There’s a long, suspicious pause before an even longer, more suspicious, “No.”
“It’s actually from Jitter. He feels terrible for being too forward about making friends and drooling all over Mr. Cartwright’s coat last night. Can I leave this on the desk for him?” I hold up a small stuffed pillow with Jitter’s face on it—thank you, Laney—that I’ve attached a dry-cleaning gift certificate to with a red bow.
And I thought their first suspicious pause was long.
Rightfully so.
We both know it wasn’t my or Jitter’s fault that the man tumbled head over teacups in the parking lot last night. We probably both know this is a bribe attempt to get back on his good side too. And we both know I either had to pull some massive strings to get a present this perfect put together overnight, or that I randomly keep apology gifts on hand.
It’s the latter. Though sometimes it’s just a good deed gift.
Either way, I suspect Zen’s thinking this isn’t a very good gift at all, considering the man lost his dog to his ex-wife.
I’d be pretty upset if someone took Jitter from me at the end of a relationship, and I don’t know if I’d want reminders that other people have their adorable pets still.
“Sure,” Zen finally says, shooting another look at my dog that I interpret to mean I can’t wait until she’s not watching so I can love all over you because you’re adorable and perfect.
I smile so hard my cheeks and my eyeballs hurt. “Fantastic. Thank you! Are you a breakfast person? Anything you’d like me to whip up for you today?”
They squint at me, but instead of questioning me, they shake their head, politely decline food, and go back out front where I can hear Cedar and Willa helping customers.
Such a weird spot to be in.
I know Grey wants to destroy this place. I suspect something happened between him and Chandler, but Zen doesn’t trust me enough yet for me to tease details out of them, and Grey was so poker-faced last night when I half apologized for ghosting him in Hawaii that I don’t think he’d tell me what he wants and why either.
And yes, it was only a half apology on purpose.
I wanted to see how he’d react and take it the rest of the way from there.
On the off chance he’d consider selling Bean & Nugget back to me—not that I can afford it on my own, but I have a massive community behind me and faith in myself—I need to not do anything to jeopardize my chances.
Anything more.
No more sleeping with him. No more flirting with him. No more hurting him. No more ghosting him.
Hence the present from Jitter.
And my continued cheerfulness.
The morning drags forever.
And ever.
And ever.
Zen checks on me occasionally, always with a look of I want to trust you because you have a cool dog but I don’t like people who hurt my uncle.
Willa and Cedar whisper questions when they walk by about why I’m still being a stubborn ass and insisting on hiding from people in the kitchen.
“This is where I fit best right now,” I tell them.
I got questions at Silver Horn last night too, and the only answer I’d give anyone was come in to Bean & Nugget tomorrow. Don’t give up on us just because we have new management. It’s still great.
No one will be able to tell Grey that I’m sabotaging him.
No one will be able to tell him I don’t want this place to succeed.
But also, hopefully no one tells him about Silver Horn, because now that we’re sharing a wall off-hours, I need the speakeasy to stay a secret.
I need the place I can go when I need to let my guard down. And with Laney and Theo in the throes of young love and Emma possibly never talking to me again, it’s the best I’ve got when it’s too late to bother Grandpa or my mom.
I’m scouring the grill controls with a toothbrush when I feel a presence behind me. Instead of turning, I start singing along with the radio.
“You are not that happy to be scrubbing a grill,” Zen says.
“I love this place. I’ll do anything to make it shine.”
“Even though it’s not yours anymore?”
“It hasn’t been mine since my mom sold her share to Chandler’s parents. So this isn’t much different than it was a month ago.”
There’s silence, and I don’t know if Zen’s deciding if they want to ask more questions, and if so, which one first, or if Zen’s deciding to walk away.
Did Grey assume that Chandler sold the café on behalf of the whole family and split the proceeds with us? Does Zen think the same?
I angle a glance at the silver back above the grill.
Zen’s blurry reflection is still there.
They want the tea.
“Mom wanted me to go to college,” I say. “We were in that spot where her regular profits from the café—moderate as they were, considering they were split three ways—on top of her income as a stylist pushed us into a tax bracket that got lower financial aid, but if she sold her part to her brother, I’d leave school with fewer loans. So she sold her third of Bean & Nugget to her brother.”
“What did you major in?”
“Communication.”
They make a noise that’s clearly a stifled laugh.
“I know,” I say. “Already mastered that. I should’ve been like one of my other cousins and studied engineering or nursing.”
“Why’d you hook up with Uncle Grey in Hawaii knowing you were just going to ghost him the next morning?”
Hello, direct questions. I pause in my scrubbing to turn and look them straight on. “I didn’t head out that night with the intention of hooking up with anyone. All I wanted to do was make up for some of the bad that I did to one of my best friends by spreading some kindness in the world. He was supposed to be a random stranger I saved from an awkward situation at a bar, and instead, he was funny and charming and impossible to resist when he insisted on helping me do a few more good deeds.”
They don’t look like they believe me. Whether because funny and charming and impossible to resist doesn’t fit their view of Grey or because they don’t want to believe me is anyone’s guess.
“I ghosted him because I was a supporting character in the viral video of the day, and he either hadn’t seen it or he didn’t recognize me or he was kind enough to pretend he hadn’t. I thought he deserved way better than someone like me who was a complete and total disaster, but he was just so nice about wanting to know me better. I thought I was doing him a kindness in making a clean break. I left a note so he wouldn’t worry.”
They’re studying me like they’ve sworn a blood oath of loyalty to the man who’s apparently way more grumpy than he let on when we were in Hawaii and don’t want to consider that I’m not the bad guy.
“And in case he left this part out,” I add softly, “he gave me his dog’s name as his own first.”
They visibly startle. “Did he actually tell you about Duke?”
“No. Everyone in town is super curious who he is, and someone sent me a picture of him and the dog off his Instagram.”
Now I’m getting the eyeball of so it’s true. You’re the town gossip. “Someone sent you a picture. You didn’t go digging yourself.”
“I’m off gossip.”
“I hear you are the gossip.”
“Small town. I’m not the only one.”
“But you’re the best?”
“Was. I’m recovering. Unless there’s a critical reason in my life that I need to not be.”
They are definitely suspicious.
As they should be.
“I am so curious why you haven’t really pushed harder to find out why Uncle Grey would bail out Chippy from his internet gambling addiction,” they say. “That seems like it would be a critical piece of information in your life.”
I blink.
Blink again.
And then I burst out laughing instead of taking the opening. “Chippy?”
They shrug. “Whatever his name is. I also saw his wedding disaster video. I’m on Team Emma, obviously, because who wouldn’t be? Word around town is you are too. Even though you’re related to him.”
“Can’t choose your blood. He hurt us all in nearly unforgivable ways. He doesn’t qualify as my family anymore.”