humidity, and for my face, a simple gloss and light coat of mascara. Smiling, I nod at my reflection. I’m pleased.
Borrowing my mother’s SUV, I load the dessert into the front seat, along with my portfolio, and set the directions in the GPS. Twenty minutes. Perfect timing.
Right before I set off, my phone buzzes with a text from Apollo.
Apollo: Good luck! You're gonna slay them.
* * *
Smiling, I reply.
Me: Thank you!
* * *
Apollo: I’m across the street at Black Heart Tattoo if you want to stop in after. Would love to see you again.
* * *
Me: I will.
I start my drive, trying to focus on remembering the US driving rules, playing a pop music station and listening to the latest hits. A few I’ve heard in France, but most of it is completely new to me. Before long, I’ve arrived at Dulce Santo. I smile as I pull into the back parking lot. This neighborhood is adorable. The streets are lined with shops and restaurants in Miami’s signature pastel colors. I can tell much of it is new.
After getting my things, I walk to the front, noticing Black Heart Tattoo truly is across the street. Not directly enough that I could actually see Apollo if I were working here, which is thankful because I’d never get a thing done.
My directions said to press the bell on the locked door, so I do that. A young man with wild curls and a stunning face walks to the door, opening it to greet me.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“I do. I’m here to see Briar.”
“Oh.” He smiles, allowing me to enter. “You must be Felix?”
“I am.”
“Genesis. Nice to meet you.”
“You as well.”
“Cool accent.”
I nod. “Cool name.”
He laughs. “Thanks. Have a seat? I’ll go let Briar know you're here.”
“Thank you.”
I settle in a chair, gazing through the large picture window. That must be the main bakery. It’s packed with people, while this side has no one in it but me.
“Felix.”
I twist to see another man coming toward me. He’s as young as the other man, I imagine, and he’s so handsome with his smart glasses, sweet face, and preppy clothes. I stand, extending my hand. “Yes, hi. Briar?”
“Yes. Nice to meet you.”
“You as well.”
He sits at the table, motioning for me to do the same.
“Did you find us okay?”
“Oh, yes, it was easy. I’m living at my parents’ house until I get settled in, so maybe it’s twenty minutes.”
“Oh, cool. Know where you plan to live yet?”
“No. Apollo said he would take me around to see places.”
“Ah, good. I guess I’ll get right to it. Why is someone with your background interested in working here?”
“Oh, yes, euh. I went to Paris ten years ago with big dreams. I thought I would have my own chocolatier and do weddings and events for celebrities.”
Briar nods, smiling.
“I did lots of weddings and events for celebrities, but under the command of far more renowned chefs than me. It is a difficult world. Everyone has the same dream I had. It is like moving to Hollywood to be an actor, no? Even with my skills, it was impossible to break out, and the sacrifice required was not palatable to me.”
“I see.”
“I got caught up in it. I worked hard and I was noticed. I was in demand and ended up in places I had only dreamt of before.” I smile. “But it wore on my psyche. I was tired. Weary. Unable to push more than I had already. I am close to my thirtieth birthday. I think one goes through some self-reflection, no?”
“Sure.”
“I realized I wanted to be home. Here. I wanted to see my family. I wanted to build the rest of my life here. So, I came home. But for all my challenges in France, I love to bake as much as ever. It is in my blood. It pumps my heart. It is my actual soul. I would not be me if I were not baking.”
Briar nods, studying my face. “So, you aren’t just taking this to get some money coming in while you look for more?”
“Oh no, absolutely not. I…how do I say?” I nibble my lip for a second. “My finances are stable. I want to work in a place where I can use my talents, specifically my chocolate and sugar skills. I want to be close to home, in an environment where I can be myself, and also have some balance to enjoy the rest of my life, no?”
“Your accent is so cool,