Mr & Mrs Fake

Chapter Four

Jade

I head to Delicious Delight to get the bakery ready for the day. I pull up the blinds and start on today's treats. I grab my industrial mixer and the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies. After washing my hands and putting on a hairnet and bonnet, I mix up the dough, put it on a baking sheet, and pop it in the oven. Then it's on to the next item.

I bake a fresh batch of goodies every day, which is why I've started looking for extra help. My timer goes off, signaling the start of my first interview. I wash my hands again and greet the girl with a smile. "Hi! How's it going?" I shake her hand and ask, "You're Aria, right?"

After a few quick questions, I think she'll be a great fit. "You seem perfect for the job. We can get you started this week. Just need two forms of ID," I tell her. By the time I finish the interviews, I've hired two people, and it's almost time to open. I head back to the kitchen to wrap things up.

"Hello?" I hear from the lobby. "Are you open?" If the sign isn't on and the door's locked, what makes you think I'm open? I walk out of the kitchen. "We're not open until ten-thirty," I say, spotting the guy from earlier this week. He's seriously handsome—a face I won't forget. And that tall frame and dark grey suit? He's clearly spent time in the gym, and I appreciate the view. "Um, what are you doing here?" I ask, snapping back to reality.

"Well, I was hoping you might have some Danishes left from Monday?" he says, scratching his head. I reply, "I'm not open yet."

"Oh, my bad. I saw someone leaving and thought I'd give it a shot," he says. "I bake everything fresh each day, so even if there are leftovers, I usually take them home or give them away," I explain. "Hold on a sec," I say as I head back to the kitchen to check the cookies.

I pull the cookies from the oven, put a few in a to-go box, and bring it to him. "They're not Danishes, but they're just as good."

"Thanks! How much do I owe you?" he asks.

"Don't worry about it. It's on the house this time," I say. "I'll head out then. Thanks again," he says, waving as he leaves. I start to go back to the kitchen but stop when the bell chimes again. "I'm not op—oh, it's you again."

"Would you like to go on a date with me?" he asks, catching me off guard.

"I don't even know you," I laugh.

"It's the perfect chance to get to know me. I'm Theodore, but everyone calls me Theo. I'd really like to take you out," he says with bold confidence. I have to admit, it's pretty daring, and I like it.

"Sure," I smile. "Nice to meet you, Theo. I'm Jade. When?"

"Tonight. I'll pick you up here at seven-thirty," he says.

"Um, no. You might be a kidnapper or something. Let's just exchange numbers and you can tell me where to meet you," I suggest. Theo laughs.

"Okay, fair enough," he says, and we swap numbers. "See you tonight, Jade."

I do a little happy dance after he leaves and look around to make sure no one saw me. I finish baking and open the shop. While waiting for customers, I review my plan for a new store. My business has taken off better than I expected, and I really need help. After just eight months, juggling in-shop customers, DoorDash, and catering is a lot. I don't know how Love Quinn ran a whole bakery while being a mom and a stalker. Just running this place alone is kicking my ass.

I'm meeting my banker to talk about opening a new spot downtown. I've found the perfect location but want to buy the property instead of renting. It feels amazing to see my dreams coming true. I worked my butt off, like Tiana from Princess and the Frog, juggling two jobs while studying business management. It was tough, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. Owning my business is even better than I imagined.

After a busy day, I clean up the shop, empty the cash register, and head to the bank. I deposit the money into my business account and sit down with my accountant, Synclair.

"So, remind me why we're here," Synclair asks.

"I'm ready to open another location downtown. I found the perfect place and need help with the financial details," I explain.

"A beautiful black entrepreneur—love it," Synclair beams. "Have you met with a realtor and the seller?"

"Yes. The seller wants seventy-eight thousand, but the realtor thinks we can get him down to about seventy-four thousand," I say.

"Great. How much do you have saved?" Synclair asks.

"About fifty-five thousand. I don't want to use all my savings, just in case," I reply.

"Got it. Are you okay with putting down thirty thousand?" she asks. I nod. "Should we see if we can get you a loan?"

"I do want to, but—" I hesitate, then nod. "Forget the buts. Yes, let's go for it."

"Okay, so the process is simple. We'll check your credit to make sure you're not a high risk. I'll need your social, license, and check stubs." I hand over the documents.

"This shouldn't take too long. Just hang tight," Synclair says reassuringly. I nervously drum my fingers on my leg. After what feels like ages, Synclair turns to me. "I've got good news and bad news. You're approved."

I look at her anxiously. "What's the bad news?"

"The bank will approve you for a maximum of thirty-two thousand. So, if the realtor can negotiate the price, you'll still need ten thousand more," Synclair explains.

"Damn it! Where am I supposed to come up with ten thousand?" I ask, frustrated.

"Take some time to think it over. When you're ready, come back and we'll figure it out. I'm sorry there's not more I can do," Synclair says sympathetically.

"It's okay. Thanks," I say, feeling defeated. I gather my things and head home.