“So we’ve moved from the total shock to the anger portion of the getting fucked over by the boyfriend program, huh?” she deadpans.

I laugh. It’s the first time I actually have and meant it in the past few days. “Definitely wallowing in the anger portion. But thanks. I can always count on you to lighten my mood.”

Another group of girls push their way through the crowd and meet the giggling trio in the corner. I glance their way and then back to Josie. She lifts her eyebrows and shrugs. Business is business even if it is a giggling bunch of teenagers who might split one drink four ways because they’re broke.

“At least you have a thousand cookies to keep you busy. You can put on a true crime documentary and fantasize about it being Paul while you shape and mold and decorate them all.”

I hang my head and smile as I rock my head from side to side. “Nah. He’s not worth my time.” I look back up and meet the kindness in her eyes. “I think it’s being blindsided that hurts the most. Like here I was living in my own, completely perfect world—I had my bakery, my boyfriend, my future—all of it mapped out, and in one afternoon, one early arrival home, and poof, it’s all gone or in jeopardy of being gone.”

Josie reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. “It doesn’t help and won’t make you feel better, but maybe in time, you’ll see it was for the best.”

I smile but fight back the tears, the ones that feel like a constant ball in my throat that I refuse to let fall, and nod.

“And if not, then we just say what we’ve been saying.”

“Fuck you, Paul,” we say in unison followed by laughter.

“I have to get back to work, but I’m here, any time. You know that.”

“I do. Thanks, Josie.”

I watch her walk off and then allow myself to savor the first sip of my iced coffee. I’m tired and the kick of caffeine is welcome as I open my design folder. I shuffle through sketch after sketch of icing designs for the cookie tops. It sounds ridiculous to have a portfolio for my cookies, but then again, being original isn’t exactly the easiest in this town of dreamers and artists.

With a sigh, I turn the page on my sketches. Only in Hollywood does a famous couple hire you to design and provide one thousand cookies for their dog’s birthday party, but who am I to judge? A paycheck is a paycheck no matter how strange the work is.

A design idea strikes me and when I look down to my purse to grab my colored pencil kit, a voice nearby says, “Excuse me, miss?”