DEMETRIA

“I’m late! Sorry!” I blurted as I rushed through the bakery doors, the smell of fresh pastries and vanilla hitting me instantly. My heels clicked against the tiled floor as I practically jogged toward my office.

Amanda darted out from behind the counter, clutching her clipboard, and hurried after me. “You’re telling me. Customers have been asking if you were on vacation again.”

I groaned, pushing my office door open and tossing my bag onto the chair. “Great. Now I look ...