A Change of Tide

I hummed softly, a small, tentative smile tugging at the corners of my lips as the familiar, comforting aroma of roasted espresso beans and sweet yeast filled the warm air of the bakery. The morning sun was just beginning to stream through the large glass front windows, casting long, golden blocks of light across the hardwood floor and dusting the display cases in a warm, gentle glow.

"Hello to you too," I said, my voice carrying a soft, affectionate chuckle. I grabbed a clean kitchen towel to wipe the stray flour from my hands. "You can go ahead and sit down while I make the coffee. A flat white with cinnamon on top, right?"

Katya’s face instantly brightened, her sharp, forest-green eyes lighting up with genuine gratitude. "I love you," she groaned, her voice thick with exhaustion. "Seriously, Addie, you know me entirely too well. You are an absolute lifesaver."

With another dramatic, bone-weary sigh, she practically collapsed into one of the rustic wooden chairs near the window. She slumped forward, resting her forearms on the table and propping her chin in her hands, looking entirely defeated by the day before it had even truly begun.

I turned my back to her and began the familiar, grounding routine of preparing our drinks. I pulled two double shots of espresso, the rich, dark liquid dripping into the ceramic cups with a steady, soothing hiss. I frothed the milk, watching the steam wand create a perfect, velvety microfoam, before dusting the top of Katya’s cup with a generous shake of cinnamon. Despite the comforting routine, my eyes kept drifting to the vintage clock hanging on the bakery wall. I frowned slightly, checking the time.

"It’s just barely past ten in the morning, Kat," I said, turning my head to look at her over my shoulder. "What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at the office? I thought you had a mountain of meetings today."

She let out a loud, theatrical sigh that seemed to drain whatever remaining energy she had left in her body. "Yes, I absolutely should be. But I am completely burnt out already, Addie. My brain is fried. I had to get out of that office before I ended up throwing a stapler at someone's head. I got off early just to save my own sanity."

I raised an eyebrow, turning back to the prep counter where a large bowl of bread dough was waiting for me. I began to knead the dough, my palms pressing into the soft, yielding mixture with a rhythmic, steady pressure. The physical exertion was exactly what I needed to keep my own racing thoughts at bay. The lunch rush would hit us by noon, and I needed to work quickly if I wanted the fresh baguettes and sourdough loaves to be ready for the hungry corporate crowd.

"Work emergency?" I asked, keeping my focus on the dough as I pushed and folded it against the flour-dusted marble counter.

"When is it ever anything else in my line of work?" Katya huffed, tossing her head back so her perfectly straight, platinum-blonde hair fell over the back of the chair. "Honestly, it’s not even considered a standard emergency today. Usually, the entire roster of the Sentinels is giving me a headache, but this time, the absolute ruin of my career is being caused by just one single, incredibly stubborn individual!"

I couldn't help but smile to myself. Here we go again. Whenever Katya’s job as a public relations manager for the professional hockey team got chaotic, I was always more than happy to be her sounding board. It was the least I could do for the woman who had practically kept me afloat for the last six months.

"His name is... Leon, right?" I asked, pausing my kneading for a brief second as I racked my brain, trying to recall the names of the various athletes she constantly complained about.

Katya raised an eyebrow at me, a look of playful exasperation crossing her stunning features. "Nice try, Addie, but you really should know better than that. I have screamed and complained about this man so much over the last few weeks that his name should practically be a household staple in this bakery. It’s Reid Harrington. We literally went to college with him. Don't tell me you forgot?"

I blinked, genuinely caught off guard. I resumed kneading the dough, my brow furrowing in confusion. "We did?"

"Of course we did!" Katya exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. "He was a year ahead of us. He was the star player on the university hockey team. Good Lord, Brooks was so utterly obsessed with him back then. It was actually embarrassing. He used to talk about him constantly. Brooks literally only wanted to get drafted by the NYC Sentinels because Reid was already playing for them. Surely you remember that?"

