7. Amelia
Amelia
“You look refreshed,” Aunt Tilly says as I walk into the bakery around noon. I’ve had less than twenty-four hours to recover from my trip, and the time change isn’t doing me any favors. “I heard you finally came clean about where you skittered off to.”
“Yep. It was fun,” I tell her as I grab an apron off a hook near the bread case behind the counter. “But I’m glad to be home.”
“Do anything crazy?” she asks like she somehow knows something, when there’s no way she does. “Vegas is magical.”
“Magical?” I huff out a laugh. “That’s not the word I’d use to describe it.”
Tilly bumps me with her hip. “Everything is possible in Vegas.”
She isn’t wrong. Who knew you could get married on a whim without any waiting period? Not me. “Nothing crazy. Just some drinks and gambling.”
I’ve been dying to tell someone, but my aunt isn’t the person to spill my guts to. I love my family, I really do, but they have big mouths, and secrets never stay secrets for long if you share something with anyone.
“What do you need me to do?” I ask her, wanting to change the subject.
Tilly’s heading into retirement. She opened the bakery more than twenty-five years ago, getting up early every single day while raising kids. I honestly don’t know how she did it. On mornings when I open, I feel like the walking dead, and no amount of coffee helps.
When she offered to train me to take over the bakery, I jumped at the chance, though. This place is filled with nothing but good memories from my childhood, and there is too much nostalgia to let it fall into unknown hands.
Did I always want to be a baker? No, but I also didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. There are worse things than being surrounded by cupcakes all day.
“I ordered the fancy coffee machine you wanted. It came in on Saturday. It’s all set up.” She points to the other end of the counter where the Italian espresso machine is ready for use.
It feels like Christmas, and my heart leaps as my eyes land on the one machine I wanted to elevate the bakery.
Tilly has always served coffee, but the only options were regular or decaf.
I wanted to give our customers more options and possibly bring in a whole new clientele who want coffee and not necessarily baked goods.
“Why don’t you test it out a bit? I could use a coffee, and by the looks of you, you could too,” she adds.
“I’m not sure there’s enough coffee in the world to make me feel normal today,” I tell her as I walk toward the shiny, new espresso machine.
Lack of sleep isn’t throwing me off today, no matter how much I pretend it is. It’s the fact that I’m someone’s wife, and yet, I have no memory of saying “I do.”
“What time are you staying until today?” I ask her as I run my fingertip across the cool metal.
“A few more hours. The afternoon crew will be here soon.”
I do mostly front-of-house work and bookkeeping, making sure the place runs smoothly.
Luckily, I’m not in charge of baking. Tilly’s hired two trained pastry chefs to prepare everything for the store, and they rotate their schedules, making sure a baker is always here and our bakery cases are always full.
If the store had to rely on me for the cupcakes, cakes, and cookies, we’d be in trouble. I’m subpar at best when it comes to making something edible. But since Tilly has the shop running like a well-oiled machine, I don’t have to get my hands dirty to keep the place open and successful.
“You want a latte?” I ask her as I scoop out espresso beans. “I saw some amazing flavor combinations in Vegas that I want to try to replicate.”
“I’d love one, and I want it sweet,” she replies as the door to the bakery opens and a customer walks in with a little girl at her side. “I’ve got them. You make the lattes.”
I do as Tilly says and busy myself with learning how the coffee machine works.
I’ve watched countless videos preparing for the day it finally arrived.
Thankfully, all my preparation makes everything run smoothly, and I’m able to whip up one of the drinks before the customers have a chance to sit down to enjoy their cupcakes.
I set down the ivory coffee cup next to Tilly as she stands near the register. “I hope you like it.”
She lifts the cup to her nose and inhales. “I smell maple syrup.”
“It’s a French Toast Latte.”
Her eyebrows rise. “That sounds amazing.”
“I hope it tastes amazing too,” I tell her, lifting my cup to my mouth too. I finished the warm foam with a touch of cinnamon to really drive home the French toast flavor and not just maple syrup.
