On top of the tray is nothing but a paper napkin, a fork, and the Styrofoam container one of our traditional Sunday breakfasts gets delivered in. We’ve been eating the chocolate covered breakfast concoction without trays for over a year now, but it’s nice having something to help balance it on your knees. I guess. A minute passes before Aspen returns from the back with enough food for everyone on the couches. Jason, the café owner helps her carry the extras. Hudson looks as perplexed as I feel.
“Wow, Aspen, these trays are helpful. What great thinking.” Marissa taps her fork on the corner, the plastic barely making a sound against metal.
Aspen beams with excitement and accomplishment. “Thank you. I knew they’d go so well with our Sunday brunch. We can use them every week. Martha Stewart had these in her magazine.”
Yeah, she’s definitely spent way too much time online. It’s the twilight zone. She’s lost her mind.
Once everyone picks a spot on an orange couch, Hudson stands a few feet behind us, placing himself between the coffee counter and our position. So far Finn, Trey, and Grant are nowhere to be seen, but they usually don’t make an appearance until later. Aspen has been very firm about this being our spot when it’s freezing outside. And sometimes even in the summer. Anything below seventy is cold to Aspen, so our need for the space varies.
“Okay, what’s new?” Simone asks once everyone has had their first bite of breakfast.
“Aspen’s pregnant,” Marissa says before taking a bite.
“What? I am not!”
“Well, hurry up already,” Marissa continues.
“You married first,” Aspen stares at Marissa as if she’s absolutely lost her mind. “You go for it.”
“I’mreallybusy.” Marissa leans back in on the couch like she’s settling in for a fight with Aspen.
Her best friend only shakes her head. “Uh-huh. Next topic. I’m not pregnant, but I did decide I’m not going back to work.”
For a while after leaving the dog food company we both worked at, Aspen toyed with a list of other places she could work. Places with more money and responsibility. A place with “growth potential,” she said.
“Why? What happened to Miss Independent in the Big City?” Simone asks reciting something we’ve heard Aspen tell us at least once a month for the last year and a half. It’s her number one reason she wanted a better job. She maintained aspirations of being able to make as much as Finn one day.
“I worked all last year and made exactly what Finn did last week… on Tuesday. It will only be worse now that he sold his designs on the new Email Blasts program. What’s the point?”
That game sounds fun. It lets you blast spam messages with a fake sword by swiping on the screen. I can’t wait until it’s available for regular download.
I lean across the small opening between the couches and pat Aspen on the knee. “I get it.”
If I was in her shoes, I would’ve quit my job a long time ago. I’d be eating bonbons and watching Jerry Springer and those court drama TV shows and reading books all day long, but Aspen has always been big about showing everyone she can make it on her own. Before she moved in, Aspen even tried to force Finn to let her pay half the mortgage payment. Until he had to break the news to her there wasn’t a mortgage. He bought his building and completed the renovations on it in cash. I can’t imagine having so much money. It must be hard for her to step away and admit defeat.
“It’s true,” Simone says giving her a pity look. “Finn spends more on free lunches for his staff than you make in a year.”
Aspen widens her eyes like she’s trying to lift her eyebrows in the air but fails horribly. “Thanks, Simone. Anyway, see!”
One of the customers from Jason’s store, wearing a pair of dark color corduroys and a light blue button-down sweater approaches our small group. He moves to the right, getting closer to the wall where the shelves of dolls are displayed — or action figures as the guys call them. He has his eyes set on one on the middle shelf, his arm outstretched to grab it, but before he can make contact, Hudson steps between him and the merchandise.
“I don’t think so.” He shoos him away from our small group. To avoid embarrassment, I become super interested in the edge of my shoe. Hopefully they’ve forgotten the big tall hunky male is with me.
“Next topic,” Marissa says. “Can we discuss why Amanda is here with a bodyguard?”
“We’re avoiding his big ears and elephant trunk.” Aspen smiles in my direction and lifts one shoulder slightly higher in a half shrug.
It’s okay. It’d happen sooner or later. There’s no way Marissa could see Hudson and not have a bazillion questions.
“I was waiting for the right time to ask about the human elephant with a good segue,” Simone says dropping her knife and closing the compartments of her takeout container.
“Agreed, but is there ever a good segue in this situation?” Aspen nods her head. “Amanda… Go.”
Damn. I’d hoped to put it off longer. And hoped we could discuss it when he wasn’t standing so close. Hudson has his back to us but from the corner of my eye I can clearly make out how he’s leaned farther in our direction. Probably trying to hear what I’ll say. We haven’t become best friends yet, but things are friendly between us the last few days. I’d be a moron if I tried to pretend I haven’t noticed how hot he is in those tight polo shirts with the Pelican Bay Security logo on the left breast.
“No, guys. He’s right…” I widen my eyes and shift them back in his direction possibly letting them know this is not the time to discuss this.
Only Marissa picks up on what I’m hinting at. It’s odd considering she’s not normally one to pay attention. “Hey, Hudson, it looks like somebody’s outside the window. Go out front and get a better view.”
