A small smile tugs at his mouth. "I've a lot of time to think while I pipe rosettes."
I laugh, and something about the sound makes his smile widen.
Before either of us can say anything else, Evan appears with Maddie in tow and a cookie in hand.
"Dylan, I'm heading out. You good to lock up?"
"Yeah, we're good. Thanks, Evan."
Evan gives me a knowing look as he grabs his jacket. "Nice meeting you, Piper. I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot more of you."
The emphasis on a lot more is not subtle at all.
After he leaves, the bakery feels quieter and more intimate. There’s just me, Dylan, and Maddie, who's now sitting at her little table drawing what appears to be a very elaborate castle.
"I should probably get going too," I say, even though part of me wants to stay.
"Where are you staying?" Dylan asks.
"I rented a little house on the south side of town. Nothing fancy, but it has good light."
He nods. "That's a nice area. Quiet."
"Unlike this place," I tease.
"Unlike this place," he agrees.
I pack up my camera gear, and Dylan walks me to the door. His hand reaches for the lock, then pauses.
"Piper," he says, not quite meeting my eyes, "would you want to come back tomorrow? I'm starting the base layers for the festival cake. It might make good content."
My heart does a little skip. "I'd love that."
"Good." He finally looks at me, and the warmth in his expression makes my breath catch. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."
"See you tomorrow, Dylan."
I step out into the evening air, and the door closes softly behind me. The street is quiet now, and most of the shops are closed for the day. The festival banners flutter in the breeze, and somewhere in the distance, I can hear music from one of the bars on the edge of town.
I should feel like a stranger here, just a visitor passing through, but as I walk back to my rental car, I realize something unsettling. For the first time in years, I don't feel like I'm just passing through.
I feel like I might be arriving.
Chapter 3
Dylan
The moment Pipersteps fully into the kitchen the next morning, the air shifts. I swear the temperature rises a few degrees, which is ridiculous because the ovens are off and I've been elbow-deep in frosting for two hours without breaking a sweat. Now, all of a sudden, I'm sweating like someone turned on the broiler.
She studies the counter space with a thoughtful tilt of her head, then pulls her phone out and taps something into a note app. Her hair slips over her shoulder as she leans forward to examine a tray of cooled cupcakes, and for a second, I forget every rule I planned to set.
I remind myself to breathe. I've boundaries for a reason; my life functions because it's structured, predictable, and safe.
I clear my throat. "Morning, are you ready to see the festival cake process?"
She looks up with a smile that goes straight to the center of my chest. "Absolutely, this is what I'm here for."
I gesture toward the workspace where I've laid out my tools and sketches. "I start with the structure. The phoenix design consists of three tiers, each one representing a different stage inthe theme of renewal. The bottom is the ash and loss. The middle is the struggle and transformation. The top is the renewal."
