“I appreciate you saying that, but I could do better.”
“And that right there is the difference. You’re willing to reflect and make changes. My father would never do that. You’re a good brother. You’ll figure out how to find the balance.”
He glances down at my hand on his. He turns his over, linking our fingers. “I haven’t talked about any of this—not in this way.” He looks into my eyes with that intense, singular focus of his. “It’s easy with you.”
“It’s easy to talk to you too.”
“I’m going to be completely honest,” he says, brushing his thumb over the inside of my wrist.
“Okay.” Heated tingles spread up my arm, and the air thickens around us. “What is it?”
“I made up the tour-guide thing to spend more time with you.”
“I kinda figured that out.” I smile.
“Then you know I don’t just want to be friends.”
“I got that impression, yes.”
“And?” His hopeful grin crinkles the corners of his eyes.
I feel my guard slip. For one dangerous moment, I want to toss all my caution aside and go for it. But after a lifetime of self-restraint, I slide my hand from his. “I like you, Chaz. You’re generous, kind, and fun to be around, but I came here with a purpose. I need to put all my energy into that.”
Disappointment fills his gaze, but it’s better to let him down now than later. He’s the type of man who would expect me to respond to him in ways I know I can’t. My past failures are too big for me to overcome. They overshadow these foreign sensations he’s stirring in me. A montage of disasters plays in my head, reminding me of how anything sexual always goes wrong.
“I’m sorry.” I tap my finger against my thumb—one, two, three, four . . . “If you don’t want to remain friends, I’d understand.”
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” He says with light humor, erasing any weirdness between us. “I have other places to show you.”
My relief is instant, but so is the tug of something deeper—something restless. And that’s the real problem. How am I supposed to stay resolved if I keep spending time with him, getting more caught up in the attraction, more caught up in him, and the way he looks at me like I matter?
“So, tomorrow,” he coaxes, his tone warm and playful. “You up for another adventure?”
No would be the smart answer. Practical and sensible. But even as the warning bells clang in my had, I ignore them all and say, “Yes.”
“Imight be going to the AdVantage Summit!” Sophia bounces up and down like she just found out Beyoncé was coming to town. “Chloe thinks her company has an extra pass that she can get for me. Like, this is big. Huge. One of the biggest advertising events in Chicago. All the players will be there. Isn’t that awesome?” She beams at me, waiting for my reaction.
The truth is, I don’t think it’s awesome at all. But ever since my conversation with Lexie two weeks ago, I’ve tried not to push Sophia about staying on at the café. Nonetheless, the topic remains a silent undercurrent.
I can do my usual and lecture her on how terrible I think the corporate world is, or I can keep my mouth shut and not ruin her excitement. Choosing the latter, I make myself nod as she continues to chatter while I finish an order with deliberate focus.
“Are you listening to me?” she huffs.
“I’m listening, Soph.” I hand her Mrs. Walters’ order. “Please take this over to her.”
Despite Sophia having her sights set elsewhere, she still dials it in when she’s here. I watch her approach Mimi Walters and get a smile that isn’t seen that often. Mimi was one of the first to complain about our “new-fangled coffees,” stubbornly sticking to her guns, but it was Sophia who got her to be a little adventurous and try a hazelnut latte. