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CHAPTER 1
Addison
Addison did her level best to not think the words at least it can’t get any worse. The last thing she needed was to jinx the ever-loving shit out of herself.
It could always get fucking worse.
But damnit, her life was shaping up to majorly suck right now. The café where she worked her ass off for the last nine years would close its doors for good on Christmas Eve. And because the universe had a dick sense of humor, her roommate Kate asked her last night to move out by January sixteenth. Thirty days to find a new place to live when she was a week away from unemployment. Yippee.
“I know it’s shit timing,” Kate had said, genuine guilt in her eyes and filling her voice. “Noah’s lease is up on January twentieth, and we’re ready to move in together. We don’t want to wait another year. I’m so sorry.”
Addison couldn’t even be mad at her best friend. Kate and Noah were the most adorable couple on the face of the planet. Deliriously in love with each other, respectfully talking out disagreements instead of fighting, and splitting things like cooking and housework 50/50.
Hell, the guy regularly wore a T-shirt that said On Wednesdays We Smash the Patriarchy. Her bestie had found one of the good ones, and she wasn’t about to stand in their way.
Addison had no doubt they’d let her stay longer if her only other option was a bench in Central Park, but it would be better for everyone if she got her shit together ASAP. Their Upper East Side apartment wasn’t much bigger than a walk-in closet, and it had taken months to get into a routine with Kate where they weren’t constantly in each other’s way. The three of them wouldn’t be able to manage for long—especially since Noah worked from home ninety-nine percent of the time.
Sighing, Addison finished wiping down the café’s kitchen counters, tossed her apron into the half-full washing machine for Lola to run later, and clocked out. It was only a few minutes shy of noon. At least that gave her the rest of the day to search for a new job.
She was the head (and only) baker at Lola’s Café on Second Avenue, and arrived by five every morning to make the day’s assortment of breads and pastries. Seven days a week for the last nine years, without ever even taking a vacation day, because she thought she and Lola were in this shit together. That if she paid her dues, Lola would let her take over the mortgage payments and run the café when she retired.
The little coffee and pastry shop had done good business for the last nine years, even staying afloat during lockdowns thanks to delivery services, but it never quite reached the level they expected. They remained consistently in the black, but barely. The only way for Lola to get the cash she needed to spend her golden years soaking up the rays on a beach was to sell the property, and Addison had no chance of getting approved for a loan that big.
Fucking hell, she couldn’t even be mad at Lola. The woman just celebrated her seventieth birthday. She deserved to retire down in Florida, and it wasn’t her fault things worked out the way they did. They’d both put everything they had into making the café a success, but life doesn’t always go as planned.
It was just so goddamn unfair. Addison was getting fucked over from every side, and she didn’t even have anyone to blame.
Burying the urge to scream and throw shit, she headed out into the dining room. Fuck, she’d miss this place. The metal tables and chairs that looked like they belonged in an old movie set on the streets of Paris. The faded cream wallpaper with little blue flowers she and Lola picked out together. The gleaming display case she stocked with freshly baked goodies every morning.
The ambiance.
The smell.
I will not cry.
She recognized two of the three people sipping coffee at the little round tables. They were among her most loyal customers, a stunningly beautiful couple who came in almost every day—often with their two-year-old daughter, who inherited her father’s sandy blond hair and her mother’s brown eyes. They apparently lived in one of the massive brownstones close to the park and were two of the nicest people despite being crazy rich.
Another few days and she might never see them again.
Addison wanted to grow old in this tiny café—wanted it so damn badly, her chest ached with the loss. She rubbed her sternum with the heel of her hand, not that it helped. She’d never been in love, but she had a feeling this was what heartbreak felt like.
Gritting her teeth, she tried to hold it together as she made her way up the café’s long, narrow dining room. Their two part-time employees, Joey and Alyssa, both started new jobs within a week of the big announcement, so Lola was the only one behind the counter. “See you in the morning,” Addison said, managing to sound almost normal.
Lola wasn’t looking at her, though. Her gaze was locked with the third person in the dining room—the one she’d never seen before. Addison glanced between them, frowning when Lola mouthed the words, That’s her.
The man stood, easily blocking her narrow path. Holding out a hand, he said, “I’m Gabriel. I’d like to talk to you about a potential employment opportunity if you have a minute.”
Addison glanced over her shoulder at Lola. The older woman grinned, nodding encouragingly at her startled expression.
“Ms. Walker?”
Turning, Addison threw on her best approximation of a smile. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, shaking his hand. “Sorry about that. I’d love to talk about this opportunity.” A little warning would’ve been nice, but she wasn’t exactly in a position to turn away potential job offers at this point.
“Why don’t you two head out back for a little privacy?” Lola suggested, her lips pursed into a half smile, one of her snowy white brows arched. “I’ll bring you back some refreshments.”
Addison frowned. This was starting to get weird. “Uh, sure. Right this way.”
As they settled into a pair of chairs at the back of the kitchen, Lola brought over two steaming mugs of tea and a couple of cocktail napkins. Addison’s brows shot up when she also put a plate on the break table, nearly overflowing with bite-sized samples of everything she baked that morning.
