Lance
Years Later

“I have the truck loaded,” I tell Aurora. 

“Give me just one minute,” she says, pipping frosting onto the last of the cupcakes. 

Years ago, when she started Take Me Away, Sweet Treats, Aurora was just making simple pastries and an occasional wedding cake, but after a Chatter influencer posted about her food truck, business exploded, and life has been crazy ever since. 

Our toddler, Dottie the Second, as we call her, squeals with delight when Aurora pipes a little frosting onto her nose. 

“Daddy, Daddy! I’m the frosting monster!” she growls, making her hands into little claws. 

“Oh, no!” I reach down and swoop her into my arms. “It looks like the only way to defeat the frosting monster is to eat it!” I playfully chomp on her frosted nose. She giggles, pushing me away. 

“All right, time to roll,” Aurora says, grabbing her bag. 

I bring the last of the cupcakes to the truck and secure Dottie in her seat. 

About a year ago, a food critic wrote a hit piece on Aurora because she never went to culinary school. Angered by his elitist arrogance, an epic ton of celebrities descended on Hollis to sample her baked goods. She was already doing so well, having received so much success in the social media world, and the new demand forced her to expand. 

She turned her parents’ house into a bakery, but she still delivers to several diners and restaurants, including Dottie’s. She also does the occasional event in her food truck, but her rates are through the roof. 

“I hope the audience likes the cupcakes I made,” Aurora says. 

“Are you kidding? They’re going to love them.”

“The competition is going to be stiff. Richard Two-Cakes is going to be there.”

After Aurora’s latest success, a few pastry chefs started smack-talking in good fun, and they proposed a competition to be held at none other than Dottie’s. Aurora accepted and said some smack talk of her own, and now the day has finally come for her to make good on her words. It’s being filmed for television, and the proceeds will go to a charity supporting victims of domestic violence. 

“You got this,” I reassure her, patting her leg. 

We pull into Dottie’s and find a crowd already gathered outside. 

“I’ll bring the food in. You take Little Dottie,” I tell her. 

Brock and Liam help us to the front door, where there is a smaller crowd waiting inside. 

Aurora greets guests, handing out pre-made cupcakes. Sure enough, Richard Two-Cakes is there, talking smack about the competition, which also includes Johnny Riley, Penrose Johansen, and Dominik Franque. 

I join our friends in the corner of the diner. Little Dottie is delighted to hang out with Little Liam. 

“Where is my grandbaby?” Dottie Senior comes over. Since we have no other family, she’s taken over the role of grandparent. 

Little Dottie squeals and wraps her arms around her namesake. 

Liam leans forward and whispers into my ear. “Hey, I thought you should know that Brandon made a post about the competition, talking about how proud he was of his little sister.”

I nod, annoyed, but glad he’s moved away and isn’t in our lives. 

“Okay, listen up!” Dottie Senior calls through the diner. The crowd quiets and gives her their attention. “Here are the rules—”

I watch Aurora as she listens, hoping she can feel the love radiating from our corner of the diner.

When the whistle blows, she rushes to get ingredients, and for the next four hours, she faces challenge after challenge, winning some, and coming in second for others. 

In the end, it’s her and Ricky Two-Cakes that are in the lead, facing one last challenge: making a croissant. 

Typically, they can take days to make, but they manage to whip up their final pastry in just under two hours, Ricky making his with a pistachio paste and cream, and Aurora making a pomegranate-flavored croissant with an orange frosting. 

In the end, Dottie refuses to be a judge for the final match, and others from the crowd step in, naming Aurora the champion.

After breaking down in tears, Aurora graciously accepts the honor, giving a bow. 

Two hours later, we’re still at Dottie’s with only our friends still around, helping to clean up after the competition.

“I’ve gained ten pounds thanks to you!” Bailey hisses at Aurora. 

Aurora rolls her eyes. “Oh, cry me a river.”

Dottie sets out trays full of French fries. “Dig in.”

Over the years, it’s gotten harder to come together, and we stay at the diner long after the sun sets, and it’s well past midnight, talking, communing, sharing pieces of our lives with who we consider family.

Because while Aurora and I might not have much family in terms of blood, our found family is the best there’s ever been.

The End

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