Page 13 of The Fate Of Us

His deep-set eyes brightened. “If she’s got any of those Bakewell tarts, I’ll take two. My wife can't get enough of them.”

I couldn’t help but mirror his whimsy smirk. “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll meet you outback in ten.”

“See ya, Adaline.”

I tossed Paulie a wink before I slipped out of the car and peered up at the bakerybefore me. The bakery my best friend owns.The cursive letters pinned above the doorway reading ‘Flo’s’ always made me giddy,knowing what that girl had gone through, what she’d done to make her dreams come to life… my heart swelled with so much pride that I was convinced it’d burst before I even got to see her.

She only opened this place before the holidays, and already she has the entire city addicted to the sweettreats of her homeland. For me, though, I was forming a very serious relationship with her custard tarts.Egg custards, she calls them. But whatever they're called, I felt a cosmic connection with them, much like the girl who made them.

As I shuffled my way past the stampede of commuters, speed-walking to their jobs tooquickly to recognise me, my gaze locked on the door that I knew would be locked, considering she didn’t open for another ten minutes. But seeing as though I’m here most mornings, she’ll be here to let me in any moment.

And like the thought of her conjured her up, I spot Florence through the glass door andmirror her overly enthusiastic wave as she sets down the tray of whatever she’d been baking since dawn and skips over to the door to let me in.Flo lets out a squeal as she pulls me into her chest, not minding the March breeze that skates through the open door. My arms wrap around her, my head resting on her shoulder as I take in the bakery.

She’s made this place beyond adorable. If Florence were to somehow turn into abuilding, I’m positive this is what it would look like. The lavender tiles that lined the back wall behind the counter were my favourite touch; the marble tables and the pastry case came a close second and third.

“Adddyyyyy, how are you?!” Flo asked as she unwrapped her arms from me, slidingher hands down to mine and squeezing them gently.

The mother of all sighs stumbled from my lips. “Tired… and desperately craving oneof your—” Flo let go of me suddenly, spinning on her heels and grabbing a plate that was sitting on the counter behind her.

“Custard tart?” she asked with a sweet grin, holding the plate under her chin.

My head bobbed to the side. “Have I ever told you I love you?”

“Many times. And I love you too. Now eat. Do you want a coffee?” She called, skipping back behind the counter.

“Are you sure? Do you need help with anything? Want me to—”

My words gethushed by the two girls who just walked out of the staffroom sporting cute frilly aprons withFlo’sembroidered in the corner, their giggles halting along with their steps when their eyes land on me.

“Fucking hell—” The one with the onyx bob and fringe gasps, a hint of an accent breaking through, before thegirl with the long chestnut hair and deep sun-kissed skin next to her elbows her side.

“Oh my God, you can’t curse in front of Adaline Moore, Cora. That’s so rude,” shewhispers, before turning her head to face me. “Sorry about this one, Adaline; she’s on her period; she’s not normally this profane—”

Cora elbows her back. “Rory!” Her pearly hands fly to her face, covering most of theredness that’s invaded her cheeks. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you just told Adaline Moore that I’m having my monthly moment. That’s it, I’m gonna go cry in the freezer.” she projects, her clear English accent, similar to Flo’s, penetrating her words as she lifts her hands.

Me and Flo both eyeball each other, trying to conceal our laughter, before myattention falls back on the pair. “No, no, it’s okay. Nice to meet you both!”

Rory gives Cora another elbow. “See, she’s cool.” She flips her shiny brown hair, scrunched like it was dusted with salt air, over hershoulder before eyeing me again. “Can I just say, while you’re here, I loved your Met Gala outfit last year. You totally nailed the theme. Oh, and we both loved—”

Flo spins to face the girls. “Right, okay, leave the A-lister alone; she’s very, very busy.Now, Rory, will you start by bringing out the Bakewell tarts and the lemon buns that are in the fridge.” Rory waves at me before doing a one-eighty into the kitchen. “And Cora, can you bring out the cash float in the back so I get you on the register?”

“No probs!” She gives a solid salute in Flo’s direction before heading into what Iassume is the office.

I note the sigh that slips from Flo as she faces me again. “They’re cute,”

A hazy smile lights up her face before she gets started on our coffees, taking thechance to steal a seat on one of the spinning stools by the breakfast bar. “They graduate high school in a few months, both starting Liberty Grove in autumn. Cora's actually from the town where I grew up, just outside London. She's an influencer of some kind, I forgot to ask her, but occasionally her security turns up—"

"Security?"

"Oh yeah," she says over the steam eruption, swatting the fog away. "She's arguably more famous than you."

"Huh," I wondered, racking my brain to try and figure out who she was. I bet Goldie knew about her.

“Anyway," Flo stole my attention back. "They came to me a few weeks ago, asked if I had any part-time hours,andthey said that they could stay on when they started college. I haven’t had any trouble with them, and they work really hard.” she spun back around with two perfectly crafted lattes, my eyes getting lost in the foam art heart. “Plus, they do crack some really funny jokes sometimes.”

I take a sip, swaying from side to side on the stool while peering up at her. “So theydon’trun fan accounts dedicated to your boyfriend and ask you where he was born or where he likes to hang out on his own?” I have to hover my hand over my mouth, disguising the smile that I know Flo can still see.

“Don’t even go there. I’m not over it yet.” Her face turns to stone, but I still clockwhen the corners of her mouth twinge the more she looks at me. “Do you want this tart or not?”

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