Page 19 of Tasting Sin

Ava’s face dropped, and she hurried to close the distance between us. “What does that mean for the bakery?” The same tears I thought I’d run out of welled in her eyes. I shook my head.

“Unless I buy it, we’re out.” I cleared my throat, trying to prevent the stinging from starting, and then I started laughing. My mind raced back to my shopping list and the plan to prepare and bake three hundred cupcakes and macarons, and I laughed harder.

“What’s so funny?” she asked when I started to gasp for air between roars of laughter I couldn’t control. I keeled over, resting my weight on the edge of the counter while tears started to run down my cheek. “Nellie, what the hell?”

I closed my eyes, sucking in one deep breath after the other until the rolling laughter calmed. When I reopened my eyes, Ava was looking at me like I was about to lose my mind. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I gasped for another breath. “I might have figured out a way to keep it, but it’s…not going to be easy.” I started to giggle again. Three hundred cupcakes!

“I’m listening,” Ava urged me to continue.

I sucked in a breath. “Okay, you remember that guy, Ronan?”

“The one you were adamant you’d never take help from?” She tilted her head to the side, lifting her brows in near disbelief. “You decided he can help you now?”

I shook my head. “No, but he hired me…us to cater his parents’ anniversary party.” Ava looked around waiting for me to continue. “He wants cupcakes and macarons for three hundred.”

Ava’s jaw dropped. “Did you just say three hundred? Like three hundred cupcakes? That’s a lot.” She no longer looked at me like she was concerned I was going to lose my mind. She looked at me like it was long gone. “When is it?”

“Next weekend.” I covered my face when she gasped.

“Nellie! That’s almost impossible!” She sounded appalled, but when I looked at her, her eyes lit up. “What did you say?”

I chewed on my lip, biting back a smile. I knew she felt the same rush of excitement I did at the thought of late nights covered in cake batter and frosting. “I told him we’d do it. It’d be almost enough money for a downpayment.”

“I thought you didn’t want his help,” she said, hesitant, even though I could see her hands twitching at her side in excitement.

I shrugged. “I don’t, but I’ll let him hire me and take every penny he’ll spend.”

“You’re insane,” she cackled, looking around at the bakery she had been part of from day one. “Let’s do it.”

“And five,” I said, heaving the fifth large drum of frosting onto the shelf in the walk-in. Ava and I made a small dent in the work today, but there were still dozens of cupcakes to bake and decorate. I chuckled. The ache in my lower back told me that being ready in time for the party this weekend was going to be nearly impossible, and when I saw the now-irrelevant yellow sign in the window from the corner of my eye, I was almost sure I agreed.

I took a deep breath, twisting to stretch my back. It didn’t make the ache go away, but I stretched again anyways and grabbed the rag. I bent over the counter, stretching to wipe smudges of frosting and batter from the steel prep counter. My hips dug into the hard edges before I pushed away.

Before I grabbed the broom, I turned the volume up on the old speakers. The sound crackled, but I recognized the pop song, humming along with the chorus. I swept cake crumbs and powdered sugar across the tile floor, pausing to dance during the guitar solo. Debris sprinkled from the bristles when I picked up the broom, strumming the handle. Loose strands of hair fell in my face as I rocked my head side to side. Suddenly, it was like I wasn’t in the bakery anymore.

I zoned out, getting into the music and singing along more loudly. For a moment, I wasn’t drowning under hundreds of desserts and gallons of frosting or the pressure of losing my only purpose. I was just dancing. I didn’t even care that I kicked dirt around more than I had swept it up.

When the song ended, I finished sweeping, gathering the crumbs in a pile and brushing them into a dustpan. The speaker crackled and went out, and I grumbled. “Damn it,” I said, giggling. “I knew that was going to happen when I turned it up.” I’d just have to tap the radio, and it’d somehow fix itself. It worked every time.

I dumped the crumbs into the trashcan, dropping the dustpan when a loud crash interrupted the silence. The crash of the dustpan against the tile made my heart skip another beat, and my feet left the ground. “What the hell?” I shrieked, spinning around.

Glass spread over the floor, and there was a large, uneven hole in the center of the front window. Cracks formed a spiderweb from the hole to the edges of the frame, disrupting my view of the dark street.

My skin felt clammy. A cold shiver rolled over me. I couldn’t breathe.

“What was that?” I asked again, knowing nobody would answer. Ava had gone home an hour or so earlier. It was just me.

I rounded the counter to the window. The yellow sign that had been taunting me for a couple weeks was hanging so the corner folded over the words. I lingered on it for a second, tracing one of the cracks up to the hole. When I looked through it, the dark street was empty. I could hear a car not far in the distance, but there was no one standing outside.

I started to shake. Who would do something like this? My chest heaved with each breath.

“Calm down,” I told myself, but nobody had ever taught me what you’re supposed to do when the front window to your bakery shatters at eleven at night. “Think, think, think.” I pressed my fingers into the sides of my temple.

When I kicked some of the loose glass out of my way, I looked down, stumbling over my breath when I saw a brick laying in the center of the mess. It had wire wrapped around it and what looked like a roughly folded piece of paper. I narrowed my eyes, taking a nervous breath.

My hands trembled, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to grasp the brick even as I bent down to pick it up. The rough sides were sharp, and when I gripped it, I closed my eyes. Glass broke under the brick. It sounded louder than the music had been, even louder than the deafening silence that followed the window breaking, but the sound of the glass shattering played on repeat in my mind.

The wire cut into my fingertips when I tried to untie it. I hissed, putting my finger to my lips. Instead of trying again, I walked over the shards of glass and sat the brick on the counter—the same counter that normally housed sweet treats people couldn’t wait to eat.

---