Page 4 of Flake It Til You Make It

“Well, at least someone might,” Rocco said under his breath. Then louder, “I’ll email it to you.”

“Great. Thanks.” Oliver paused, and Rocco could practically hear the wheels turning in his head.Don’t ask, don’t ask, just don’t ask.“Everything alright?”

Dang it. He’d asked.

“Fine,” Rocco said, but he could hear the high, false note in his own voice.

“Rocco, you know running a business is hard. But then I don’t have to tell you that. You want to talk about it? Everyone has a bad day, every once in awhile.”

“How about a badmonth?”

There was only silence on the other end. Rocco wished he hadn’t said it. Wished he’d kept his failure a secret.

“Is it going that badly?” Oliver sounded cautious. Careful.

“I fucked it up.” Rocco rubbed a hand over his face. Knew the moment the words were out of his mouth this time that it actually felt good to tell Oliver and stop trying to grind it out alone.

He had Rebecca, sure, but hehadn’tmade any other friends in town. In fact, it felt like the exact goddamn opposite.

He’d been lucky they hadn’t run him out of town already for refusing to make a pumpkin spice latte.

“What?” Oliver sounded shocked. “How could you? Rocco, you’regreatat this. The place looked awesome. Just perfect for you.”

“That’s the worst of it,” Rocco said glumly. “Itwasperfect.”

“Well, what happened? Tell me about it,” Oliver coaxed.

“Ugh, so you know the marzipan latte? That’s the problem. That’s the whole problem.”

“Huh.”

“I changed too many things, too fast,” Rocco admitted. “And I took a bunch of stuff people loved off the menu.” He made a groan. “Including fucking pumpkin spice.”

Oliver chuckled. “You didn’t.”

“I know.” Rocco groaned again. “Iknow. It’s back on the menu, but the thing is it pissed off some people, most of theregulars, and now they won’t come back. I get some tourist business, but it’s not the same. It’s not Sweetie Pie’s.”

Oliver sighed when Rocco brought up his bakery. “Sweetie Pie’s didn’t start like you saw it, you know that.”

“Yeah, but it still got there,” Rocco said despondently. “I’m not sure Jolly Java is gonna get there.”

Just saying it out loud made Rocco want to cry. He’d poured so much into this business. Every penny he’d saved starting back when he’d been only a gangly teenager, every time he’d put in a twelve or fourteen or sixteen hour day, doing what he loved, but that wasstillfucking hard work. He’d done it because ofthisday. But nowthis dayhad come, and it wasn’t anything like he’d expected—and honestly, some of that was his own damn fault, and that made it even worse.

“You’re gonna fix it,” Oliver soothed. “You put pumpkin spice back on the menu, right?”

“Yes,” Rocco said, laughing because it was better than crying. “And gingerbread, too.”

“Good,” Oliver said. “I’ve read about Christmas Falls. The community there is so fantastic. You can win them back. Iknowyou can, Rocco. You won me over, didn’t you?”

“You were easy,” Rocco scoffed. “You were predisposed to like me. I’m a Moretti, and you’remarriedto a Moretti.”

Oliver laughed. “True. But you’re still a good-natured, charming guy. Maybe you’re not Ren, but you’re no slouch.”

“Nobody is Ren except for Ren,” Rocco retorted, referring to his cousin Lorenzo, who had cut a swath through the eligible bachelors of Los Angeles with breathtaking ease.

“What I’msayingis deploy some of that infamous Moretti charm,” Oliver said. “Peoplelikeyou. If they like you, they’ll figure out they made a mistake.”

“Does that mean I can’t hide in my apartment, drowning my sorrows with Cherry Garcia?” Rocco asked. Even though he already knew that Rebecca wouldn’t let him tonight, anyway.

---