“Good morning, Marty! You want your usual order?” I greet her, offering a smile to one of my most loyal customers.
She nods eagerly. “Oh, yes, dear, that would be delightful. And throw in some of those new pastries you just started selling, too!”
I can’t help but smile. Ever since I made those batches of maritozzis, they’ve been a best-seller here at the café. They’re not quite as good as Mamma Sirolli’s, but people seem to love them just the same.
“You got it, Marty,” I say, quickly snapping the lip on her coffee and ringing her up.
“These are dangerous,” Marty says, eyeing the maritozzis. “If you keep baking like this, I’ll have to size up my church clothes.”
I laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
She winks. “It was meant to be, dear.”
As I finish her order, I notice someone new walking through the door. My interview is here.
“I’ll be right with you!” I call out to them, quickly finishing the transaction and waving Marty off.
The interview goes smoothly, and I end up hiring Baylee as my new general manager. She’s fresh out of college with a degree in business management, and she needs a hands-on experience before she opens her own business. She seems like a perfect fit, eager and motivated, and I’m already feeling relief knowing she’s here to help run things.
After we shake hands, Baylee pauses. This place…it feels like home. I hope I can do it justice.”
Her words strike something in me. The cafeishome. It’s where of poured all my love, late nights, and quiet triumphs.
“You will,” I tell her with a smile. “We’re building something special here. And now…I finally don’t have to do it alone.”
The lunch rush hits harder than usual today, and I’m thankfulI called in my extra employees. Paninis have become a huge hit, and we’ve been slammed ever since we added them to the menu. It’s a good problem to have, but it also means I’m on my feet longer every day.
The kitchen is filled with the sharp hiss of the panini press and the scent of roasted garlic and melted mozzarella. I wipe swear from my brow and hand off a bag to a waiting customer just as another order ticket prints. It’s relentless but familiar. I don’t mind the chaos when I’m this busy. It’s the quiet moments that get to me. That’s when my mind wander back to him.
Once the rush dies down, I tackle a few pastry orders before I can leave for the day. Just as I’m cleaning up the last remnants of the lunch shift, the door opens up again.
“Hey Mills, you almost done?” Kenna’s voice calls from across the room.
I look up to see her striding in with that knowing smirk of hers.
“Not even close,” I sigh. “I have these big orders to pack up before I leave. I should’ve done these yesterday, but I was too distracted.”
Kenna shakes her head, clicking her tongue.
“Well, I came by to see if you want me to add a few highlights to your hair to freshen it up. I have some extra time now before my next client,”
I keep packing, refusing to look at her. I really don’t want to get into this with her today.
“I don’t really care about my hair, Ken,” I mutter, finishing tying a bow around one of the pastry boxes.
Kenna crosses her arms, leaning against the counter with a mischievous grin.
“Aren’t you meeting Gabriel tonight?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you want to look like a sexy snack when you meet him?”
I stop in my tracks, the weight of her words hitting me harder than expected. “Yes. I’m meeting with Gabriel,” I say, forcing ashrug. “But I’m sure it isn’t going to be as exciting as you think it is.”
Kenna pushes off the counter, striding toward the door. “Be at the salon when you’re done. If you don’t show up within an hour, I will come looking for you.”
“Fine,” I groan, knowing it’s pointless to argue.
Later, in her chair, I stare at my reflection in the mirror as Kenna foils my hair. “You’re quiet,” she says without looking up.
“What do you want me to say, Ken?”
