Chapter 12 Piper
ONE YEAR LATER
The last customer left a little before closing, and I locked the door behind her with a satisfaction that hadn't worn off yet.
Rise & Shine had only been open five days, and we’d sold out every day.
I flipped the sign to CLOSED and leaned against the door, taking in the space that was mine.
Small—barely eight hundred square feet—but perfect.
Exposed brick walls, industrial shelving, a vintage cash register I'd found at an estate sale.
The display case was empty now, just a few crumbs where chocolate croissants and lemon bars and cinnamon rolls had been this morning.
All gone. Every last pastry.
I'd started baking at four AM and hadn't stopped until two, when I'd run out of flour. Tomorrow I'd have to order more supplies and adjust my numbers. Maybe hire help if this kept up.
The thought made me smile.
A year ago, I'd been sitting in a classroom wondering if quitting teaching would be a mistake. Wondering if a bakery was just a pipe dream, if I was throwing away a stable career for something that might fail.
It hadn’t been easy. I’d spent that year saving every penny, baking out of Maya’s kitchen, selling at farmers’ markets and pop-ups until I could afford this place. But, God, it had been worth. I was finally here, in my own space, doing what I loved. And making enough money to actually pay rent.
I grabbed the broom and started sweeping, humming something I'd heard on the radio that morning.
The door rattled, and I looked up to see Maya's face pressed against the glass, grinning like a maniac.
I unlocked it and she burst in, holding a bottle of wine.
"Did you sell out again?" she demanded.
"Every last croissant."
"I fucking knew it!" She set the wine on the counter. "This place is going to be huge. I'm calling it now. You're going to have to expand. Hire a whole team. Franchise this shit."
"Let's maybe get through week one first."
"Boring. I'm already planning your empire." She opened the bottle with a corkscrew she'd pulled from her purse. "You have cups?"
"In the back."
She disappeared into the tiny kitchen and came back with two coffee mugs. Poured wine into both, handed me one.
"To Rise & Shine," she said, lifting her mug. "And to my brilliant sister who actually did the thing."
We clinked mugs and drank. The wine was cheap and too sweet, exactly Maya's style.
"Okay, but real talk." She hopped up onto the counter, ignoring my look. "When was the last time you did something that wasn't bakery-related?"
"I went to the grocery store yesterday."
"To buy flour and butter. Doesn't count."
I went back to sweeping. "I've been busy. Opening a business is—"
"An excuse to avoid having a life outside of work, yeah, I know." She took another sip. "You've been single for a year."
"And?"
"And you're hot and successful and you own your own business. You should be fighting men off with a rolling pin."
"I'm not interested in dating right now."
"That's what you said six months ago."
"And it's still true." I dumped the dustpan into the trash. "I'm happy, Maya. The bakery is doing well. I have my own place. I'm not sitting around pining for—" I stopped myself.
We didn't say his name anymore. Hadn't in months.
Maya's expression softened. "I know you're happy. I can see it. You're literally glowing, it's disgusting." She swirled her wine. "But you're allowed to have both, you know. The bakery and a personal life."
"I have a personal life. I have you."
"I'm your sister, I don't count. I'm legally obligated to hang out with you." She set down her cup. "Look. I'm not saying you need to get married or fall in love or whatever. I'm just saying... maybe it's time to dip a toe back in the pool."
"Maya—"
"Hear me out." She held up a hand. "You remember Josh?"
"Your ex? The one who laughed like a dying seal?"
"That's the one. His best friend is single. And before you make that face, no, he's nothing like Josh. Daniel's great. Smart, funny, has a real job. He's an EMT."
I stopped wiping down the counter. "An EMT?"
"Yeah. Works with Station 47 sometimes on calls." She watched my face carefully. "I know that's complicated, but he's solid. Good guy. I've known him for years."
Station 47. Where Liam used to work. Where the whole thing had started and ended.
I looked down at the counter, at my reflection in the stainless steel. A year ago, I'd been a mess. Living in Maya's guest room, stress-baking at two in the morning, wearing the same yoga pants for three days straight because I couldn't bring myself to care.
Now I had my own apartment above the bakery.
I'd lost the weight I'd stress-eaten on during the breakup, plus a few more pounds from being on my feet twelve hours a day. My hair was longer, healthier, and I’d finally stopped cutting it myself in Maya's bathroom.
I had actual clothes now, not just teacher cardigans and jeans.
A wardrobe that fit the person I'd become.
I was doing well. Really well.
But dating? That felt like a different category of moving on.
"I don't know," I said.
"You don't have to know. Just meet him. Coffee, right? Thirty minutes. If he's boring or weird or you're not feeling it, you never have to see him again." She pulled out her phone. "I already told him about you, anyway.”
"Maya!"
"What? You're amazing and he should know that." She was typing. "I'm setting something up for this weekend. Saturday afternoon. The coffee place next door."
"I have to work Saturday."
"You close at three on Saturday. So, there you go. Coffee at four. Done." She hit send before I could stop her. "You're welcome."
I stared at her. "I hate you."
"You love me. And you're going to thank me after you meet him." She finished her wine and hopped off the counter. "Now let's lock up and get actual food. I'm starving and you probably forgot to eat again."
She wasn't wrong.