She replaced romance with work. Dough doesn’t lie. Yeast doesn’t break your heart.

Three months into their relationship, Ama was offered a dream opportunity: a six-month pastry residency in Paris. The kind of chance that could transform her into a household name. The kind of chance that meant leaving Fameye behind.

She looked up.

He looked up, flour on his nose. "You said your back hurts from kneading. I’m learning so I can do it for you twice a week."

Ama’s throat tightened. Her father had died when she was nineteen. Fameye hadn’t known that. He hadn’t Googled her. He had simply seen a woman alone and decided she didn’t have to be.