LEXIE
Tuesday morning I left for work early, mostly because I'd woken up craving something sweet and my willpower had never once in my life stood a chance against a good pastry.
I took the long way past the bakery instead of the direct route, telling myself it was barely out of the way, which was technically true and also completely beside the point.
The smell hit me before I even reached the door, warm and buttery, and I pushed inside with the enthusiasm of someone who had already mentally spent the money.
The woman behind the counter looked up, surprised for a second before smiling properly. She was maybe mid-twenties, dark hair pulled back, an apron dusted with flour that suggested she'd already been at it for hours.
"You're new," I said, stepping up to the bakery counter.
"That
