"People need coffee."
"So serve coffee. But the pastries are the star."
The oven timer goes off. I pull out the croissants — golden, flaky, perfect layers visible on the sides. Made mostly one-handed with Toby as my proxy, and they're still better than anything Gordon ever produced.
"Holy shit," Toby breathes.
"They are professional." I break one open. Steam rises. Layers separate like pages in a book. "I'm a professional. I've always been a professional. Gordon just spent seven years making me forget that."
Vaughn walks in. Stops dead. Surveys the flour-coated kitchen, the business books, the croissants.
"What happened?"
"Business planning," Toby says. "Try a croissant."
Vaughn takes one. Bites. His eyes close. "Fuck."
"Good fuck or bad fuck?"
"Marry me fuck."
My face goes hot. "They're just croissants."
"Nothing you make is 'just' anything." He kisses me, tasting of butter and pastry. "What's all this?"
"Toby brought books. We're planning my empire."
"Empire might be ambitious," Toby says. "Let's start with a duchy."
Jason appears with Ash. They smelled the croissants from upstairs — apparently the whole house smells like a French bakery. Ash takes one bite and says "ten dollars."
"You can't charge ten dollars for a croissant," I protest.
"You can if it's this good," Vaughn argues.
"These are better than the ones from that French place downtown," Jason says, reaching for a second. "And they charge eight."
They're all looking at me. Toby with his notebook. Vaughn with his hands on my waist. Ash with his money he doesn't know what to do with. Jason with his understanding of what this food is worth.
"I'd need a space," I say quietly.
"We'll find one," Vaughn says.
"And equipment."
"Business loans," Toby says. "And investors." He looks meaningfully at Ash, who nods.
"And I can't even use both hands right now."
"You've got all of us," Jason says simply. "We're your hands until yours work again."
I look around the kitchen. Flour on every surface. Business books on the table. Croissants cooling on the rack. And these people — my brother, my best friend, my boyfriend, my brother's boyfriend — standing in the mess of my half-formed dream and looking at it like it's already real.
"Okay," I say. "Let's do this."
Toby bounces. Literally bounces. "Really?"
"Really. Robin's... something. Bakery. Café. Whatever it turns out to be."