At the mention of Brooks’s name, my movements froze for a fraction of a second. A familiar, cold sensation washed over my skin, starting at the base of my neck and spreading down my spine. The name alone was enough to make my stomach twist into a tight, uncomfortable knot.

I forced myself to breathe through the sudden tightness in my chest, trying to dig through the hazy, painful memories of my college years with Brooks. Was that the real reason Brooks had been so desperately, frantically obsessed with getting scouted by the NYC Sentinels? I tried to piece the memories together. I vaguely recalled a freezing afternoon during our junior year. Brooks had insisted on driving me to one of his hockey games—not because he wanted my company, but because he didn't want Katya driving me. Katya had been forced to tag along, sitting in the cramped backseat of his car while Brooks gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, ranting endlessly about some guy named Reid. He’d talked about Reid’s stats, his skating speed, his style on the ice, all with a strange, envious edge to his voice.

Yes, now that I thought about it, Brooks really had been a bit obsessed. He had spent hours studying Reid's playstyle, trying to mimic his movements on the ice, desperately wanting to bask in the same spotlight.

I shook my head, trying to clear the fog of the past, and let out a soft breath. Katya, thankfully, didn't seem to notice my brief lapse into memory. She let out another massive, dramatic sigh, waving her hand dismissively.

"Don't worry about trying to remember it," she said, her expression souring. "That absolute asshole’s obsession isn't even the core of the problem right now anyway." She paused, her forehead creasing as she seemed to lose her train of thought. "Wait, what was the actual issue I was complaining about again?"

"Your work emergency," I reminded her gently, a small chuckle escaping me.

"Right! That!" Katya huffed, her energy instantly ramping back up as she got worked up all over again.

I stopped kneading the dough and quickly washed my hands at the sink, rinsing away the flour and drying them thoroughly. I grabbed our freshly made coffees and retrieved a plate of warm, freshly baked chocolate chip cookies from the display counter. Walking over to the seating area, I placed the steaming flat white in front of Katya and sat down in the chair across from her, wrapping my hands around my own mug for warmth.

"He is an absolutely insufferable playboy!" Katya declared, her eyes flashing with irritation as she stared down at her coffee.

I tilted my head, thoroughly confused by her anger. "And... is that really a professional crisis? I thought half of those professional athletes were playboys."

"Ordinarily, no, it wouldn't be our problem," Katya explained, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table. "What these guys do in their personal lives isn't the PR team's concern—until it starts affecting the brand. But Reid has been taking things entirely too far lately. He is currently the absolute biggest, most marketable name in professional hockey. With the regular season starting up in just a few weeks, he should be focusing on polishing his public image, not dragging it through the mud!"

I shrugged, not fully understanding the high-stakes world of sports public relations. I blew gently on the steaming surface of my coffee and took a slow, comforting sip. "But shouldn't you guys be able to manage him easily? You actually knew each other in college. That has to count for something, right?"

Katya looked at me as if I was completely clueless about how the real world operated. "Addie, this isn't about his personality or whether we get along. If it were just about his attitude, it wouldn't be a crisis because, to be entirely fair, Reid is incredibly charming and actually very nice to work with. The real problem is his endorsement contracts. Every single one of his multi-million dollar deals has a very strict morality clause. He has to maintain a clean, respectable, and stable public image, or he risks losing them all. Even his official club contract with the Sentinels has the exact same conditions. If he keeps acting out like this, he is going to lose his job, his endorsements, and his entire career."

"Surely it can't be that bad," I murmured, taking another sip of my coffee. "What did he even do?"

"It is absolutely that bad!" Katya insisted, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "Even his own personal management team is crawling up his ass about this. I know he’s probably going through some personal stuff behind closed doors, but this is the worst possible way to handle it. You know Sienna Blair, right? From *Elite Dynasty*?"

At the mention of our absolute favorite television show, I immediately perked up, my curiosity instantly piqued. "Who doesn't know Sienna Blair? She's literally the main character."

