Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
But I’m still pissed at myself for giving in to desire in the supply room. It’s so easy to give in with Elodie. She’s temptation in a clever, bright, loyal, feisty, vulnerable, sexy package of blonde hair, red lipstick, and polka dots.
When I’m home that night with Eliza, I try to reset. She’s telling me about what she learned in history class as we unmold the soap we made two days ago—the day I confessed so much of my past to Elodie. This loaf is finally cool and dry enough to slice. Eliza sets it on a sheet of wax paper, then wields a butter knife that’s sharp enough. “This is my favorite part.”
“It’s very satisfying,” I say.
“Why is it so fun?” she asks, grinning.
“Because it’s the reward. For all the hard work.”
“Like chocolate is a reward too,” she says, then digs the knife in, the tip of her tongue sticking out as she concentrates.
And I try to concentrate too. I try not to think about chocolate, or Elodie, or the way she listens when I talk, and how she seems to want to know me.
Eliza finishes the first bar, then lifts it high. “Reward!”
“It sure is,” I say, staying focused, staying present.
She cocks her head, considering it, then her green eyes sparkle. “What if we gave one to Elodie? Wait. No. They won’t be ready. Can we give her one of the grapefruit ones I made a couple weeks ago? You can give it to her as a gift on opening night?”
So much for my efforts to stop thinking about her. “How about you hold on to it for the next time you see her? It’s really a gift from you.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“She’ll like it,” I say, and I feel confident about that.
But I sure as shit don’t feel confident about whether Elodie still likes me or not. Or if she even should.
Alone in bed a little later, I’m still replaying our last encounter on the street. Still trying to figure out if I handled it badly when I got Celeste’s email, an opportunity and a Post-it saying get your focus on.
I chew on all these questions in the dark when my phone pings with a message from my brother.
Zane: WTF?
I furrow my brow. What is he talking about?
Gage: WTF what?
Zane: I go to London and you got your ass engaged? Am I even invited to the wedding?
Shit. I didn’t even tell my brother. I suck. Immediately, I reply and give him the details, and the second I’m done, my phone rings. I answer it right away. “What time is it in London?”
“Fuck all late. It’s three-thirty in the morning. But we were at a club and now we’re heading back to our flat, and I’ve seen the pictures online so I’m calling you. So you’re fake married?”
I shake my head, scoffing. “No way, man. Just fake engaged.”
He snorts. “Doesn’t sound that different.”
“Look, we’re only doing it to impress the guy.”
“I don’t get how that impresses someone?”
I explain the situation with Felix and the last couple he leased to who broke the agreement, then how Celeste had been playing hardball with her marketing requests. “And the guy who’s leasing us this shop is obsessed with marketing. He’s a wizard, Zane,” I say, excited just thinking about the lineup for tomorrow night’s opening. Felix knows how to bring it. “I think this could make the difference in me getting the second location.”
Zane knows why I’ve been chasing expansion for a long time. Hell, he knows better than anyone. When Eliza was younger, I had nothing saved up. No security. I lived paycheck to paycheck. When I was a bar manager in Sacramento five years ago, my boss was a ballbuster, reaming me out every night for every little thing. Nothing made me want to work for myself more than working for someone else.
Zane helped me out big time when he set aside money for Eliza’s college fund, and I’ll forever be grateful for his generosity. But I won’t rely on my little brother for handouts. I’m Eliza’s dad, and it’s my responsibility to take care of her. There are no guarantees with just one bar. A second though? Maybe even a third one down the road? That’s when I won’t always be sleeping with one eye open. Always looking behind me. Always wondering when the shoe is going to drop.
I tell Zane about the opening night and some of the opportunities that Felix has lined up. And as I talk, I feel a little more settled. It was right to cool things off with Elodie. It would be a mistake to keep bending the rules and looking for loopholes. “So we cooled it, but we’re pretending to be together,” I finish.
He’s quiet for several long seconds.
“Huh.”
“What’s that huh for?”
“But you do like her?” It’s a legit question.