Page 35 of Spicy or Sweet (Wintermore #2)

NOELLE

Ismell winter in the air. It’s only mid-October, but Wintermore favors its namesake, and fall always feels like it’s gone in a flash.

Barely three weeks have passed since Shay and I came to the reservoir for our picnic, but the day couldn’t be more different: the sky is a cloudy, icy white, and it’s cold enough that I pulled a thick sweater from the bin of winter clothes I keep in my parents’ garage.

Though there are no structural issues with my apartment, Quinn recommended I give it a few days to air out before moving back in. He got a bunch of stuff out from a list I gave him and politely didn’t mention my strap-on wall art or my butt plug Christmas tree.

Wintermore isn’t the only thing that’s changed as the last of the leaves has fallen from the trees. I feel like a completely different person. Last year, opening the bakery changed me in ways I could never have predicted—I’ve been impatient, exhausted, uncompromising, and all around unhappy.

“They’ve lost their tinsel,” Mamaw Whitten used to say, instead of “lost their spark.”

And that’s exactly what I did. I lost my damn tinsel.

It’s been happening for longer than I realized, I think.

The longer I stayed at the toy store, doing a job I never signed up for, a job I never wanted.

I probably would have stuck it out longer if I hadn’t watched Rora make all of her dreams come true as a photographer last year; I was happy for her, but I was so jealous.

It was the jealousy that pushed me to say enough was enough.

I refused to resent Rora for living her dream, and I refused to let Felix hold me back from mine.

The bakery became available, and I told him plainly he could either step up or give up the toy store, but either way, I was leaving.

Of course, Rora was pretty miserable living her dream, jetting all over the world, when all she wanted was to be with my uncle Henry. And I was miserable by day three of owning the bakery.

Felix is thriving. Naturally.

“Can I ask you something?” I whispered to Rora so no one would overhear us yesterday, standing outside the burning bakery.

“Of course.”

“When you found out you were pregnant, and you knew you’d have to cut back on traveling—even though it’s what you’ve always wanted to do—were you…”

“Relieved? God, yes. Chasing your dreams isn’t a life sentence, Noelle. If you don’t like how it feels when you’re living it, you can change the dream.”

“But baking is all I’ve ever dreamed of.”

“So bake. My dreams changed when I met Henry, when I got pregnant. I still want to travel, but I want to do it with them. You can still bake without owning a bakery you’re not happy in.”

She made it sound so simple. But maybe it is. It’s hard to imagine who I could be without the dream I’ve been clinging to for the best part of thirty years, but wouldn’t it be fun to find out?

The thought of my life burning to the ground, of being forced to start from scratch, should be devastating.

But I’ve spent so long toiling over my feelings for the bakery—the resentment, the guilt, the disappointment.

Something about breathing in the smoke and watching the source of those feelings burn made everything so much clearer.

I look up as Shay drops a blanket around my shoulders and sits in the spot beside me.

“How did you get here before me when I drove?”

“Long legs,” I reply, passing her a cup from The Frosty Bean. I was ready before her this morning, so I decided to walk and pick up coffee on the way. Living in Wintermore, it’s easy to take the fresh mountain air for granted, but I’ve found myself wanting to spend more time outside since the fire.

“They’re good legs,” Shay says before sipping the peppermint mocha and sighing. She hums at the taste. “It’s like Christmas in a cup.” She squints up at the gray sky. “It’s starting to look like it, too. I swear it feels like if you blink, you miss fall here.”

“I was just thinking that. We probably have a week at most before the first wave of tourists rolls in.”

“Already? God. It sneaks up on me every year.”

“I used to count down the days,” I tell her, smiling. “As stressful as running the toy store at Christmas was, I thrived. I woke up every day excited to go to work. Don’t get me wrong, I was pissed as all hell at Felix because I wanted my bakery, but I was still happy.”

“Do you think you’ll go back now?”

Shay looks surprised when I shake my head.

“I don’t have a place there anymore. I’m sure I’ll help for a few days just before Christmas; everyone chips in then, but Felix has everything under control.

Or Abigail does, and he’s just doing as he’s told.

” It hurts less than I thought it would, realizing I’m not needed at The Enchanted Workshop right now.

There’s no Enchanted Bakery to need me anymore.

For the first time in a long time, I’m technically not needed.

I know I’ll grow tired of it, but it feels nice for now.

