Page 280 of A Taste of Vanilla

“All syrups are a go.”

I glance toward the front. Marley is out front saying, “Limit two per person means limit two per person, Brian. This is a bakery, not a black-market coconut coffee ring.”

My stomach flips.

Because tonight isn’t just a relaunch.

It’s a public reckoning.

The second we open, Marley is posting the attorney-approved statement. It’s not an attack or a rant. Not the screaming version my heart wrote down in my notes app and deleted five times.

A clean, dated, supported statement.

It only says what’s true. That Barrett Whitaker reviewed Bitter Bloom both before and after my relationship with his son ended. That his negative review did not disclose a personal family connection to my former fiancé. That documents provided to me show Grant Whitaker communicating with his father about Bitter Bloom’s branding and my emotional state, and using language that later appeared in or closely aligned with the review’s framing.

That I have asked for transparency and a correction. That I will not discuss private relationship details beyond what is relevant to my business and public reputation.

Then Marley’s timeline.

Old review. Engagement. Breakup. Negative review. Messages. Pressure on vendors. My response. And today.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I check it.

ELISE

I’m here. Outside. I can leave if it’s better.

I stare at it.

“Elise is here,” I say, looking up. Oliver’s jaw tightens.

Warren goes still. “What do you want?”

Sighing, I glance back. “I want her to come in,” I say slowly. “Quietly. Not as a guest of honor or anything. Just… here.”

Marley watches me. “Are you sure?”

“No. But yes.”

“I’ll go get her,” Oliver says, leaving through the back.

Elise looks polished as always, her face pale.

Her gaze finds mine. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

The bakery is quiet.

“I won’t stay long. I know you’re opening in seconds.”

I nod.

“I emailed Denise like you asked. Sent her everything.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“I also wanted to say…” She looks around. “This is beautiful.”