I can’t stop thinking about it. The dream. The way it felt like Sebastian was right there with me, like I could still feel his hands on my skin, his lips against mine. I try to shake it off as I walk around the bakery, arranging pastries and wiping down the counter, but every movement feels wrong. Like I’m still wrapped in that dream, like it’s not over yet.
I breathe out slowly, focusing on the familiar sounds—the hum of the oven, the soft clink of the cash register, the chatter of customers. But there’s no escaping it. Every time I pass a mirror, I see my flushed cheeks. Every time I touch something, it’s like his hands are still there.
My fingers tremble a little as I put a tray of croissants into the display case. Damn it, I can’t even focus.
“Morning, Selina!”
I turn to see Mrs. B
