It’ll make you feel better.” Sammy cut the engine, and Olivia realized they were at his bakery instead of his house.
“How did you know I was thinking about spreadsheets?”
“You’re always thinking about spreadsheets.”
Valid point.
“C’mon.” Sammy got out of the car. “Cupcake’s on me.”
Olivia’s stomach twisted. She didn’t want to go in there, but she had no good excuse for staying in the car and turning down her favorite dessert, so she reluctantly followed him into the bright, airy shop.
The smell of freshly baked pastries and sweets slammed into her nostrils the minute she stepped inside. Crumble & Bake was one of San Francisco’s most-visited food spots and a tourist destination unto itself. A chalkboard menu of the different items on offer took up the whole wall behind the registers, and the store comprised three sections: one for classic Chinese bakery items like Hong Kong-style egg tarts and pineapple buns, one for Western baked goods like croissants and muffins, and one for desserts. Crumble & Bake’s famous cupcakes lined an entire counter, with each flavor displayed in its own glass jar.
Customers packed the shop this Saturday afternoon, and more than a few customers stared and whispered when they saw Sammy. He wasn’t movie-star famous, but he’d been featured in the media enough times and had a large enough social media following that he inevitably got recognized in public—especially in his own shop.
A few curious glances fell on Olivia as well, which she ignored.
She trailed Sammy behind the counter and into the kitchen, where she garnered more curious glances while he conversed with a large blond man in a white, double-breasted chef’s jacket. He introduced himself as Liam, Sammy’s pastry sous chef.
Olivia smiled politely and tried to melt into the walls so she wasn’t in anyone’s way.
After ten or so minutes, Sammy seemed to remember he hadn’t arrived alone. “Sorry, this is going to take a while. There are a few things I need to handle before we leave,” he told Olivia with a hint of apology. “Feel free to explore, taste test, etc. My office—the one with the green door—is quiet, or there’s a window seat by the cupcake counter if you want to see the action.”
“Sure, no problem. I’ll figure it out.” There were worse things than being “trapped” in a bakery.
“Try the lemon-and-raspberry cupcake!” Liam yelled before the kitchen doors swung shut behind her. “It’s our signature!”
Olivia took his advice and paid for the cupcake—she could’ve had it on the house, but she already owed Sammy too much—before parking herself in the window seat behind the cupcake counter. One bite told her all she needed to know: it was the best freakin’ cupcake in the world. Wow. No wonder it was Crumble & Bake’s signature item. Her tastebuds were in heaven.
She munched on the lemon-and-raspberry confection while Googling hotels near her office—ideally within walking distance. If she had to spend a king’s ransom on accommodations for the next few weeks, she wanted to cut down on transportation costs.
But no matter how hard she tried, Olivia couldn’t focus. She kept looking around, unable to take her eyes off the bustling bakery. A framed copy of Sammy’s first magazine cover—taken two years after his business opened its doors—hung on a nearby wall. His smile seemed to mock her, saying, You thought I couldn’t do it. Well, here I am, doing it.
Her stomach churned with guilt. She wished she’d been more supportive when he first came to her with his plans. She wished she hadn’t let her mother’s words and insecurities get to her. But the truth was, no matter how strong she stood in all other areas of her life, she’d never been strong enough to face off against Eleanor Tang—and win.
Speaking of the devil...
Her phone lit up with an incoming call. She was tempted to ignore it, but that would only delay the inevitable.
Olivia picked up the call and turned her head away from the crowd, like that would somehow diminish the background noise. “Hello, Mother.”
“Olivia, where are you?” Eleanor’s cool, crisp voice flowed over the line like ice water. “It’s loud.”
“I’m shopping,” Olivia lied. “For more work clothes.”
“Why? Did you gain weight?”
She rolled her eyes and prayed for patience. “No. I simply needed a wardrobe refresher.”
“Fine,” Eleanor said. “Make sure not to buy anything pastel. It washes out your complexion.”
Olivia couldn’t resist countering with, “Alina’s bridesmaid dresses are pastel.”
She could practically see her mother waving a dismissive hand in the air. “Yes, well, peach flatters most of the bridesmaids’