She finally stops, breathless, then fixes me with a pointed look. “And if I get more business, that means I can pay my rent on time. Which benefits you, too, oh wise and mighty landlord.”
I huff a quiet laugh through my nose, shaking my head. “So this is about my money, then.”
“No, it’s about my money.” She crosses her arms, tapping her fingers against her sleeve. “Which, coincidentally, happens to be your money most of the time, too.”
I stare at her for a long moment. Against my better judgment, I ask, “What do you want, Reyes?”
She brightens immediately, like she’s been waiting for me to ask. “Funny you should say that, Thorne?—”
I close my eyes briefly. Regret. So much regret.
“I need a dessert display,” she continues, pacing now. “Not just any display, but something that fits the theme.”
I exhale slowly, rubbing my temple. “Let me guess. Something ridiculous.”
She points at me. “Whimsical.”
“Which means ridiculous.”
“Which means visionary.”
I grunt. “What’s the theme?”
She stops pacing, turns to face me fully, then says, “Wanderlust.”
The word hits me strangely. Like a weight I wasn’t expecting.
Wanderlust. The desire to travel. To move. To never stay still long enough for the roots to take hold.
I know it too well.
She must see something shift in my expression, because her voice softens slightly as she explains.
“I want to create something that feels like movement. Like adventure.” Her hands move as she speaks, like she’s already shaping it in the air. “Something that makes people feel like they’re going somewhere, even if they’re standing still.”
I feel a tug in my chest that I don’t like.
Because I know exactly what she means.
A home that isn’t a place, but a feeling.
Something that carries the best parts of itself wherever it goes.
It’s too familiar.
Too close to what I’ve spent my whole life trying not to think about.
The restlessness that drives Minotaurs from their herds. The need to find our own territories, stake our own claims. How we circle and pace and never quite settle.
Until we do.
And then we never leave again.
For a second, I almost say yes right then.
But before I can, she slides the bakery box closer.
Her smile is pure trouble.
