I shake my head. “I knew eventually we’d end up back here.”
“You know I’m going to keep pushing you until you to leap. You’re a great teacher, but deep down, it’s not your calling. What you’re passionate about are those.”
He dips his head to the counter behind me, where one batch of finished cookies are sitting along with the ingredients for another cookie dough I’ll be whipping up before I leave so that I can finish cooking them after work.
“You still have the number of that owner you were talking about?” Truthfully, I hadn’t stopped thinking about the shop that Neil showed me weeks ago. I ran the numbers, and unbeknownst to him, stopped by a local bank to inquire about a business loan.
“Here it is,” he says, whipping out a business card from his wallet. “His name’s Bernie Ringwald. He’s expecting your call.”
I glance up at Neil. He shrugs. “I knew you’d come around eventually. I put a bug in his ear to let him know what you were thinking about for his space. According to him, he can convert the space into a bakery easily. You’d have your industrial oven.”
Frowning, I return my gaze to the white card with black lettering. Twirling the card in my hands, I say, “I’ve wanted this for so long.” It was a secret wish of mine. A fantasy that I only shared with Dierdre and Jackie a few years ago.
“You’re going to make it happen. It’ll be a Christmas miracle.”
I laugh along with Neil. “Doubtful that it’ll be open before Christmas, which is only three weeks away.”
“Christmas 2021, then.”
My belly fills with butterflies. The kind you get when something huge, exciting, and unbelievable is about to happen. The same butterflies I felt that morning I stood over Dierdre’s grave and looked directly into Neil’s eyes. These are my body’s signal that something earth shifting is about to change.
“Thank you.”
“There’s nothing to thank me for, baby.” He leans down, taking hold of my lips, kissing me so deeply, I feel it in the soles of my feet. He pulls back. “Just keep the cookies coming … and I’m not referring to the kind you whip up in the kitchen.” He lets his gaze travel down the length of my body, pausing at the apex of my thighs before casting upward to lock gazes with me again.
Laughing, I playfully push him away. “Go to work.”
He gives me a mock salute. “On my way. I’ll give you a call before you go to bed tonight.”
My stomach drops a little, disappointed that I won’t be seeing Neil for the rest of the day. Tuesdays and Thursdays are the days when he attends his meetings after work. After the sessions, he spends his time working with guys from his group. The group he attends is separate from the work he does at McKenna Rehab. We rarely spend a Tuesday or Thursday evening together, but he always calls me once he gets home for the night.
“Okay.”
“Oh, wait, you’ll need to get into my place for the oven, right?” He begins rooting around in his pocket, pulling out his keys.
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I’m going to let it rest for the day and then see how it does once I get home from work.”
“Cool, but in case it doesn’t, take my spare key.” He takes his door key off the chain, handing it to me.
“This isn’t your spare,” I say, noting that this key is from his main keychain.
“My spare’s in the car. I’ll use that if I need to, but if you’re there, I won’t need a key. The access code to the front door is 122410.” He writes it down on the notepad I have hanging on my fridge to remind me of ingredients to get from the store.
“Got it. Thank you.”
He kisses me before heading out.
I stare down at the key and smile, but the uncomfortable feeling of getting too happy bubbles up. My brain reminds me of the drama with my mother and how things feel as if they’re going too good to be true with Neil.
“Neil,I truly believe this venture is going to work out for both of our companies,” Larry says.
I stare at him from across the conference room. He has a broad smile on his face, and I can tell he means to be disarming, but that only makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I don’t trust anyone who’s trying to disarm me, and I’ve worked with every number of con artists and liars to know when one’s trying to bullshit me. That’s the thing about working with addicts—hell, about being one myself—we lie so much it feels like telling lies and inventing tales is a second language.
It also makes it easier to sniff out a liar when you’re sitting across the table from one. I would’ve picked up on the bullshit sooner if I weren’t busy falling in love.
“Is that right, Larry?” I sit forward, clasping my fingers together. “And what makes you so certain of this?”
He frowns, a wrinkle appearing between his dark eyebrows. “From everything I’ve shown you. The projects over the next five years look excellent. We’re talking exponential growth, especially if we’re able to move quickly on opening your clinics in Appalachia.”
