Started as His Girlfriend (Sequel to "Started as His Tutor")

Six Years Later

I take a deep breath, looking at the scissors in my hand. Everyone cheers as I snip the ribbon ties across the handles of the glass doors. I push them open and let my guests in, quickly rushing behind the counter to start taking orders.

Everyone disperses around, picking various packaged pastries from woven baskets set on wooden shelves. As they line up, they order additional sweets from the glass display, which Wren helps me serve.

The perimeter of the bakery has a long table attached to the wall with white swiveling bar stools In the center are square tables with shorter, light green chairs. The walls are decorated with chalk boards that guests can write notes on and white Christmas lights. The ceiling has hung cut-outs of the turtle logo. One the tables are various knick-knacks of turtle centerpieces with some succulents. It's minimalistic, but quite cozy. Though, my obsession with turtles are quite obvious since guests at the checkout are met with framed pictures of Charlotte and Wilbur.

I didn't hire any staff yet, since I didn't expect so many customers so early in the opening. However, Greg ended up advertising the shop to his fans as an apology for not being able to make the grand opening. Being so swamped, I'm forced to man the cash register while serving drinks.

"Hi, I can help who's next," I call out. 

A woman walks up with a largest, floppiest beach hat I've ever seen that's it's pretty much an umbrella. She slides the bag of mini chocolate chip cookies across the counter and a twenty dollar bill. Her head tilts up slightly as she does so, revealing a pair of sunglasses and red lips. 

"Thank you. And this is your fifteen dollars and seventy-six cents in change," I smile, holding out the change. "Would you like a bag for your cookies?"

She doesn't respond or take her change. 

"Here's your change," I repeat, holding out the money. 

"For goodness sake you can't even recognize me anymore?" she guffaws, yanking her sunglasses off. 

"Ms. Ann? W-what-"

"You haven't even visited me once," she glares. 

I'm speechless and can't say anything else. Mainly because of the thick, red lipstick Ms. Ann has on. I haven't seen Ms. Ann wear anything except melt ice cream and sprinkles. 

"You can keep the change. I'm loaded now," she beams, holding out a plane ticket. I take it and see it's to Los Angeles. "My flight's in two hours."

"Oh, you must be visiting for the beaches," I smile, her giant sun hat making more sense now. 

"Nope. I'm going to see hunky boy."

"Greg?"

"Yep."

"Does he know you're coming?"

"Nope."

"I don't know how you're going to see him then."

"He's famous. I'll just ask people around there. They'll know his address."

"But, they don't-"

"Anyways, I just stopped by to support you. I'm real proud of you Wendy. You always had the business woman spirit in you!" 

"Thanks," I shyly smile. 

"Well, since you're not going to see hunky, I'll go." 

"Have fun I guess," I say as I hand her the cookies. "Do you at least want Greg's number?"

"No, don't worry about me," she rejects, happily dragging her suitcase behind her.

 After Ms. Ann walk out, I quickly text Greg.