PENELOPE
I arrived at the bakery just as the sun was beginning to set, carrying the cake box like it was made of gold. Because honestly? It kind of was.
The three-tier chocolate cake I’d stayed up decorating was nestled safely inside, complete with delicate butterflies, edible gold dust, and pink frosting swirls that looked like little clouds. Olivia was going to lose her mind.
It was early—barely 8:45 a.m.—and Maya was already there, tying her apron and wiping down the counter like her life depended on it.
“Morning,” I greeted.
“Hi!” she said a little too brightly. “I got here twenty minutes ago just to, you know, get used to everything.”
I smiled. “You’re going to be just fine. No pressure today. Just follow our lead and breathe, okay?”
I’d barely set the box down and slipped into
