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Two additional security guards stand near the entry while Maisie runs the room from behind the counter like a five-star general. The few guests already inside are invitees: longtime paid supporters, local collaborators, one bakery owner I’ve worked with for years, a pastry chef with strong opinions about cupcakes which conflict with mine, and two rescue volunteers Maisie considers family.

Everyone was warned about noise, so the applause when Jubilee sits is soft and respectful. Surprise crosses her face. “What are you doing?”

I set a purple bakery box in front of her, wrapped with a big gold ribbon. Her eyes widen. I keep filming. “Open it.”

She doesn’t hesitate. Not even a little. Jubilee grabs the bow and tears it apart like a crazy raccoon.

I physically recoil. “Jesus Christ.”

She freezes mid-shred. “What?”

“You have no respect for my meticulous presentation.”

She coughs into one fist. “Control freak.”

Laughter bursts from the nearest table. Outside, several girls laugh as the livestream catches everything.

She called him a control freak LMAOOO!

I love her already.

Keep her.

Aww, the way he looks at her.

Jubilee attacks the remaining tissue paper. Inside are sixteen cupcakes, Cherries Jubilee–inspired, topped with white-chocolate medallions. One letter per medallion. She pushes the lid fully open. Her hands fly together beneath her chin. The room goes quiet.

HER NAME IS JUBILEE.

Her fingertips rise to her lips. When she faces me, the brightness in her eyes hits behind my ribs with enough force to make breathing optional.

“That’s me.”

My heart gives one hard, stupid thud. “Yeah, Princess.”

She launches out of the chair. I barely get the phone angled away before she hits me. Her arms wrap around my neck, mine close around her waist, and I lift her until her boots leave the floor.

The sidewalk erupts. Even muffled through glass, the screaming is impressive. Inside, the guests applaud softly, several holding phones to their chests. Behind the counter, Maisie folds her arms. I know my sister well enough to see approval.

Jubilee pulls back, and I barely have time to think before she kisses me. Warm lips. Soft laugh. Vanilla and coffee. The livestream goes feral.

I kiss her once more and set her down before Maisie throws a spoon at my head.

Jubilee turns toward the cupcakes. “Oh, my God. They smell amazing.”

“They should. I was up at six.”

Her head whips around. “You made these this morning?”

“Some of us respect daylight.”

“Some of us are deeply unwell.” She reaches into the box.

I recognize the expression on her face half a second too late. “Jules⁠—”

She scoops out a cupcake, takes a deliberately obscene bite through the frosting, then grabs the front of my shirt and plants her icing-covered mouth directly on mine. One second is all it takes. She pulls away laughing, frosting smeared across her upper lip.

The café breaks. Even Maisie’s nose flares with humor behind the register. Outside, half the line appears to fold in on itself. My phone vibrates so hard with reactions, it feels alive.