I realize, dimly, that I may have just gotten myself into serious trouble with Tess again. But I couldn’t stand seeing this kid this devastated on her birthday.
There has to be something we can do.
Chapter 10
Tess
I am trapped.
I look at the kid, Maya, who is now babbling a mile a minute with Leo about mana cores and shadow magic. She is animated in a way that makes my chest ache, because ten minutes ago, she was crying like someone had kicked her in the ribs. Now her eyes are bright, her hands flying as she talks, and she is looking at him like he just handed her oxygen.
I look at Leo.
My useless, expensive, destructive employee.
And in thirty seconds, he does what I never do. He forms a real, immediate, human connection with a customer. Not a transaction. Not a polite smile. Not the practiced script I use to keep people from seeing the panic behind my eyes.
A connection.
Of course, he does it by being a giant, dusty nerd about some fantasy series I have never heard of in my life.
Of course.
I let out a long sigh. Gwen says she can hear it from the back sometimes and knows exactly what kind of day it is going to be.
“I can’t,” I say, because I have to start somewhere, and the truth is usually the sharpest place, “make that.”
I point to the fondant monster on Maya’s phone. Three tiers. Black. Crystalline. A sculpture pretending to be food.
“It’s 3:15,” I say. “I’m a baker, not a wizard.”
Maya’s face starts to fall. Her mouth opens just slightly, the first crack in the revived hope.
And something in me, the part that is exhausted and stubborn and stupidly full of pride, shifts gears.
“But,” I continue, my voice sharpening as I click into wartime mode, “I have three eight-inch chocolate rounds from a canceled order this morning. They’re already baked. I have a lot of dark chocolate. And I have buttercream.”
I spin, and my eyes land on Leo.
The look I give him is the kind of look that used to make men twice his size take a step back when I ran kitchens. It says you are on the edge of a cliff, and I will not catch you if you jump.
“You.”
“Yes, boss,” he says immediately, snapping to attention and accidentally raising his broom like a rifle.
I ignore the urge to laugh.
“It’s your time to shine,” I tell him. “You’re the art department.” I take a slow, controlled breath, trying not to think about how much stress this adds to my day. “We cannot mess this up. Do you understand?”
“Clear,” he says, his voice grim.
I turn to Maya.
“You,” I say. “You’re the consultant. You’re quality control. You tell us if the scepter is right.” Then I lift my voice like a siren. “Gwen!”
Gwen bursts out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “Boss?”
“Emergency buttercream,” I bark. “Dark chocolate. I want it black. As dark as you can get it without it tasting like ash. Everyone. Go. Now. Move.”
