Page 123 of A Taste of Vanilla

“Agatha is injured.”

“Your order system makes Dev cry.”

“Only on the inside!” Dev calls from out front.

Marley points to my register. “Your production notes are written on six different surfaces.”

I lift my chin. “Creative people have creative ways to use surfaces.”

“You wrote ‘more butter?’ on a napkin and taped it to the mixer.”

“It was a valid question I had to answer.”

“I was just in your office and found a new latte recipe next to three invoices on top of a sketch of a dragon holding a cupcake.”

“It has branding potential.”

Her face softens. “I’m not saying you can’t do this yourself. You’re doing it. And you’ve done it well for a long time. You built this place. It’s yours. No one is taking that from you.”

My chest squeezes.

“But helping doesn’t mean taking.”

I look away, fighting the urge to argue that the Kings must have the exact same brain considering I heard the same thing from him.

Oliver clears his throat.

I glare. “What?”

“I agree with Marley.”

“Of course you do. Today is betrayal day.”

Oliver shrugs. “Every day is betrayal day when you have friends with opinions.”

“I hate opinions.”

“You have fourteen before breakfast,” Marley states.

“Mine are charming.”

“They are loud,” Oliver groans.

Warren says, “Her flavors are excellent.”

Everyone goes quiet.

“What?” I ask.

He looks down at his notebook, then back up. “Your flavors are excellent.”

Not cute or promising. Not charming in the way Barrett Whitaker used charm like a pat on the head before sliding the knife between my ribs.

Excellent. Like it’s a measurable fact.

I swallow. “Oh.”

From the corner of my eye, I watch Oliver look at the ceiling as if pretending not to notice me absorb praise like a neglected houseplant.