"Exactly!" Katya’s eyes flared with pure fury. "Reid and Sienna are supposed to be dating. They’ve been publicly presenting themselves as this perfect, happy, deeply-in-love couple for months. But last night, damning paparazzi photos leaked all over the internet. And guess what? They show Reid on an incredibly intimate, late-night date with Sienna's own co-star."

My jaw dropped in absolute disbelief. I nearly choked on my coffee. "Wait... are you serious? He actually cheated on *the* Sienna Blair?"

Katya snatched one of the warm chocolate chip cookies from the plate and bit into it, chewing angrily as if the cookie had personally offended her. "I don't even know if it was actual cheating," she muttered around a mouthful of cookie. "Honestly, I was too busy being completely pissed off that he was stupid enough to let himself get photographed in such a compromising position at such a critical time in the season. I didn't even have the energy to ask him if the rumors were true. Everyone knows who Sienna Blair is! *Elite Dynasty* is literally the most-watched show on television right now. Her fan base is absolutely rabid, and they are currently going completely wild, absolutely flaming him on every single social media platform."

"Well, if he actually cheated, he completely deserves it," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. I had never actually seen a picture of Reid Harrington up close, but Sienna Blair was practically a goddess walking among mortals. "She is way too hot and successful for him anyway. What an absolute scumbag."

"I mean, to be fair, they did look incredibly good together," Katya admitted, a small, sheepish grin briefly breaking through her angry expression. "Two ridiculously attractive, wealthy people dating... they seemed perfect for each other, I guess. And honestly, Reid isn't really a scumbag deep down. He’s probably one of the best, most genuine guys I know." She paused, offering me a warm, teasing look. "After you, of course. Reid is just clearly going through something right now, though I have no idea what it is. I just desperately wish he would handle his personal crises a little more quietly and out of the public eye."

I nodded slowly, understanding her frustration. "So, what’s the PR team's plan to save his career?"

"Emergency damage control for now," Katya said, her professional instincts taking over as her tone became sharp and analytical. "I’m almost entirely certain he and the co-star weren't actually on a real date. Hell, to be completely honest, I’m not even sure if he and Sienna were ever actually dating in real life. It was just an arrangement that everyone in the media assumed was real, and they ran with it. Reid has some major commitment issues. Our plan is to just let the initial media storm blow over for a few days. Sienna is starting her big press tour next week, so she’ll probably get asked about it and graciously clear the air. After that, we’re going to pivot to a serious, long-term relationship angle to rebuild his image."

She leaned in closer, a spark of excitement in her eyes. "We are going to set him up on a fake-dating campaign with a non-famous, completely ordinary girl. Someone sweet, stable, and completely normal. It will make him look like a reformed bad boy who is finally ready to settle down. And then, when they eventually break up down the line, he’ll be painted as the heartbroken, sympathetic playboy and a media darling all over again."

I couldn't help but smile, a soft chuckle escaping me as I watched her. Of course she had already figured everything out. Katya was brilliant at her job, a literal force of nature when it came to crisis management.

Watching her focus on her work, so fiercely independent and capable, suddenly triggered a sharp, unwelcome memory of Brooks. Whenever Brooks used to come to me to complain about his problems, his career, or his teammates, it was never because he wanted a solution. He would rant and rave for hours, demanding my attention, only to completely dismiss or ignore any advice I tried to offer. He only wanted me to stroke his ego, to agree with him blindly, while never actually doing anything to fix his own mess. But Katya was different. When Katya vented, it wasn't out of helplessness. She already knew exactly what she was going to do; she just needed her best friend to listen and support her.

A sudden wave of shame washed over me. I cringed slightly, a familiar tightness returning to my chest. I really needed to stop thinking about him. It had been six full months since the breakup. Six months of absolute silence. He probably hadn't thought about me even once since the day he walked out of my life.

I had spent half a year mourning the death of a toxic relationship, crying myself to sleep, and wondering what I had done wrong. It was exhausting. It was eating away at my soul. I realized, with a sudden, fierce clarity, that it was finally time to let go. It wasn't going to be easy—nothing about recovering from Brooks ever was—but I had to try. I couldn't keep living in the shadow of a man who had treated me like an afterthought.

