Nolan

The smell of fresh pastries envelops me the moment I push open the door to Get Baked. The bell chimes above my head, announcing my arrival to the handful of patrons already seated with their morning coffees and treats. I scan the line, five people deep, and contemplate whether I should try my luck cutting to the front. My stomach growls in protest of waiting, having skipped breakfast so I could get out the door and grab a workout with Weston.

"Don't even ...