Page 275 of A Taste of Vanilla

I’m confused and look down.

Lists have been some of the only things that have ever made sense to me. You can make one for anything. You do the thing; you check it off.

But they’re rigid and don’t allow for much editing.

It occurs to me that this is a structure that allows Halston to make room for herself.

“Halston,” I say softly.

She shakes her head. “Don’t be nice.” And then she smiles. “You emotionally constipated cinnamon roll.”

I blink.

Marley laughs and Dev gasps from out front.

“I’m not constipated,” I argue.

Halston looks up, tears spilling from her eyes. “That’s the part you’re fighting me on?”

I don’t really understand why it wouldn’t be. “Cinnamon rolls use an enriched dough. They’re not really emotionally relevant.”

Oliver sighs. “He always finds a way to ruin it.” But he smiles.

Halston swipes a paper towel under her eye. “I can’t believe this is the man I’m in love with.”

The room goes quiet.

You can tell that it was an inside thought that wasn’t supposed to come out of her mouth by the way she stops, her eyes going wide and panic gripping her chest.

The words sit between us, unplanned and unprotected under the bright overhead lights.

I don’t move toward her, no matter how much I want to.

“I’m in love with you too,” I say, quietly enough that it can stay partly ours.

Her face crumples. “I’m still mad.”

“I know.”

“We need to have a talk later.”

“Absolutely.”

“And I’m not emotionally stable enough for you to be this hot in my bakery.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Marley wipes her eyes. “This is disgusting.”

Halston laughs. For real this time. It’s full, bright, and messy. The sound hits me and warms me through.

I begin the list under the title.

Latte special names, provided the base recipe remains unchanged.

Garnish color.

Chalkboard wording.