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5 - ADDISON
Carbs. Sugar. Coffee. My body buzzed with caffeine and adrenaline because I’d burned enough calories to devour half a bakery case. I tapped my Jimmy Choos and furiously pressed the button for the crosswalk, waiting for the light to show the stick-figure guy who would legally let me run across the street and eat my feelings at Sweeter Things.
“Finally,” I mumbled, pushing ahead of the dude wearing neon yellow bike shorts that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. I mean, seriously? If you were going to wear those shorts when you weren’t riding a damn bike, at least have the twig and berries to back it up. I rolled my eyes and focused on the bakery, leaping over the curb and landing gracefully on the opposite sidewalk without breaking my stride.
There it was, my solace, complete with a chalkboard sign out front, advertising chocolate cauldron cakes, pumpkin lattes, and sherbet lemon scones. Olivia was getting her bakery ready for Halloween or had binged watched Harry Potter again, decked out in Ravenclaw blue. I pictured her and her husband, Edward, all cozy and adorable on their couch, in matching sweaters, taking turns seeing who could quote the most lines from the movie while eating salted caramel popcorn.
Yum.
I pulled the door open and stepped into the shop, listening to my heels click as I walked across the white and black checkered tiled floor. Cinnamon, strong coffee, and some sort of fruit—blueberries maybe—took over my senses as I got in line behind a guy in a suit and a mom with a toddler in a stroller pointing at the display case. I couldn’t blame her enthusiasm, watching her wave her chubby little fingers at the rows of cupcakes, scones, muffins, and turnovers.
The menu had been updated for fall, but living in the South, the change in the season meant zilch. We were lucky if the mornings and evenings got below seventy.
It drove some people crazy, but I loved the warmth. Give me short sleeves and bikinis over sweater weather any day. Hell, anything below sixty, and I dressed in thermals and drove around town, desperately searching for wood for my fireplace and stocking up on extra bread and milk.
“Hey lady,” Oliva said, stepping beside the cashier and giving me a warm smile. Her dark hair was neatly tucked under a hat with the store’s logo, and she had a streak of flour on her cheek.
“Carbs,” I said, rubbing my temple and giving her a strained smile.
“I know.” She nodded her head and reached forward to take my hand. “Order whatever you need and let me check on the turnovers. I’ll be out in five.”
“You’re the best. You know that, right?”
“Duh,” she said with a wink, turning to the kitchen and walking through the swinging doors. I smiled at the cashier, glancing between the display and menu board.
“I’ll take a cinnamon bun, two strawberry cream puffs, a coffee ganache tart, and a triple lavender latte, please.”
The cashier didn’t blink as she rang me up, not mentioning how I ordered enough to go into a diabetic coma. I usually wasn’t one for carbo-loading like I’d never eaten sweets, but I’d never been called on the carpet like this, and it meant bringing in the big guns. Or in this case, an entire pastry shelf.
I handed her my debit card and put a ten in the tip jar before entering my pin. Several round tables were taken on the left, so I walked to the end of the counter and peeked down one side, seeing all the booths were packed. Turning around, I saw a table free in the front corner against the window. I high-tailed it over, smiling at the toddler, whose face was smeared with chocolate cream. She had the right idea.
My foot tapped on the tile while people passed the storefront outside. There went a businessman more focused on his phone than waiting for the crosswalk and a woman in a power suit carrying a briefcase and wearing white tennis shoes.
“Hey, you. Why don’t you start at the beginning,” Olivia said, setting my assortment of goodies on the table and an extra plate, fresh fruit, water, and juice.
She took the tray behind the register and brought a coffee and bagel for herself, sitting cross-legged and waiting. I blew on the top of the latte, bringing it to my lips and taking a sip with a satisfying moan. Holy shit. There was nothing better than her coffee. Yes, there was—her pastries. I eyed the delicious treats and breathed, trying to compartmentalize my feelings and appetite.
“First off, how are you feeling?” I asked, waving my hand in front of her rapidly growing and adorable baby bump.
“Ugh, swollen. You’d think I’d be sick of sweets by now, but nope. I’ll officially be the size of a four-tier wedding cake that can feed five hundred people by the time I get to my third trimester.”
“Well, you are glowing.”
“Thank you. Now quit stalling.”
“My parents may sell the firm.”
“Okay. Not what I expected you to say, but it still sucks. I can’t believe they didn’t offer to let you buy them out.” She leaned forward and took my hand, squeezing it before pushing the coffee ganache closer.
I pulled it the rest of the way forward, along with the extra plate and a fork, massacring her beautiful creation.
“I’ll never get used to seeing you destroy my desserts like that,” she said, pursing her lips and smearing more cream cheese on her bagel.
I giggled, taking a bite of the delicious crust before dropping the bombshell. “They don’t think I’m capable of leading. Next month, they’re going to the conference to look at potential buyers.”
“The fuck?” she hissed, leaning into the middle of the table. I couldn’t do anything but stare at the pastries and shrug. “I thought you said they planned to turn the reins over to you. You were going to take over everything. Revamp the—”
“I know.” I smacked my hand on the table, then clenched my fist, holding back the tears that threatened to spill down my face. “I’m a drunken joke, Liv. That’s what they think I am. Maybe they’re right.” My throat burned with the effort of swallowing down the bubble of emotion.
