Butter & Bloom Part 2

Chapter 14: Nora's Groove

It was amazing, really, how quickly a ritual could root itself once it was planted in good soil.

A few days had passed since the creation of Ain’t Your Business Blueberry Slap pie and Nora—who once tiptoed through her own life like it was someone else’s glass house—had found herself looking forward to Thursday nights the way some people looked forward to payday or the first ripe peach of summer. Whether it was Penny’s mismatched wine glasses or Del’s theory that any soup could be “jazzed up” with vodka (she wasn’t wrong), it was a kind of salve. A recalibration.

Nora was finally proud to say that ‘she had plans’ one day of the week. With Del and Penny.

The best part? She didn’t feel guilty for it.

Well—maybe a flicker, here and there. But she ignored it like one ignores a fly at a picnic: waved off, not welcome. Because more often than not, when she came home from the café, the apartment was quiet. Wade had started keeping... irregular hours.

Sometimes he was already asleep, the faint hum of the TV and a bowl of stale pretzels keeping him company. Other times, he wasn’t there at all, no note, no text message. Just a used mug in the sink or the citrusy trace of perfume she picked up on his clothes.

She didn’t ask.

And that, in itself, felt like its own quiet revolution.

It was a Tuesday lunch rush when Penny—covered in flour and looking suspiciously smug—nudged Nora near the espresso machine. “Guess who came in yesterday?”

Nora didn’t look up. “Was it Frank again? I swear he’s using the water meter as an excuse to flirt.”

“Nope,” Penny said, dragging out the syllable. “Although he did come by my place late last night and filled my mailbox with his—”

Nora raised an eyebrow.

“—cock.” Penny finished.

Nora smirked. She enjoyed Penny’s frankness. “Who stopped by?”

“It was your good doctor.”

Nora’s head snapped up.

Penny grinned. “Mm-hmm. Dr. Simon Everhart, M.D., F.L.I.R.T.”

“Stop,” Nora said, but she was already smiling.

“He came in asking for you, by the way. Very politely and off-hand. Even offered to wait, but Del told him you were off yesterday for a dental appointment.”

Nora blinked. “He asked for me?”

“Well, not in a ‘Where’s Nora, my soul aches without her’ sort of way. But yes, he asked. And then—oh, get this—he told Del he read that scone recipe you gave him the other week and actually tried baking it.”

“He what?” Nora nearly dropped the clean coffee carafe.

Penny nodded, clearly delighted. “Said it turned out like ‘slightly overworked bread with hints of regret.’ His words.”

Nora laughed, hard. “That sounds exactly like something he’d say.”

“And then he bought two lemon-ginger loaves, four honey butter cookies, and a cinnamon roll. One of the big ones. Said he was ‘doing research.’”

Nora tried not to let her mind spin at the thought of Simon reading her recipe, apron askew in some cozy kitchen, scowling at dough and talking to himself. A warm bloom settled low in her chest—half embarrassment, half something else. Something tender.

“You really missed it,” Penny added. “He and Del got into a whole debate over whether chocolate chips belong in banana bread.”

“They don’t,” Nora said automatically.

“Tell that to Del,” Penny said. “Anyway, Simon was charming. Too charming. Like, borderline suspicious. You’d like him.”

“I do like him,” Nora said before she could stop herself.

Penny tilted her head.

“I mean—” Nora fumbled, grabbing a towel to wipe down the counter that didn’t need it. “He’s just… good company. As a doctor.”

But that wasn’t it. Not really.

Later that day, with the lull between the lunch and afternoon coffee crowd offering rare quiet, Nora found herself near the display case, rearranging lemon bars with too much precision. Her thoughts wandered again.

Simon.

She didn’t know everything about him. Not yet. But the pieces she’d gathered when he’d talked about his life so far felt… solid. No jagged edges. He didn’t posture or fill silences with bravado. He didn’t seem to mind being wrong or tired or vulnerable. She liked that about him.

And she liked how he looked at her—thoughtfully. As though she were made of more than just kindness and crust. He saw things, and not just on ultrasounds, or a blood pressure reading.

Nora leaned her hip against the counter and let herself feel it fully.

That new something—fluttery, low, delicate but persistent. Not quite a crush, but not platonic either. Like a dough just beginning to rise. She’d relived their collision in the clinic all those days ago. His hands grazing her torso. The side of her breast. And she, grazed his softer stomach.. She liked that he liked sweets. She liked even more that he’d taken to baking on his own. And now, according to Penny, he had come into the café to buy even more baked goods.

“Hey.” Penny’s voice cut through her reverie. “You rearranged those lemon bars so much they’re starting to look nervous.”
Nora blinked.

Penny leaned in. “You were thinking about him, weren’t you?”

“…maybe.”

Penny handed her a dish towel. “Dry these before you start sculpting a bust of him out of buttercream.”

Nora laughed and obeyed.

But the image lingered.

Simon. At her counter. Trying his best with her recipe, even if it turned into bread-shaped sadness. Asking for her by name. Eating her food—more of her food—like it meant something. Like she meant something. Nora smiled at the thought that their continued to blossom while Wade seemed to be withering on the vine. She didn’t want to put it out into the universe, but she had thought about it.

What might life be like…if there was no Wade?

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