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Chapter 280: Sugar And Crumbs
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Chapter 282: Selective Focus
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... the soft thrum of café chatter bleeding in from the front room. The scent of warm vanilla and fresh espresso clung to my hair, my skin, even my sleeves. Mateo sang terribly to the radio while one of our colleagues—peace— muttered about ruined classics, and I caught myself smiling so much my cheeks ached.
By afternoon, the bakery had settled into its usual lull. I stood by the front window, piping clouds of cream onto a row of lemon cupcakes, sunlight spilling across the count ...
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