“Have you thought anymore about opening up a storefront bakery?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
“No,” I say, avoiding eye contact with him.
He’s been wanting me to open up my own bakery since I started doing this full time. It terrified me enough to quit my stable corporate job to do something I had no idea what would come of it. It’s been doing better than I expected, but making another big move terrifies me. I know that’s what businesses need to do to grow, but it’s still scary. Especially when I sometimes feel I have no support from Zay.
He chuckles, setting his glass down. “You’ll do fine with it.”
I have to admit, part of me thinks he wants me to open up a storefront so our house isn’t a mess with all the baking I do. I glance over at him and give him a slight smile. Part of the reason I bought this house was for us to have more room. My business was growing, and we were growing out of the apartment we were living in. Not to mention, I was sick of sharing walls and listening to everyone else’s living. He should be happy with how much more room we have now.
One day I went searching around for a single-family home, not expecting to find anything. This one popped up. I fell in love with the layout the moment I saw it and immediately called to go look at it. It’s a three-bedroom house, with a lot of upgrades, the kitchen was perfect for what I needed. It’s very open, with a huge island that has cabinets all around it. The previous owners put in two ovens instead of one when they built it, which was a godsend for my baking, because I’m able to bake so much more. And the fridge is bigger than the standard-size fridge. There isalso an office right next to the kitchen that I’m able to use for my extra supplies. Even that one little room helped a lot because in our old apartment, everything was stored out in the open. I also put a fridge in our garage for more storage. Everything aligned and fell into place. It was perfect, and I couldn’t not put an offer in. But Zayn was not on board. He’s never been one to want to purchase a home. He thinks it’s a waste of money since we will never outright own it. So I bought the house and kept his name off of everything. We split the mortgage because that was the only way I was going to afford it, even though somehow the bank approved me.
“What’s holding you back?” he asks.
“What’s wrong with continuing my business in our home? It’s not like customers come to the house,” I say, shaking my head. That is one thing I did not want. I don’t allow customers at my home. With everything going on nowadays, I get worried I might get an upset customer that comes back to harm me. You just never know, so I’ve always been strict about that. Even though it’s a pain at times, I deliver everyone’s orders. I understand why it would be a great idea to have my own bakery, but I just haven’t had the guts to make the move yet.
He hesitates for a second before leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I just don’t think business should be conducted in a private home.”
And there it is…
He doesn’t like me baking from home. I thought before it was because of how crowded our apartment would get. But now—I actually don’t know why now it bothers him.
“Why does it bother you?” I ask, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms.
Our waitress comes back with our food. “Let’s drop it,” he says as the waitress places our plates down.
Good idea. I’m too worn out for this conversation.
Rya: What are you and Zayn doing today?
Violet: Nothing yet. Drinking our coffee out on the deck.
Rya: Wait!
Rya: You’re not baking?
Violet: No. I caught everything up yesterday.
Rya: What! For once, you’re not baking on a Saturday. Let’s do something.
Violet: I busted my ass off all week since I was trying to catch up from Vegas. I was worried I wasn’t going to finish in time.
Rya: Me and Ez are coming over.
Violet: Thumps up emoji.
I’m surprised she’s even awake. It’s only nine in the morning. Zay and I crashed after our dinner last night and woke up earlyto enjoy coffee out on our deck. I love slow mornings. We usually never get these.
Especially together.
Or on weekends.
It’s rare for me to not be up early on a Saturday baking away.
I set my phone down. “Rya and Ezra are coming over” I say to Zay, who is enjoying my cinnamon rolls.
I lean my head against the chair and lift my legs up onto our round electric outdoor firepit. “For someone who hates me baking in our home, you sure enjoy the hell out of the baked goods,” I say, chuckling.
He stops mid-bite and rolls his eyes at me. “I never said I hated it. I just think it would be better to bake in a bakery, not in a home.”
