Not like that, perv! LOL. I have a present for you.
Meet me at the little bakery down the street from your house in about an hour?
Okay!
I shower fast and change before heading out.
I'd already planned to be over there anyway. I want to bring a cake over to Aunt Val's for my birthday dinner later. We've passed that bakery so many times that I finally went in last week and ordered it. They even gave me 15% off because it was for my own birthday.
I'm not sure whether to feel grateful or insulted.
By the time I pull up to the bakery, I realize I've beat Olivia there. She's always a few minutes late.
I push open the door and step inside, instantly hit with the smell of fresh bread and sweet cakes. My mouth waters on instinct.
The older woman behind the counter smiles at me. Her crow's-feet reach all the way to her temples, like she's spent herwhole life laughing. What she lacks in youth, she makes up for in warmth.
"What can I get you today, hun?"
"Uh, I'm picking up an order for Raul Alvarez."
"Ah, the birthday cake!" she says, adjusting her glasses. "Let me go grab it for you."
I step farther into the bakery while the woman goes to get my cake, and the place immediately feels like a pocket of warmth tucked into the middle of the morning.
It's small, but every inch of it looks lived in with care. Glass display cases line the counter, each shelf crowded with glossy fruit tarts, powdered pastries, cookies stacked in neat rows, and cupcakes swirled with thick frosting in pastel colors. The walls are painted a soft buttery yellow, the kind that makes the whole room feel sunlit even without much natural light. There are little framed signs hanging above the cases with handwritten prices, and a chalkboard near the back listing the day's specials in careful looping script.
The air smells like sugar, butter, and yeast, with a hint of coffee drifting in from somewhere behind the counter. It's the kind of smell that makes you feel safe before you even realize it. A small table by the window holds a couple of wicker chairs, and there's a vase of fake sunflowers sitting in the center, bright enough to make the whole space feel cheerful.
The woman returns with a box tied neatly in twine and sets it on the counter.
"Here you go, birthday boy."
I thank her and am just reaching for it when the bell above the door jingles. I look up.
Olivia walks in carrying a bunch of balloons in one hand and a birthday bag in the other.
For a second, I forget how to breathe. I don't know how she always does this to me.
The balloons are ridiculous in the best way. Bright, floating over her head like she's somehow brought her own little celebration in with her. She's smiling, cheeks a little pink from the walk over, and the sight of her makes the whole bakery feel quieter somehow, like the world has narrowed down to the two of us and the soft rustle of paper bags.
Then I notice the birthday bag.
It's decorated with a cheap shiny pattern and stuffed so full it looks like something might spill out of it if she sets it down too fast.
She spots me near the counter and her face lights up.
"There he is," she says, making her way toward me. "Happy birthday."
My mouth goes dry.
"Hey," I manage.
She holds the balloons up a little higher with a grin. "I come bearing gifts."
"I see that! What the hell did you get up to?"
"Oh, you know… just a few small things!"