Safe topic. Professional. Maybe it would help me stop thinking about the way her scent—warm vanilla and cinnamon—was winding its way under my skin.
“Right. The plan.” She tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear. “I think the booth should feel like a kitchen. Warm, lived-in. Not sterile.”
“Agreed.”
“And we should do live demos. I can handle them—people respond to real cooking, real mistakes, real problem-solving.”
Her hands moved as she spoke—graceful, expressive—and I found myself watching the curve of her wrist instead of the words.
Focus, McKnight.
“What kind of demos?” I asked.
“Holiday-specific. Feeding a crowd. Adapting for dietary needs. Maybe something about reducing food waste—like leftovers.” Her voice lifted, confidence taking hold. “And samples. People love samples.”
“You want to bake cookies at a tech expo.”
“I want to show that Stella isn’t just an app. She’s a friend in the kitchen.” She met my eyes, steady and sure. “That’swhat we’ve been missing. We’ve been selling features instead of feelings.”
Damn. She was right.
“How’d you get so good at this?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.
“At what?”
“Reading people. Knowing what they need before they do.”
A blush crept up her neck. “I don’t know. I just…talk to people who are trying to make their lives work. It was never about the food—it was about helping them feel capable.”
“Why’d you stop?”
Her smile faltered. “It stopped feeling real. I was performing this perfect life that didn’t exist. People don’t want to see someone eating ramen and dodging late-rent notices.”
“I would’ve watched that.”
Her eyes flicked to mine, searching for the joke. There wasn’t one.
“That’s the content people connect with,” I said. “The struggle. Not the highlight reel.”
She tilted her head. “Is that why North Star matters so much to you? Because it’s real?”
No one ever asked me that. Most people wanted projections, not purpose.
I looked out the window, city lights sliding by. “I built something once. Thought it would change things. Sold it to a company that gutted everything good. Made it about data, not people. I got rich and lost the part that mattered.”
“So North Star’s your second chance.”
“Something like that.”
She studied me quietly. “That’s why you care about Stella being helpful. Not just profitable.”
“Yeah.”
“I get that,” she said softly. “That’s why I said yes. You actually care.”
Her sincerity hit me somewhere I didn’t want to name. This was bad. She worked for me. She was twelve years younger. And I couldn’t afford to be distracted.
“We’re here,” the driver said.
