I push the door open to Everhart Bakery, the familiar bell above jingling softly. The warm, comforting scent of freshly baked pastries fills the air, but it does little to calm the tightness in my chest. The knot that’s been growing ever since I read Celine’s text last night: “We need to talk. It’s urgent.”
I glance around and spot her at the back, sitting at a corner table. Her hands are wrapped around a coffee cup, her fingers tapping anxiously. She doesn’t see me yet, so I take a moment to collect myself.
I take a deep breath before walking over and sitting down. “Celine,” I start, trying to sound steady, but I can already feel my heart racing. “What’s going on? You said it was urgent.”
She looks up at me, her eyes heavy with something I can't quite place. She hesitates before speaki
