Page 88 of The Boyfriend Algorithm

“Ruby.” Caroline takes off her reading glasses and sets them on the desk. “I’m going to be honest with you. When I met you at the wedding, I wasn’t sure. You had the product—your cinnamon rolls are genuinely exceptional. But I wasn’t confident about the business behind them.”

My stomach tightens.

“Today I’m confident.” She folds her hands. “I’d like to offer you a booth. Third row, near the entrance. High traffic. All three days.”

The air leaves my lungs.

“The vendor fee is five hundred, due thirty days before the event. I’ll send you the logistics packet this week. You’ll need your health permits current, your liability insurance updated, and a staffing plan for the full run.”

I nod. I’m nodding. I can’t stop nodding. “Yes. Okay.”

“And Ruby?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t undersell yourself again. You walked in here and almost gave me the small version. The small version would’ve lost the booth.” She puts her glasses back on. “Lead with the cinnamon rolls next time.”

I shake her hand. Walk out of the office. Down the stairs. Through the lobby. Into the parking lot. Sit in my car.

And then I cry.

Not the bad kind. Not the bakery-is-failing, oven-is-broken, Josh-got-engaged kind. The other kind. The kind that comes from doing something hard and doing it right and having someone believe in you—and then believing in yourself.

I pull out my phone and call the bakery.

Aiden picks up before the first ring finishes. “How did it go?”

“I got it.” My voice is wet and shaky and grinning.

“I knew you would.”

“You didn’t know that.”

“I knew it with ninety-four percent confidence.”

I laugh. Wipe my face with the back of my hand. “How? How did you know?”

He’s quiet for a second. Not processing quiet. The other kind—the kind where he’s choosing the true thing instead of the smart thing.

“Because you’re Ruby Hart,” he says. “Because you’re amazing. And because your cinnamon rolls make people close their eyes on the first bite. And anyone who sits across from you for five minutes can see that the bakery isn’t your job. It’s your whole heart.”

I sit in my car in a parking lot with tears running down my face and my phone pressed to my ear and a festival booth with my name on it.

“Thank you,” I say.

“You didn’t need me there.”

“I know.”

“But I’m glad you called.”

Me too, I think. Me too.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Ruby

Trust the Process