rush.
Today crawled by with agonizing slowness. Lisa, naturally, had extracted every detail of the phone call and spent the better part of the day peppering me with teasing questions, her eyes practically sparkling with speculation. By the time Jace's text arrived, that he's on his way to pick me, my nerves were a complex blend of excitement and a touch of trepidation.
I took a deep breath, smoothing down my dress one last time in the mirror before heading out. Jace arrived promptly, his smile when he saw me illuminating his entire face. He was dressed casually but impeccably, and the way his eyes lingered on mine, a slow, appreciative sweep, sent a familiar warmth radiating through me.
"Ready for your surprise?" he asked, a playful glint dancing in his eyes as he opened the car door for me with a flourish.
"As ready as I'll ever be," I replied, a nervous excitement fluttering in my chest.
The drive was filled with the easy flow of conversation that seemed to come so naturally between us, a comfortable rhythm that made the miles melt away. He dropped tantalizing hints about our destination, each one more intriguing than the last. We eventually pulled up in front of a newly renovated building, the soft glow of interior lighting spilling onto the sidewalk. The sign above the door was simple and elegant: "The Stitching Nook."
Jace turned to me, his expression a mixture of anticipation and something akin to vulnerability. "Remember you mentioned your tailoring? How much you loved it, but it was just a side passion?"
My breath caught in my throat. I nodded slowly, a growing sense of disbelief beginning to bloom. My mind raced back to that casual conversation we had about my dreams.
He got out of the car and came around to open my door, his hand gently resting on my elbow as he guided me towards the entrance. "Come on," he said softly, his eyes searching mine.
Stepping inside, I was met with a sight that stole the words from my lips. The space was breathtaking – well-lit, with gleaming wooden floors that reflected the warm glow of the lamps, and walls painted in a calming shade of sage green. Several brand-new sewing machines were lined up along sturdy tables, bolts of vibrant fabrics were stacked neatly on shelves that reached the ceiling, and elegant mannequins were draped in various stages of design, showcasing the potential of the space. It was a seamstress's dream, a fully furnished and equipped haven.
My eyes welled up, a lump forming in my throat that made it hard to swallow. I turned to Jace, my voice barely a whisper, laced with awe and a touch of bewilderment. "Jace... what is all this?"
He watched my reaction intently, his expression a careful blend of anticipation and that underlying vulnerability. He shifted his weight slightly, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. "It's for you, Natasha. A place to... to really do what you love. To be your own boss."
Disbelief warred with a surge of overwhelming emotion. "I... I can't," I stammered, shaking my head, my hands fluttering nervously. "This is... too much."
He stepped closer, his hands gently reaching out to take mine. His gaze was earnest, his green eyes searching mine, his thumbs stroking the back of my hands in a comforting rhythm. "Natasha, you deserve this. You're talented, and you're working so hard. Why not work for yourself, doing something you're passionate about?"
Tears threatened to spill over, blurring the beautiful space around me. "But... but I can't just accept something like this," I protested, my voice thick with emotion. I pulled my hands away, taking a step back.
"Then don't accept it as a gift," he said softly, his voice dropping to a near whisper, his eyes pleading with me to understand. He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch my arm. "Consider it... an investment in your future. In your happiness."
I hesitated, my gaze darting around the shop again, taking in the possibilities. The thought of actually working here, of turning my passion into my livelihood, was both exhilarating and terrifying. It was a dream I hadn't dared to truly entertain, a whisper in the back of my mind. But the sheer scale of Jace's gesture felt immense, overwhelming. My chest tightened.
"I... I would have to pay you back," I finally managed, my voice barely audible, laced with a mix of gratitude and a sense of obligation. I met his gaze, my own searching for any hidden agenda.
Jace's smile softened, a genuine warmth radiating from him. He squeezed my hands gently. "Instead of that... how about you be my cook?"
My brows furrowed in confusion, my head tilting slightly. "Your cook?"
He chuckled, a playful glint returning to his eyes, the tension in his shoulders easing. He stepped back, gesturing around the shop. "Yeah. I've been looking for someone who can actually cook, and you mentioned you enjoyed it. Consider it... a trade. You get this incredible space, and I get delicious home-cooked meals." He winked, a mischievous spark in his eyes.
I stared at him, my mind reeling, a wave of conflicting emotions washing over me. The sheer audacity of his offer, the incredible generosity of the shop itself... it was almost too much to comprehend. The thought of being my own boss, of having the creative freedom to design and create, of finally pursuing my passion... it was a dream I'd only ever allowed myself to glimpse in stolen moments. But the weight of Jace's gesture felt immense, a responsibility I wasn't sure I was ready to shoulder.
"Jace, I..." I began, my voice faltering, my hands twisting in front of me.
He waited patiently, his gaze unwavering, his expression a study in earnest hope. He didn't push, didn't pressure. He simply offered.
I took a deep breath, my mind racing, trying to reconcile the practicalities with the overwhelming emotional pull of his offer. The diner... it was a means to an end, a necessity, but it wasn't my soul's calling. This... this was everything I had ever secretly longed for. The thought of being able to provide for Kiara and Ciara by doing something I truly loved... it was incredibly tempting, a siren song that whispered promises of fulfillment and independence.
"I... I need to think about it," I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper, laced with a mixture of awe, gratitude, and a healthy dose of fear. I stepped away from him, needing space to process the enormity of what he was offering. "This is... a lot to take in."
A gentle understanding flickered in his eyes, his expression softening. He nodded slowly, his grip on my hands relaxing slightly. "Of course," he said softly, his voice reassuring, his gaze steady. "Take all the time you need. But please, Natasha... consider it seriously. You deserve this."