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Ava floated through the next few days like she was living in a dream.
Her mornings began with the scent of cinnamon and vanilla, her afternoons blurred into laughter and flour-dusted counters, and her nights—well, they were filled with anticipation. Texts from Ethan, photos of meals he was experimenting with, little quotes from books he thought she'd love. Nothing grand, nothing overwhelming—just simple gestures that left a warmth in her chest she couldn't shake.
But real life has a way of tapping on your shoulder just when you start to settle in.
It was a rainy Tuesday when the knock came. Ava had just pulled a batch of honey-lemon scones from the oven when the bell above the bakery door jingled. She looked up, expecting her usual early morning crowd.
Instead, a woman stepped in. Tall, impeccably dressed in a charcoal trench coat, dark auburn hair pulled into a sleek bun. She didn't look like a customer.
"Can I help you?" Ava asked, wiping her hands on her apron.
The woman's gaze swept the bakery. "You're Ava, right? Owner of Sweet Delights?"
Ava nodded cautiously. "That's me."
"I'm Celeste." The woman offered a tight smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm Ethan's editor."
Ava blinked. "Oh. I didn't realize—"
"We're working on a new project together," Celeste continued. "A book, actually. A collection of essays on food, culture, and human connection. Ethan mentioned you briefly. I thought it was time we met."
Ava tried to piece together what this meant. "Okay… What brings you here?"
Celeste stepped closer, lowering her voice slightly. "I wanted to clarify something. Ethan's involvement with you—personally, I mean—could complicate things professionally. His reviews need to remain impartial, and you've…well, become something of a local phenomenon since his piece."
Ava's stomach twisted.
"I'm not here to cause drama," Celeste added quickly. "But I need to make sure Ethan understands what's at stake. His credibility, his future projects. You understand, right?"
Before Ava could respond, Celeste turned toward the door. "Lovely scones, by the way," she said lightly. "You have a real gift. Just be careful where you mix business with pleasure."
And then she was gone, her heels clicking against the tile as she disappeared into the rain.
Ava stood frozen, the scent of warm pastry suddenly cloying. Her heart pounded—not just from Celeste's words, but from the doubt they stirred.
Was she hurting Ethan's career?
That night, when Ethan called to ask about dinner, Ava hesitated before answering.
"Can we talk tomorrow instead?" she said, forcing her voice to sound even.
There was a pause on the other end. "Sure. Everything okay?"
"Yeah," she lied. "Just a long day."
After she hung up, Ava sat alone in the quiet bakery, surrounded by trays of baked goods that should've brought her comfort. But her thoughts kept circling the same question:
Was falling for Ethan worth risking everything she'd built?
And worse—was she a distraction he couldn't afford?
Outside, the rain fell harder, streaking the windows like ink across parchment. For the first time in weeks, Ava didn't feel light.
She felt uncertain. Exposed.
And entirely unprepared for the storm that might be coming.
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