“How are you feeling about the bakery?” Shay asks. “Do you think you’re going to reopen?”

“I feel… relieved. And I feel guilty for feeling relieved, because I appreciate how much support everyone has given me, and I know people are losing their jobs, but I’m not happy.

So, no, I’m not reopening.” Saying it feels better than the first gulp of fresh air after getting out of the smoke.

It’s like the weight of the world just falls off my shoulders with three words: “I’m not reopening. ”

I know there’s more to it than just saying the words—I still own the building, and I have to figure out what I’m going to do with the charred remains of the bakery, but that’s a job for once we know what caused the fire, and once I know what my insurance is going to cover.

“I’m proud of you,” Shay says, winding her arms around me and kissing my temple.

“You don’t have to feel guilty, but I know that’s easier said than done.

You made something amazing with The Enchanted Bakery, but if you’re not happy, then it’s time to move on.

Do you know what you might want to do next? ”

“I want to bake,” I confirm. That’s the one thing I don’t have to wonder about.

“I wouldn’t even mind running the kitchen side of a bakery, I just don’t want to do it all, you know?

The café side, the admin, the people-ing.

I don’t know, I guess I’ll keep an eye on jobs in Jackson.

The commute isn’t ideal, but I’ll figure it out. ”

Shay hums, and, when I look her over, she looks nervous.

“What?” I ask.

“I have a suggestion. And you can say no—there’s no pressure either way.”

“Alright.”

She takes a deep breath. “I really liked working together on the movie. And, as far as I can tell, you did too.”

“I did.”

“Exactly. You want to bake more, and I want to interact with people more. We know we work well together, so… Why don’t we work together?”

I can’t hide the shock on my face. “You want me to come work at épices et Sucré?”

Shay sits up straight. “Yes. No. Kind of? I want to rebrand, and not just because no one in this town except Rora can actually pronounce the name correctly—you included, for the record.”

“Hey!”

“But also,” she continues, “it’s not the best fit for the town, anyway.

I don’t think we need to be entirely Christmas themed, but something a little cozier, you know?

And I understand if you just don’t want the responsibility of running a bakery full stop, but I thought maybe if we did it together—”

“Yes.”

The word slips out before I even have time to think about it. But I don’t need to think about it. It’s the perfect solution for both of us to be happy in Wintermore, and the perfect solution so we don’t have to miss working together. I can’t believe I didn’t even consider it.

Shay blinks. “Oh. I had a whole spiel prepared—I didn’t realize it would be so easy. Are you sure, mon délice?”

“I’m sure,” I say. “It didn’t occur to me that I didn’t have to give up my dream entirely—and I think I’d enjoy it a lot more if I was sharing it with you. No, I know I would. But are you sure you want to rebrand? épices et Sucré was you and Georgie’s thing.”

“That’s exactly why I need to rebrand. I made the patisserie that Georgie wanted to own one day. It was never what I wanted. I want to do something here in town to honor her. With Nico, maybe, if I can convince him to talk about her. But I don’t have to dedicate my life to honoring her.”

“You don’t,” I agree. “But being happy and living the life you want… I think she’d see that as honoring her memory, even if it’s not exactly what you talked about when you were younger.

You’re a good sister, sweetheart. Whatever happens after all of this, wherever she is, I bet she’s so proud of you. ”

She drags in a ragged breath, her eyes watery, and squeezes my hand. “I wish she’d gotten to meet you.”

“Me too,” I say, wiping a tear as it spills down her cheek. “While we’re already emotional, I wasn’t entirely honest with you the other day.”

“Oh?”

“When I said I thought I was falling for you,” I explain, my heart racing.

“I know it’s way too soon, but we could’ve died yesterday, so I’m not going to wait until it’s more socially acceptable.

Sweetheart, I’ve been crazy about you since that first kiss.

I love you.” Another three words I’ve been desperate to say; another relief as I finally put them out into the universe, as I watch them sink into Shay.

“Noelle,” she breathes, her tears falling hard and fast now. “I love you, too. So much.”

“And to be clear—not casually, right? Not just friends?” I joke, my voice watery.

Shay clasps my face, laughing as I dry her face with the corner of my blanket. “I think, actually, you might just be my best friend. But there’s nothing casual about how much I love you—I’m going to keep you forever, if you’ll let me.”

Forever sounds pretty damn sweet to me.