It had been a week since the cake incident — the "prehistoric dessert disaster," as Mateo called it — and somehow, life had found its easy rhythm again.
The bakery smelled of vanilla and roasted coffee, the air warm with late afternoon light. I was finishing the last of the frosting on a batch of strawberry cupcakes when a gentle chime pulsed from my wrist.
I glanced down. The sleek smartwatch on my wrist blinked in soft blue.
"Time's up," I murmured, wiping my hands on my apron.
Pedro looked up from his office doorway. "Time's up for what?"
"My reminder," I said, tapping the screen. "I told you — Aria and I have that thing today."
"I don't think he knows what you mean. That's how old people are," Mateo said, grinning. "They forget things easily. They could even forget they were supposed to take a dump."
Pedro's head snapped toward him. "Mateo."
"Yes, boss?"
"Do you still want to keep your job?"
