And for the first time in a long time, I’m not sure if I want to stop it.
Chapter 3
Marigold
By the time we close up shop, my feet feel like over baked biscotti, and my hair smells like sugar, spice, and mild exhaustion.
Emery’s already gone, leaving me to sweep glittery crumbs and wipe down counters before flipping the sign to Closed.
The neon bee logo in the window hums softly, casting gold light across the floor.
When the last lock clicks into place, I trudge upstairs to my little apartment above The Cookie Hive.
It’s small, warm, and smells like vanilla extract and dreams.
Every time I climb those creaky steps, I tell myself I’ll take a proper vacation someday.
Tonight?
I just want a hot shower and maybe a cup of cocoa that doesn’t have buttercream residue in it.
But as soon as I kick off my shoes and sink onto the couch, I can’t stop thinking about him—the white-suited cookie Santa with eyes like bottled lightning and a smile that felt suspiciously like destiny.
“Uncle Uzzi Stregovich,” I mutter to the empty room. “What kind of name is that? And who orders a thousand boxes of cookies on a Tuesday?”
My fingers start to tingle.
Oh no.
Not again.
I press my palms to my knees, willing the feeling to fade—but the familiar hum builds in my veins anyway, a sweet-sharp buzz that I’ve known since childhood.
The vision slides in, soft at first, then bright and clear.
Uzzi floats—yes, floats—in front of a massive standing desk covered in glowing parchment and flickering runes.
He’s waving his hands like a maestro conducting an invisible orchestra, sending shimmers of light through the ether.
Messages.
Hundreds of them.
Zipping off to people I can’t see, whispering words I can’t quite hear.
But one thing comes into focus.
A symbol.
A heart with wings, blinking in rhythmic pulses across the screen.
Date to Mate.
When the vision fades, I’m left breathless and a little dizzy.
I rub my tingling fingers together and glance at my phone sitting on the coffee table.
Curiosity wins.
