Over the last three months, I’ve been getting close to London and Paris. Our relationship is more personal than professional. They both are mother hens, trying to give me advice on life and men. But Paris is a lot easier to talk to than London. London is a little mean, but I don’t think she realizes that she is.

“Then why doesn’t it feel that way?” I want to bawl my eyes out.

“Because love is hard, Gia.” She exhales. “So hard. My Phillip was an alcoholic. But back then alcoholism was viewed as the norm, especially in the early sixties and seventies.” She pauses. “He died from cirrhosis of the liver at thirty-five. Had I let him go and made him realize he was destroying himself, he probably would be alive today. It isn’t easy to let someone go. It’s one of the most selfless acts a person can do. And if Gunner doesn’t come back to you, then you move on. You will find someone who deserves you.”

I try to let her words sink in, but I just feel so heartbroken. I spent the last three months in limbo, wondering if I did the right thing. Beating myself up about the decision I’ve made. London comes from the back with a clipboard in her hands.

“We have some news to discuss with you.” She pulls up a barstool blocking the doorway connected to the kitchen.

“We would like to sell you this place,” London says. My eyes grow wide in shock, and I stare at her like she told me I hit the lottery. “Paris and I always wanted to buy an RV and travel the country together.”

“But we never got the chance to because we both ended up having a family and now that our kids are grown and have their own families the time is perfect,” Paris says, squealing like a teenager.

“How much is it? I don’t have any money.” I’m still paying my student loans. Gunner wanted to pay it off before we broke up, but I told him it was my debt, and I can’t depend on him to bail me out of stuff.

“We have an investor, and he already paid.”

“What’s his name?” Surprise flickers through me as I cock an eyebrow.

“I can’t tell you. He wants to be anonymous and won’t have any power. It’s in the contract we drew up,” London says.

“No, I can’t take it.”

“Darling, don’t be stupid.”

“London, be nice.” Paris turns toward me. “I understand this is surreal to you, but the main reason why we hired you was because we wanted you to take this shop off our hands. We want to leave it to someone who has a heart for baking. When you bake, your eyes shine brighter than the stars, sweetie. So please, just take it.”