"Earth to Addie!" Katya’s voice suddenly broke through the suffocating spiral of my thoughts. She was sing-songing my name, a bright smile on her face, but I could see the deep, lingering concern in her forest-green eyes. "I completely lost you there for a second, babe. Are you okay?"

I blinked, suddenly realizing that I had been staring blankly at my coffee cup. I hadn't even noticed that Katya had finished eating her cookie.

I forced a soft, reassuring smile onto my face and reached across the wooden table, extending my hand toward hers. But the moment my fingers brushed against her skin, a split second of pure, unadulterated terror gripped my chest. My breath hitched in my throat, and my heart hammered violently against my ribs.

For a terrifying, fleeting instant, my mind dragged me backward into the past. I fully expected her to flinch away from my touch. I expected her to violently pull her hand back, a look of profound disgust crossing her face, before desperately wiping her palm against her designer trousers.

Just like Brooks always did.

Every single time I had reached out to touch him—to offer comfort, to seek affection, or to simply hold his hand—he would recoil as if my skin were coated in something filthy. He would look at me with cold, sneering eyes, muttering about how clingy I was, making me feel like I was something disgusting. Something dirty.

But Katya didn't pull away.

Instead, the moment my fingers met hers, she wrapped her hand around mine, her grip strong, warm, and comforting. She squeezed my hand with genuine, unwavering warmth, instantly shattering the cold, bitter memory Brooks had left behind in my mind.

"A penny for your thoughts?" she asked softly, her green eyes searching mine with nothing but pure love and concern.

I shook my head, fighting back the sudden, overwhelming sting of tears in my eyes. I hated how vulnerable I felt, hated how easily the ghost of Brooks could still rattle me, but looking at my best friend, I felt a sudden surge of strength.

"Just thinking..." I whispered, my voice trembling slightly as I squeezed her hand back. "It’s time, Kat. I really need to move on. Once and for all."

The tears spilled over anyway, hot and silent, rolling down my cheeks. Katya’s own eyes became suspiciously wet as she immediately scraped her chair back, stood up, and pulled me out of my seat. She wrapped her arms tightly around my shoulders, pulling me into a fierce, protective, and incredibly warm embrace.

"Oh my God, Addie," she whispered into my hair, her voice thick with emotion. "I am so, so incredibly proud of you."

I buried my face in her shoulder, breathing in the expensive, familiar scent of her perfume. For the first time in six months, the heavy, suffocating weight in my chest felt a little lighter. I was actually going to do this. I was moving on. I was finally, truly ready to leave my toxic, narcissistic ex behind in the past where he belonged.

Or, at least, that was the plan.

***

One month later, the crisp autumn air had settled over the city, and the bakery was busier than ever. I had spent the last four weeks throwing every single ounce of my energy into my work, perfecting new pastry recipes, and slowly rebuilding the fragments of my shattered self-esteem. I was finally starting to feel like myself again. The constant, aching pull of heartbreak had faded to a dull, manageable thrum. I was healing.

I was standing in the quiet kitchen of the bakery, dusting a fresh batch of croissants with powdered sugar, when the sharp, demanding buzz of my phone suddenly shattered the peaceful silence.

I wiped my hands on my apron and reached into my pocket, pulling out the device.

The screen illuminated, displaying a new, incoming message. My heart stopped. The blood in my veins turned to absolute ice as I stared at the name flashing on the screen.

*Brooks.*

My hands began to tremble so violently that I nearly dropped the phone onto the flour-dusted floor. With a shaking thumb, I tapped the notification, my breath catching in my throat as the message opened.

It wasn't a paragraph of apologies. It wasn't a late-night text begging for forgiveness or asking to talk.

It was a digital attachment. A formal, elegantly designed wedding invitation.

My world tilted on its axis, the fragile peace I had spent the last month fighting so hard to build instantly shattering into a million jagged pieces. Brooks was getting married.