Chapter 2 #2
It’s not like I’ve ever had time to party.
Unlike my brothers, my parents kept me on a loose leash most of my life, but that didn’t make me want to run away.
The freedom made me dig my heels in and work harder.
My parents couldn’t help me build the future I wanted, so I always knew I would build it myself.
I started college after most of my peers. When you’re a twenty-five-year-old freshman going to school with a bunch of eighteen-year-olds, going out with them feels weird. So, I stayed in, focused on my craft all day, slept all night, and woke up at four in the morning to make the bread.
It may not be a typical path, but I have no regrets.
Baking in Everett’s kitchen isn’t all bad. He has plenty of space, and my beloved stand mixer is the one thing I brought with me. I had it shipped out a few days before I arrived.
This isn’t any old stand mixer, though. It’s a symbol, and a reminder I won’t be stuck here forever. I can go back to school, save up for my future, and keep baking.
“This is how I have fun.” I stand upright and admire the perfect white frosting.
“I can see that—and it looks great, even if making it doesn’t look like much fun.”
“It’s not even done yet.” I swat at Everett, pushing him away. “Get out of my kitchen.”
“Your kitchen?”
“When I’m cooking in it, it’s my kitchen. Don’t you have something else to do? Your guests will be here soon.”
“Nope. No one is gonna come on time.”
“That’s awfully rude of them.” I grab a frosting bag and line the cake with pink icing. “Are you sure I want to meet your friends? They kind of sound like—”
“Be nice. It doesn’t matter. You’re here, so you’re meeting them.”
“Fine…” I trail off, my mind going blank as I trace the icing over the edge of the cake.
“You really are good at this, you know.” He gestures to my masterpiece. “Any bakery in San Diego would be happy to have you.”
Everett is dropping hints, and he isn’t subtle. Of course, he wants me to drop out and live with him. He completely wasted his degree. Why don’t I waste my education as well?
I glare, silencing him. “Maybe for the summer. Sure.”
“Or you could find something more permanent.”
“I have to finish school before I can even think about moving.”
“There’s no rule about it. It’s not like being a baker requires a degree. You’re not a doctor, Evie.”
“I still have a lot to learn.” I exhale, blowing a few strands of hair out of my face. “This is important to me. Just call me Cake Doctor, because that’s how long I’m spending in school.”
Paying out of pocket means saving up for each course. I’ve watched plenty of people zoom on ahead of me, finishing their degrees before I can blink. Eventually, I’ll catch up to them.
“That would be a good name for your bakery,” he says.
“What? Cake Doctor?” I giggle. “It would—if I ever get to open one.”
That’s always been my dream. I adore baking, but working for others is something I quickly realized brings me no joy.
I need creative control, a shop that perfectly fits my vibe, and no micromanaging bosses.
This moment, right here, when I can create something without anyone’s input or rush…
this is it. This is precisely what I want.
There will always be a sense of rushing when baking for someone else, even if I’m working at my bakery, but it will be nothing compared to how it was at my past jobs.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!
The sound jolts me from my thoughts.
DING-DONG!
Whoever it is, they’re impatient.
I lift a brow and cock my head. “I told you they were on the way. Maybe your friends aren’t as rude as you think.”
“No.” He sighs, ambling to the front door. “That’s just Theo. He always comes first—makes it easier for him to leave early.”
“Being on time isn’t early!”
Everett groans. “That’s exactly what he says.”
By my estimation, this guest—Theo—is right on time. Four o’clock on the dot.
The door opens, and I hear the sound of footsteps and a friendly greeting. Rather than listening in, I focus on frosting the cake.
“There she is!” Everett’s voice booms through the kitchen, loud and proud. “Theo, this is my sister, Evelyn.”
I look up from the cake, and warmth spreads through my body, not from the preheating oven or the San Diego sun. The hot flush only deepens when I lock eyes with the stranger, meeting irises as dark as night. Theo, probably.
He’s a man about Everett’s age with short, curly hair in the loveliest shade of brown—with just a bit of warmth where the sun kisses it. His eyes crinkle when he smiles. I force myself to hold his gaze, even though all I want to do is run away.
I’ve seen attractive people before, of course. Who hasn’t? I see them every day. Sometimes, they stop by the bakery. Other times, I meet them at school. Sometimes, they’re even my professors, which makes them a little older—like Theo.
This is something else. My body’s reaction makes no sense. My hands shake, my heart races, and my smile is big enough to take over my face.
He’s even well-dressed, rare for a man, wearing light brown pants and a white shirt with an abstract pattern splashed across it. He’s not overdressed, but next to my brother’s beach bum look… well, he’s stunning.
Oh no. I’ve been quiet for an embarrassingly long time, haven’t I? This is the worst time to meet someone this good-looking. I’m covered in flour and powdered sugar, and my hair falls out of the bun on my head.
Everett was right. Theo is way too early; I didn’t even have time to get ready.
“Evie,” I mumble. “You can call me Evie.”