The Second Chance Year

I give Xavier my most magnanimous smile. “I’m just trying to do my part for the good of the restaurant, sir.”

“It’s appreciated.”

“Well, I appreciate your… appreciation.”

“Now.” He shuffles some papers around on his desk. “I’d like to get to the point of why I called you in here.”

Yes. Please get to the point.

I rub my sweaty palms on my pants.

Xavier holds up a paper that looks to be a letter of some kind. “This is from Dennis Petrucci.” Xavier’s current executive pastry chef. “It details Dennis’s plans to end his tenure at Xavier’s starting in the New Year.”

Rumors have been flying that Dennis is considering job offers. But nobody has been able to verify that until now. I’m not about to blow this moment with my nervous babble, so I nod silently.

Xavier lowers the letter to the table and looks across the room at me. “I won’t be making any announcements about the hiring of a new executive pastry chef until we tell the staff about Dennis’s departure in a couple of months. But I wanted to let you know that I have my eye on you for the position.”

I sit there frozen on the couch. Is this really happening? Have the long hours and hard work and caving to Xavier’s ridiculous demands finally paid off?

“Thank you, sir,” I manage to choke out. “I’m very interested in this opportunity, and I’m willing to do everything in my power to elevate Xavier’s dessert offerings to the highest level.”

Xavier nods. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Absolutely.”

“All right.” Xavier goes back to shuffling papers. “That will be all.”

I hurry out of his office and back into the kitchen, dying to tell someone about this, but Xavier made it clear that he wants to make the announcement in his own time. So I go back to icing my cupcakes, more determined than ever to make sure they’re absolutely perfect. And if I have a huge grin on my face for the rest of my shift, well, I just can’t help it.

On my walk home that evening, some of my joy dissipates. This promotion is the sort of thing that, in the past, I would have shared with Kasumi. And I would have talked to her about breaking up with Alex, and the mess I made with Jacob, too. But of course, I can’t, because she’s not speaking to me.

I pull out my phone and open it to Kasumi’s Instagram page. I’m relieved to see that she seems to be doing much better than I was after being fired from Xavier’s. She posts beautifully curated collections of photos promoting parties and events all over the city, and when I zoom in on her face, she seems really happy.

On impulse, I send her a message. Hey, I just wanted to let you know I’m thinking of you. I miss you.

I stop on the sidewalk to stare at the screen. Kasumi is constantly on social media, so maybe she’ll see my message right away. Maybe she’ll even respond. But a minute goes by, and then another one, and… nothing. I switch back to her Instagram profile, and just like I thought, she is online because at that moment, a photo pops up in her feed. It’s a selfie of Kasumi grinning at the camera with Sonya and Marianne, the servers we used to be friends with at Xavier’s, the ones who hated working with me in the front of the house. I’m not sure her message could be clearer.

Heart heavy, I sink down on the front step of a random apartment building.

Kasumi isn’t going to give me a second chance. I blew it.

Since I’m already on Instagram, and I have no reason to hurry home, I switch over to Alex’s profile. When I wasn’t crying over sitcoms or eating chocolate chips straight out of the bag during my Very Bad Year, I was creeping on Alex’s social media feeds. It was about this time that the blond woman showed up, the one I’m pretty sure he started dating after he broke up with me.

But this time around, I broke up with Alex, and instead of a blond woman, his Instagram feed is full of photos of expensive cocktails and the guys from work hanging out at their usual bar. He must not be dating her. If I scroll back farther, there are dozens of images from when we were together. I don’t want to look, but my gaze is drawn there anyway. I focus on a photo of Alex holding two of my homemade strawberry rhubarb doughnuts up to his eyes like glasses.

I donut know what I’d do without you.

He’s been calling me, wanting to talk, and there are times I badly want to pick up the phone. But the person I want to find on the other end is the Alex who would take silly photos with baked goods to make me laugh. The Alex who believed in my career and not just his own.

It took me two times around this same year to realize it, but Alex isn’t that guy anymore.

Feeling more alone than I have in a long time, I haul myself off the stoop and keep walking. What if I called Owen to spill everything? Not about my second chance year, because my brother would definitely wonder if I’d fallen headfirst into a pot of dulce de leche when I started going on about wishes and fortune tellers. But I could talk to him about all the other stuff… Alex, and Xavier, and Jacob.

My shoulders slump. I can’t talk to him about Jacob. I can’t tell him his best friend tossed me aside like a fallen soufflé. Aside from the sheer humiliation I’d suffer, I do love my brother and wouldn’t want to harm his friendship with Jacob. And I shouldn’t break the news about the promotion at Xavier’s until it’s official, either.

As I approach Higher Grounds, the café glows from the pendant lamps hanging above each table, and their warmth spills out the picture window and onto the sidewalk. I peer in to see who’s working tonight. José Luis stands behind the counter, smiling as he places a cup and saucer in front of a customer whose back is to me. I’m about to pull the door open when I realize I’ve seen that back before. It was in my apartment, and the man attached to it abruptly decided he wanted nothing to do with me.

It never occurred to me that our ill-advised make-out session would result in a joint custody arrangement, but apparently it has. Jacob quit stopping by Higher Grounds on the days I make pastries there, and I’m slowly backing away from the door now that he’s inside.

It’s fine. Everything is fine. I’ll go home and celebrate my impending promotion with popcorn, Netflix rom-coms, and my cat.

There’s nothing sad about that at all.





Chapter 24


It’s not my usual day to bake at Higher Grounds, but Zoe texted to see if I’d come in and make another special order. We’ve been getting more customers who try my pastries at the café and then ask if they can place large orders for more. I’m a sucker for anyone who loves my baking, so I haven’t been able to say no. But it means that I’m spending my days running back and forth between Higher Grounds and Xavier’s, and when I finally fall into bed at night, I dream of pastry flour and confectioners’ sugar.

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