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"He offered to cover the deposit on the shop. He loves you and wants to help. Plus he should be swimming in it with the Blue Devil contract, right? Let him."

"He’s finally getting regular NHL minutes, Ellie. He’s still seeing his physical therapist three times a week. He has enough going on."

"He can play hockey, answer his phone, and write a big fat check for his sister. He probably wouldn’t even miss the money."

I pick up my coffee and take a sip while I consider it, but I just can’t. I need to prove to myself that I can keep this business running. I didn’t walk away from my job and a four-year degree that my parents paid for in Boston just to call my brother every time a bill comes in.

"I don’t want to ask him for money."

"Even if it gets you into the shop sooner?"

I look at her. Of course I want the shop sooner. I’ve walked past it enough times to know which window I’d put the display case behind. I have a folder on my phone full of ovens and refrigerators I can’t afford yet. Calling Beau would be the easiest part. Accepting the money would be harder.

"It still won't give me a kitchen tomorrow," I say. "I’d have to contact the owner, sign the lease, get the keys. I don’t even know when I could move in. Then there’s the equipment and getting the space ready for my business. I can’t show up with a deposit and start baking."

"No," she agrees. "But you could get the process moving."

"You’re right, I know."

I lower my cappuccino. She lets me have a minute without suggesting we call him from her desk.

"I’ll figure out the shop," I say. "Right now, I need to figure out this week."

"You can bake here. In the evenings when the café is closed."

"You’re already running a night shift to keep up with the cinnamon roll orders. Your catering crew needs the kitchen too. You’d have to give up space or oven time, and I can’t ask you to do that."

Her lips twist as she ponders a way to make it work. We both saw the orders lined up out there. There’s no way around it. I’d be in the way.

"Wolf offered his kitchen," I tell her.

Her eyebrows rise. "He did?"

"Yes. I saw it when I went up to tell them to shut off the music. It’s bigger than mine, but…"

"But what? That sounds like a great option. It’s still in your building. What’s with the face you’re giving me?"

"I loathe the guy… remember? For the last six years, he’s been enemy number one on the family list. Now what? I’m supposed to be friendly with him? Bake cupcakes in his kitchen like… like…" I can’t find a comparison that doesn’t make this sound worse.

"Like you're sleeping together?" Ellie teases.

"Hell no! I would never consider that," I blurt out. "He’s the last man on earth that I would sleep with."

"Come on… surely he’s not the last. There are some real trolls out there. Remember that douche bag last week that was walking his Great Dane and didn’t pick up the droppings on the sidewalk? I vote for him as the last man on earth." She settles back in her chair with her cup.

"You’re going to hate me for this, but I would still probably pick the dog poop guy over the guy who tried to end my brother’s career."

"End his career? Isn’t that a little dramatic? I was there… remember?"

I take a deep breath and stare back at her delivery logistics map behind her. Route and trucks all laid out for tomorrow morning deliveries.

"Fine. Sleep with the dog poop guys. At least you’d get laid in this century."

I open my mouth to object, but I have no comeback. It’s been a while.

"Want my advice?" she asks.

"No, not really."