Page 231 of A Taste of Vanilla
A woman I’ve hated in sharp flashes. Who I’ve avoided thinking about in order not to compare myself.
She stops just inside.
I grip the edge of the counter.
Dev is steaming milk beside me, humming quietly. Lisa is taking cookies out of the oven for a bulk order, and Marley is in the corner with her laptop pretending not to watch our social metrics. Warren is in the kitchen.
When her eyes find mine, her face goes pale.
No one speaks.
Then Dev, sweet, innocent, disastrous Dev, says, “Welcome to Bitter Bloom! Where sweetness is not weakness. What can I?—”
He looks at me.
Then at Elise.
Then back at me.
His mouth closes.
Good instincts. A little late, but good.
Elise takes one step forward. “Halston.”
My name sounds wrong in her mouth. I mean, she’s not saying it wrong, but the last time she said it she was half-dressed and apologizing.
Marley rises slowly from her chair, her laptop still open and a murderous scowl on her face.
“No,” I say quietly.
Marley freezes, but her eyes don’t leave Elise.
“She can order,” I say.
Elise’s mouth trembles. “I’m not here to order.”
And while that’s not surprising—people who do what she did rarely walk into the bakery of the woman they helped humiliate—my heart jumps into my throat.
“Then why are you here?” I take my apron towel from my shoulder and fold it once, then again, because my hands are desperate to do something.
She looks around the bakery. At Dev and Lisa, and finally atMarley. At the kitchen doorway, where I can feel Warren’s presence behind me.
I look behind me and find him staring, his jaw tight.
“I was hoping we could talk privately,” Elise says.
Marley laughs once. “Absolutely not.”
“Marley,” I warn.
“What?” She looks at me, anger all over her face. “You said she can order. She’s choosing not to. That concludes the customer experience.”
Elise takes the hit without flinching, which surprises me. Maybe I wanted her to. Maybe I want her to defend herself.
Maybe I was hoping she would be easier to hate.
“I understand,” she says.
