Page 148 of A Taste of Vanilla

Maybe that’s why I believe him.

“You have too many ideas,” he says.

A tear slips down my cheek. “Thanks.”

“You do. Your systems need work. So does your schedule. Your ovendefinitelyneeds to be fixed.”

“This is a terrible pep talk.”

“That’s because it’s not a pep talk, Hal.”

I ignore the nickname. “Clearly.”

“I’m giving you an assessment.”

My eyes roll to the back of my head. “Oh fantastic. My favorite romantic category.”

His mouth twitches. “Your bakery doesn’t need less of you, Halston. It doesn’t even need less whimsy.” He takes a deep breath. “It needs more structure around you.”

I stop breathing, and everything around me goes still.

Not less. More.

Not less of me. More structure around me.

My eyes burn.

“That sounds like something you put in your stupid little notebook.”

“It is.”

I laugh and cry at the same time, very aware of his eyes burning into me. “You wrote that down?”

He looks confused. “Why wouldn’t I?”

I cover my face and cry, moving backward until my ankles meet the shallow bottom stair. Then I sit and let myself feel it all.

But I’m all too aware of the large man kneeling in front of me, his forearms resting on my knees as his eyes level with mine.

“I hate that you’re good at this,” I mumble.

“At what?” he asks softly.

Making me feel seen while being objectively annoying.

His eyes crinkle.

I take a moment to wipe my eyes, then sigh deeply and square my shoulders. He stays where he is, and his touch sends a shiver down my spine. “Hey,” I say.

“Mm?”

“Thank you for not telling me to ignore him,” I say, another tear slipping down my cheek.

“You’re not the kind of person who ignores things.” His expression doesn’t change as his eyes search mine.

“No?”

“No. You turn them into something delicious.”