Page 79 of Falling Like Leaves
“I know. It’s my favorite,” Cooper says. “Oreo Creamsicle.”
I’m not sure if knowing it’s Cooper’s favorite makes it taste even better, but I’m almost speechless when I take my first bite.
“Oh my god,” I say through a mouthful of the dessert. “Cooper, this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.” I take another bite, the sweet, velvety dough practically melting on my tongue.
“The sexiest food ever?” He laughs.
“Yes, exactly!”
He nods, his dimple sinking into his cheek as he smiles shyly at me. “I baked it.”
I stop chewing. “What?”
“All the cookies—well, all the pastries—at the Caffeinated Cat. I bake them.”
I stare at him. Then at the cookie in my hand. Then back at him. “Are you serious?”
He laughs. “You shouldn’t be so surprised. I’m pretty sure you knew me at my nerdiest stage when all I talked about was baking.”
“Well, yeah, that’s true,” I say. He really was obsessed. “But baking as a hobby is different than baking for actual customers!”
I think back on this past month—all the times I ordered a cookie from him at the shop, or all the times he’s brought me one, or the times I’ve gushed about them in front of him.
“Why haven’t you mentioned it before now?” I ask.
“I guess I liked seeing your candid reactions. I liked that someone liked them so much without knowing I made them.” He shrugs one shoulder. “And I liked knowing you weren’t saying it just to be nice.”
“Trust me, no one is giving you compliments on these cookies just to be nice.”
Cooper blushes in the firelight. “Thanks.”
“This explains so much.” Like him being in awe of Fern. And Sloane calling himlittle baker boy.“I can’t believe Sloane never told me. What a brat.”
He laughs. “She probably assumed you knew. Everyone here knows. I can’t believe you’ve gone this long without figuring it out.”
“Apparently, I’m not that observant.” I turn to him. “It’s really cool you continued baking as you got older,” I say, wondering what it’d be like to take a passion seriously enough to become as good as Cooper is at baking.
To have the time to dedicate to becoming that good.
“I love it,” he says, simply. “My plan is to hopefully go to ICE after high school.”
I stare at him. “… ICE?”
“Yeah, the Institute of Culinary Education. You know, in New York City. I’d love to open my own bakery one day.”
“Oh. Wow.” A thousand thoughts filter through my mind, the first being:Cooper is planning on moving to New York City—mycity.And second: “So, you’re planning on baking, like, as a career…?”
“Yeah…?” He tilts his head. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“No. Baking just seems more like a hobby, you know? Not a realistic career path.”
“Tell that to Baked by Melissa,” he says, turning away from me and staring back at the fire.
“Well, sure, of coursesomepeople are going to get lucky. But there’s no guarantee that you’ll be one of the few to succeed. Did you know that most small businesses fail within their first five years?”
He shakes his head and fixes his eyes on me again. “Look, all I know is I’m not going to spend the rest of my life doing something I’m not passionate about. Not when doing something I love is an option. Nothing is guaranteed in any career, so I might as well be chasing my dreams.”
I nod slowly, trying to wrap my head around how someone can be so laid-back about their future, how someone can just trust that everything will be fine—even when their dreams aren’t the most practical.
