Reece stared at the small store in front of us, which looked like it belonged to a farm. I didn't have to comment. His face said it all.
"Is this it?" he asked. The uncertainty in his voice made its presence known.
"Yep. It says Pastry Emporium right across the sign. Old Town Pastry Emporium, to be exact," I answered. Just to be sure myself, I reread her journal entry.
Happy birthday, Diana! You've officially reached the age of 54! Well, in this year, you have. At least you know how old you'll be the next year, and so on. This is one of the most important days you should remember in your life. After all, it's your birthday. And it only gets better. Take notes, because you're going to want to know this in the future. Two words: Pastry Emporium. Yep, that's right. Once again, I ordered another cake from that bakery. It's further than most bakeries, and you're probably wondering, why didn't I just order from somewhere closer? But you'll come to understand after you've tried one of their delicious treats for yourself. In case you do want to try it out for yourself, I'll have the address written in the back of this journal with the rest of them. Each address marks an important point. Don't forget that. Anyways, Pastry Emporium also happens to be one of the very first places our father took us when we were a little girl. He said he met our mother there, then took her there for their first date, where they then ordered their wedding cake years later when the time came. Pastries made everything better when times were rough. He said those words to us . . . no one else but him. Make sure you cherish them properly, because he's something we can never get back. Especially since he died of lung cancer on our 16th birthday. Now, it's up to you to carry on his tradition. It always has been.
I shivered at the last section of her journal entry. That part always got to me. It made me think of the worst, which is what I intended not to do.
"Okay, just making sure," he replied. I could see the questions still sitting all over his face. I was asking them too. You would have missed the store if you didn't look close enough. It appeared nothing similar to a bakery at first, second, or third glance. If anything, the outside resembled a very old town's store. Specifically, one where you'd go to purchase glasses of milk and other dairy products, shipped straight from a dairy farm. It could even pass as someone's house. Nothing up to date at all.
"We might as well go inside," I said. He nodded and slipped his hand over the door handle, twisting slightly. The door opened as soon as his pushed it in. And as the door opened, there was a small ding sound of a bell to fill in the silence.
"Holy shit," I muttered under my breath. Reece sent me a side-glance, a smirk taunting his lips. He knew exactly what I was referring to.
"You smell it too?"
"Hell, I could smell that from outside. It smells so good—even stronger when you step in the store." I breathed in as much as I could. The smell of fresh bread, honeysuckle, and sweetness hit my nose before I could walk through the entrance. I was sure drool was dripping down the side of my lip by now, with my mouth watering like this. To add onto the satisfaction, a large case of baked goods sat underneath a counter, encased in shelves. One end of the shelves held muffins and bagels, while the other end was decorated in croissants. There was another case to our right and our left, filled with sweets. From cookies, to small cakes, and scones, there were too many sweets to count.
I gaped around in amazement. Whoever owned this bakery sure knew how to please the eye of the customer. A beautiful teal paint coated the walls, along with a few paintings and colorful menus to do the bakery leisure. Let's not forget the mini strictly white tables separated into their own corner of the store, creating a walkway down the middle, to the counter.
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Follow Me Home ✓Teen Fiction
Hope Cohen has always been one for adventure, no matter the distance. But her time of adventuring comes to an end when Reece Hilton is suddenly no longer referred to as her best friend; just the boy next door. Now, three years later, only cold night...