Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Mount Everest? Has Mia landed on that side of TikTok too? I don't know how I got there, but I can't look away from it. All those people paying a crap ton of money to climb a mountain, only to possibly die while doing it. That is not how I’d like to spend my hard-earned money.
“Stilts!” Lucy half shouts.
“Okay, what’s all the commotion?” Tilly asks when she comes in from the back of the bakery. The hardware store is right next door, so she uses the back alley to come over. As my best friend, she has free rein to do so.
“We’re talking about the not-so-Jolly Giant,” Mia snickers.
“Oh.” Tilly puts it all together at the same time I do. “You’re talking about Lankenstein.”
“Lankenstein,” Lucy repeats through laughter. “That’s a good one.”
"His name is Noah," I tell them all, but I don't think they care. They're having too much fun coming up with names on their own.
"Wait a second," Tilly says, and hearing his name gets her full attention. "The Noah with the cake? Asshole Noah?" Her eyes narrow. Shit, I shouldn't have said his name. Tilly knows all about the cake incident last night. "That was him?"
"Ahh, no?" I don't need her chasing after him, so I hope his grumpy ass is halfway back up to his cabin at this point. He didn’t appear to be happy being down here.
"Are you done with his new cake?" Tilly asks, her tone sugary sweet. "I'd love to deliver it for you." Hell, I too would love nothing more than to take her up on that offer, but I don’t have time for another cake to be destroyed.
"Not happening," I tell her, making her lips press together in a firm line. "Tilly, seriously."
No one is better at being petty and getting revenge than my best friend. We really balance each other out. I keep her out of jail, and she keeps people from walking all over me.
"What's going on? I'm missing something here," Mia asks. I didn’t tell them about the cake incident. I’ve embarrassed myself enough.
"It's nothing." I wave them both off. "I need a count of each item sold." I give them a task to get their focus elsewhere. "Tilly." I nod for her to come to the back with me.
"Wait, are you guys going to go talk about the giant hottie?" Lucy isn't ready to let this go.
"The count," I repeat, annoyed about the "hottie" comment. The other nicknames were kind of amusing.
"Come on." Now it's Tilly pulling me toward my kitchen in the back so we're alone. "You look like shit."
"What the hell?" I can only let out a ridiculous laugh at her comment.
"I mean it in the way of you needing sleep."
"I'm fine." I make my way over to Noah's cake.
"You're not fine. I can tell you're exhausted. It's even in your voice,” she points out. "Not to mention I've only gotten one laugh from you and no smiles. You're off."
“I'm not off, but I do need a good night's sleep. It's getting harder to keep up."
"Then why are you?" Tilly rests her hips against the counter next to me.
"What do you mean? I keep selling out, so I need more product." I also need more space in my kitchen if I want to start producing more treats each day. My ovens are already in full use every second that I’m here.
"Why?" she asks again, and I stop what I'm doing to stare at her.
"I just told you why."
"If you sell out, you sell out.” She shrugs. “Flip the sign to closed. Is it worth running yourself ragged to try and keep up?"
Holy Christmas balls. That’s not something I’ve considered because it’s never been an option in my mind. I’m not sure why, but I suppose I just keep pushing forward.
"I don't know." I take in a deep breath and let it back out.
"I think you should really think it over. Also, you don't have to be open seven days a week, and if you are, it doesn't mean you need to be here. Mia and Lucy will have your back. You need to learn to delegate." I know she's right, but that's easier said than done.
“Okay, I’ll think on it,” I tell her, hoping she’ll back off the subject.
“Molly, I know you. You’re going to push this conversation to the back of your mind, and the next time I show up over here, you’re going to put pep in your step and hit me with a bullshit smile.”
“Hey, my smiles aren’t bullshit,” I huff. Okay, they might be. Also, once again she’s right.
“Not all of them. I mean, we can talk about it if you want.”
“Talk about what?” I’m not sure what she is getting at.
“How you stay extra busy and never slow down because if you do, you might have to process how you’re really feeling. All those built-up emotions.”