I take a sip, not swallowing it right away. I let the liquid sit on my tongue, allowing the flavors to develop. Not bad for my first time, but it could use some more refinement.
Tilly licks her lips after the first taste. “This will be a big hit,” she tells me. “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted any coffee as good as this.”
“It’s good, but not that good, Auntie.”
“It is,” she disagrees. “It definitely needs to be on the menu.”
“I’ll put it on,” I tell her. “But I need to fine-tune it a bit.”
“Sometimes you need to learn to accept something is great or else you’ll always be chasing perfection and never achieve anything. Remember, you’re always your hardest critic, kiddo.”
I love my aunt. She’s always been a positive person, and today’s no different. If it weren’t for her attitude, I don’t think I ever could’ve agreed to take over the bakery. She has complete faith in my ability not to run it into the ground.
“You’re right, but I can’t make it once and think it’s perfect. I promise not to work on it for too long, but it has to be great if we want people to come back.”
Aunt Tilly places her hand on my shoulder. “That’s why you’re the best person to hand my bakery over to, Amelia. You want to serve only the best and understand the importance of the customer experience.”
“Thanks, Auntie.” I beam under her sweet words. I swear, I could make the worst drink ever, and she’d have something nice to say about it.
My phone vibrates, skittering against the counter near the fancy new espresso machine.
“I’m going to go in the back. You okay out here?” she asks, holding her latte.
“I got it,” I tell her as I grab my phone off the counter and glance at the screen.
My heart jumps when I see his name.
Reed: Talked to my brother. He’s working on it.
Well, at least he didn’t ghost me. Part of me fully expected to never hear from him and to have to figure out filing for a divorce on my own.
Me: Thanks. Keep me updated.
I’m about to set my phone down when it vibrates again.
Reed: Recovered yet? I feel like shit.
The weekend was more than I expected. Not only more gambling, but way more drinks than I’ve had in a long time.
Me: It’s going to take me a few days.
Reed: To say we overdid it is an understatement.
I chuckle because he isn’t wrong. We went way beyond regular-people drunk and shot straight into blackout, do-dumb-shit drunk in a heartbeat.
Me: How’s the “ranch”?
Reed: What’s with the quotes?
I smile as I type out a reply.
Me: Because you probably work an office job but wear the getup to score with the ladies.
Reed: It worked, though, didn’t it?
Me: See. You are an office guy.
He can video chat his mom all he wants to, but that doesn’t mean he gets his hands dirty every day. His parents own a ranch. I know that, but part of me has trouble believing he earned the cowboy hat and didn’t buy it in a gift shop or store before he arrived in Vegas.
The three little dots flash on the screen. I set the phone down when the woman who walked in with her daughter a few minutes ago approaches the counter. “Hello. Can I help you?” I ask her.
“Can I have one of those lattes? It smells heavenly.”
I’m giddy at her request. “Coming right up, and it’s on the house. I’m still practicing.”
“Oh. Wow. I couldn’t.”
“You’d be doing me a favor,” I tell her. “Does your daughter want a hot cocoa or something too?”
“My niece would love one,” she replies. Ah, it’s an auntie spoiling her niece. Part of me is jealous. I don’t have any siblings, but I have plenty of cousins with kids whom I’m able to spoil rotten.
“I’ll bring them over to you when they’re ready.”
She smiles at me. “Thank you so much.”
“I’m happy to do it,” I tell her before she walks back to her table, sliding into her chair across from her niece.
Waiting for me on the screen of my phone is a video. I tap to play as I grab the espresso container. Reed’s face fills my screen, surrounded by lush greenery and mooing cows. He lifts an arm as he spins, his face peppered in dirt and sweat.
Damn. The man is truly fine. I can see why drunk Amelia walked down that aisle.
He is the perfect package. Smoldering looks, rippling muscles, sun-kissed skin, sweet-talking, and funny.
There wasn’t a red flag to be seen and still isn’t…
not yet, at least. Not that it matters because Reed is only going to be a memory and a funny story to tell someday.
