“You’re Just a Baker,” My Sister Screamed—The Next Time They Heard My Name, It Was on a Tokyo Flagship

tone she used when she was about to deliver bad news dressed as reason. “About you coming tonight.”

My hand froze halfway to the pain au chocolat. Behind me, Marcus shouted, “Chef, we need two more pistachio eclairs!” and I responded automatically—”On it!”—even as ice water seemed to replace the blood in my veins.

“What about me coming?” I asked slowly.continue reading …