“You’d have full creative input,” she says brightly. “Especially brunch and desserts. Your orange cardamom brioche? I still have dreams about it. Literal, edible dreams.”
I smile. “That’s incredibly flattering.”
“And incredibly true. Look,” she says, turning serious now, “I know what small towns are like. They convince you to settle. To shrink yourself for comfort. But not you, Josie Dawson. You belong somewhere you can expand.”
She’s right, probably. Silver Peak was never part of the plan. Neither was falling for someone like Knox Knightly.
And yet, here I am.
Standing in the kitchen I once would’ve sold my soul for. Feeling nothing but a hollow ache in the center of my chest.
I try to imagine waking up in Denver every morning. Building a new life here. One where I’m not the pregnant girl in a mountain town but a rising star in a Michelin-level kitchen. Adela by my side. The city stretching out in every direction.
It’s everything I should want.
But my heart keeps drifting back. To fresh coffee at sunrise and sticky buns still warm from the oven. To a man who kissed me like I was air and then looked at me like I was a stranger.
Adela leans against a counter and tilts her head, watching me with piercing eyes.
“So,” she says. “Can you see yourself here?”
I open my mouth. Close it. Then whisper, “I don’t know.”
She doesn’t press. She nods slowly, eyes warm.
“Dreams change,” she says. “Doesn’t mean you’re giving up. Just means you’re growing. But don’t run toward something just because it looks good on paper. Run toward what makes you feel something.”
Her words echo as we walk back toward the front. She squeezes my hand before she lets go.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she says. “You take your time, darling.”
I nod, thanking her. But as I step out into the cool Denver air, my chest tightens.
Because I already know where I feel the most.
And it’s not here.
I’m halfway back to my hotel when my phone buzzes. I expect it to be Adela, or maybe Mom, asking how it went. But it’s three texts from Gracie.
>> FYI… your boy is spiraling.
>> Savannah showed up again. Stirring up more drama than a Real Housewives finale.
>> Urgh, Silver Peak is DRAMA atm. Hope things are better in Denver. Can’t wait to hear from you
I stop dead on the sidewalk.
Knox. Spiraling.
The words hit harder than I expect. Maybe because I can picture it so easily, his jaw clenched, voice short, temper barely leashed. That storm behind his eyes when things get messy. When he gets scared.
And Savannah?
That name alone makes something inside me twist. I don’t need details. I already know what kind of chaos she brings with her.
I saw the way she moved through The Marrow like it was a stage. I saw the look on Knox’s face when she said his name. Tight, like he was gritting his teeth just to stay civil. He hates it when she’s around. His expression says it all.
But still. She’s there.
