"What's the word on the delivery truck? Are they able to come an hour earlier?" I ask Gabe, my eyes flicking through the checklist on my clipboard.
Gabe glances down at his phone, checking his email. "Yep, they can do that, but they will charge us."
"Fine. But they?definitely?know where the bakery is, right?" I frown, failing to sound calm.
"Yes, the guy was saying how his mum buys from there all the time. He knows where to go."
"But they know how to get here, right? To the hotel."
Gabe stares at me. "Hun, I love it when you treat me like I'm on death row and all, but it's under control."
I pop the last of my vanilla infused chocolate in my mouth, instantly feeling better.
"Sorry, it's not you. I don't want to screw this up. I can't." I'd rather ask the annoying questions now, rat