I don’t reply to him and busy myself making the two drinks. My phone vibrates a few more times, but I don’t glance down or take my eye off my task at hand.
My aunt takes that moment to walk out of the back and stand right by my phone. The next time it vibrates, she looks down.
“Who’s Reed?” she asks.
“No one.” I say those words a little too quickly. I know it, and she knows it too.
“No one, huh?” Tilly laughs. “Is he part of the what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas?”
“Maybe,” I say, nearly singing the word.
Tilly raises an eyebrow as I glance at her. “Do I get any more details?”
I shake my head as I snag my phone off the counter and put it in the front pocket of my apron. “We just hung out. I’ll never see him again. He lives in South Dakota.”
She shivers. “Chicago’s cold, but I think South Dakota has got to be more miserable than here. I could never.”
“Me either,” I tell her.
If I ever moved anywhere, which I never plan to do, I’d head south to sunshine and year-round warmth. I’ll never understand why my grandparents didn’t follow their siblings south when they were younger.
“Did someone order a latte?” she asks me as I finish the final touches on the French Toast Latte.
I tick my head toward the woman and her niece. “She wanted one, but I didn’t charge her. I want her feedback.”
“Smart,” she says. “Let me know what she says. I’ll be back.”
Tilly disappears into the back of the bakery again, leaving me to manage the front of the store. Nothing I can’t handle. I’ve been working here for over a year, and the final handoff is only days away.
She didn’t want to sell her entire interest in the bakery to me, so I purchased a fifty percent stake instead.
Someday, I hope Tilly will be ready to sell me her half, but she’s a bit of a workaholic.
I don’t think she’s sold on the idea of complete retirement and wants the ability to come back if she gets bored.
I don’t dare look at my phone again until I’ve delivered the latte and cocoa, which the woman raves about. I guess it’s good and I am being too hard on myself, like my aunt said.
Reed: What are you doing? Show me.
This is a slippery slope. Reed is a mistake from my past, and trading videos and texts feels a little too much like courting.
Reed: Are you home or at work?
I can’t remember if I told him what I did for a living. Who knows what we said to each other after all the shots we drank. I could’ve spilled my entire life story, including my famous parents.
I think about not texting him back, but that seems cold, especially since I’m relying on him to fix our marriage issue. I chuckle at the ridiculousness of the statement. Marriage issue.
Me: I’m at the bakery.
Reed: Show me.
I sigh as I glance around, wondering if it’s a good idea. Probably not, but when it comes to Reed, I seem to make all the wrong decisions. I take a quick video, barely showing my face, but getting everything else in the frame.
Reed’s reply is quicker than I expected.
Reed: That looks like heaven.
The words are accompanied by an emoji with heart eyes.
Reed: Did you make all that?
Me: Hell no. I’m an awful baker.
Reed: Cashier, then.
Me: Yeah.
I lie. Reed doesn’t need to know everything about me. He already knows about my family’s bar and that I work at the bakery, but he doesn’t need to know I’m part owner of the bakery too.
Reed: I couldn’t be that close to cupcakes all day and not gain weight.
I find it hard to believe the man could ever be anything other than chiseled muscle.
He had ripples where I didn’t even think people could get them.
I may not remember sleeping with him, but the next morning when I lost my shit about our marriage, I did get a very good, long look at his body.
I’d high-five myself on scoring such a hot guy if it weren’t such a clusterfuck of a situation.
Me: It’s how I keep myself curvy.
Reed: Never stop.
My belly flips at his statement. Reed looked at me like a meal every time I saw him last weekend. I don’t think any man has ever looked at me the same way as he did. And I know in this moment that I’ll never settle for anything less.
There is another Reed out there for me. Someone I can get to know, fall in love with, and who lives within the Chicago city limits.
Someday I’ll find him.
Someday I’ll be someone’s happily ever after.
But right now, my husband isn’t him and is only a wrinkle in my life.
One who taught me a lesson.
Never settle for anyone who doesn’t look at me the same way I stare at a crème br?lée cupcake.