A week earlier, if anyone had suggested that Laura might fall for her greatest rival, she would have laughed in their face and said she'd first need to lose her wits for something like that to happen.

Present-day Laura was quite sure she had lost them, and she was glad for it. It took a little madness to move on with a plan such as hers, and desperation alone wouldn’t have cut it.

She had dropped her apron and tidied her hair as best as she could before heading out. Once the shop door was locked, with the Closed sign hanging in the window, she ran across the street, swerving between the customers waiting in line outside the bakery. There were quite a few protests as she slipped through the door before them, but she didn’t care.

It was only after she went in that her mind caught up with her actions.

“Laura?” a kind, familiar voice called her name. “I haven’t seen you in ages, child. My, how you’ve grown!” The tall woman behind the counter smiled at her, that same lopsided, genuine smile that her son had inherited.

“Good day, Mrs. Waycaster. It’s very nice to see you.” It was, too, only Laura was in too much of a hurry to spend a moment longer on pleasantries. She had one thing to do before her determination ran out. “Is Ambrose in? I need to talk to him.”

“Yes, he’s working the ovens right now.”

That was all Laura needed to know. She gave in to old habits, following the path she had known from childhood, sneaking behind the counter and through the two large doors leading into the kitchens. She recognized most of the people working there. The apprentices from ten years ago had turned into proper bakers, and Mr. Waycaster himself worked alongside them.

He recognized her as well, but he wasn’t one for small talk, so he just waved her on toward the back of the room, rightly guessing where she wanted to go. It wasn’t like there was anything else for her to be interested in at the back of the bakery, other than the master baker’s son.

There was only one set of doors left between her and the ovens, and she stopped right in front of them. It was as if the heat leaking through the faint opening between them had started to melt her confidence. Ambrose was on the other side, staying away from her in the farthest spot he could find while still keeping to his work.

She caught glimpses of him through the gap in the doors, his tall form milling about in a flour-dusted apron, his face an image of concentration. That would all be ruined the moment he saw her. So she timed her entrance for when his back was turned.

Even so, Ambrose was already turning to see who it was as soon as she pushed through the doors.

“Laura? What—” His voice trailed off as he once again grappled with the effects of his curse.

“Oh, bother,” Laura mumbled under her breath, rushing to him. “Close your eyes, you fool. Don’t look at me.”

It was reasonably clear by then that, just like her great-aunt’s love spell, the curse of hate would also only work when he saw her. He didn’t seem to listen, though, still looking at her even through his burgeoning tears.

Laura decided to take matters into her own hands—quite literally—and covered his eyes with her palms, pushing him all the way to the nearest wall. It took no effort to keep him pinned there. The pain must have taken a lot out of him, as he just stood there, taking in small breaths.

For once, Ambrose Waycaster did not look like he was ready to walk into a party. His clothes were dusted all over with flour, and his hair flopped over his forehead. Under Laura’s fingers, his face was moist with sweat and tears, and his cheeks burned with the heat from the ovens. She'd never seen him so unpolished, and she found that she liked this version of him better than the too-clean image he liked to uphold.

A large hand came up to tap one of her wrists.

“What are you doing here?” Ambrose asked, his voice bearing the smallest of tremors. “I thought you wanted to be rid of me. That last potion you gave me made it pretty clear.” There was a bitter note at the end of that last sentence.

“I’m here to fix things. That’s all I’ve been trying to do ever since you got into my bespelled chocolates,” she began her protests, but stopped when she remembered she was there with a mission. With a sigh, she changed tack. “It’s my fault for using that love potion in the first place. And I’m sorry for not believing your feelings, but you have to admit that you liking me doesn’t sound all that probable given our rivalry.”

“Our rivalry? I’d argue that’s pretty one-sided on your end.”

“Impossible! You followed me into my confectionery apprenticeship and tried to best me in all the lessons we had together. Even after that was done, you’ve been on my case, commenting on each and every recipe I created. Fates, you even complained about the potions!”

He was quiet for a moment, biting his lips in an effort to keep a smile at bay. “I asked my father to put in a good word with your master because I wanted to spend more time with you, not for any nefarious reason. It did turn out helpful for my pastry stint, though. Still, I’ve never wanted to compete against you. I think your sweets are the best I’ve ever had, and please forgive me if my suggestions come off sounding like complaints, but I can’t keep quiet when I know your creations could shine that much more with only a small adjustment.” His words came out in a downpour, quick and sure, like he had been preparing them for a while.

Laura had been too caught up in her own goals to think about the motives behind all those little actions, but now that she had this explanation, she started seeing Ambrose in a new light. She was almost glad for the love potion fiasco for finally bringing her to this point, although she couldn’t wait for the curse to be dispelled.

But before that, she needed to know one more thing.

“You really think my sweets are the best?”

“I do, ever since I tried your wildflower jelly when we were children. Everything of yours I’ve tasted since then has only served to reinforce my opinion.” He gave her that crooked smile of his again, and a small measure of mischief entered his voice. “I was going to say that’s also when I fell in love with you, but I think that happened later, around the time you botched the chocolate truffles in our first year of apprenticeship.”

The scene came back to Laura, and long-forgotten embarrassment made her cheeks flush. “That was not one of my best moments. I’ve had many more since then, and despite all of those, you kept liking me?”

“I still do. Even after those awful things you made me drink. I told you my feelings wouldn’t go away.”

“I’m sorry.” She took a moment to let the apology sink in and tried to muster up the courage for the next words she had to say. “I’ll make you a proper cup of tea once we’re rid of the curse I put on you. But first, may I kiss you?”

His mouth fell slack, and his hands pulled at her wrists, trying to uncover his eyes. “Who are you? The Laura I know would never—”

“I haven’t been feeling like myself lately, either,” she cut in, doing her best to keep her palms in place. “This is the only thing I can do right now, so hurry up and answer me before I change my mind.”

His grip slackened, and his hands moved slowly from her wrists to her elbows, then down to her middle, pulling her closer. “All right,” he said, bending slightly toward her. “My lips are yours.”

There was that lopsided grin again, and Laura ached to wipe it off his face. It was a wonder she managed to keep her cool.

She’d never even imagined kissing anyone, let alone Ambrose, and she hadn’t the faintest idea what made a kiss good enough to break a spell. She just leaned in and willed it to work with all her might, like she had done for the potions.

Then she forgot all about spells and curses, too absorbed by the touch of lips and hands and the heat rising between them.

When Ambrose had gently pushed her away, what felt like eons later, she remembered where they were and realized that most of that heat was coming from the ovens, which he was supposed to tend to. She knew she had to let him go, but her hands, which had moved to the back of his head, refused to answer her. His arms were wrapped around her, too, echoing the same unwillingness.

“What was that?” he asked, his grey eyes staring straight into hers, with no trace of pain left in them.

“The curse seems to be gone now, so I guess this must have been a true love’s kiss.” Laura’s voice sounded much calmer than she felt on the inside.

His eyebrows drew in for a moment, that endearing little pucker appearing again between them. “I thought those were just stories for little children.” Then, a small gleam appeared in his eyes. “Doesn’t that require both parties to be in love, though?”

Laura shrugged, not ready to give him an answer.

The frown disappeared, and that infuriating lopsided grin made its comeback.

“Let me go, before I kiss you again.”

“That’s not quite the threat you think it is.”