Lina's brows scrunched up. A knot loosely formed in the pit of her stomach, and her toes curled. Gina's grip was firm and her smile polite, but her eyes stared with... interest.
"I'm sorry, but I—"
"I've heard a few things about you." Gina let her words hang as she closely watched the swift shift on Lina's face.
Lina gently squeezed down a breath. "Good things, I hope?"
"Yes, especially about your spectacular pastries," she said. "And Dalia here won't stop going on about 'Lina and her incredible canelés.' She talked so much that I felt like I was meeting a celebrity. I've been curious to see the face behind the raving."
It wasn't relief that flushed through Lina. It was the icy realization that her past was a shadow she could never outrun. Every compliment felt like a question; every new face was a potential witness she had to scan for recognition.
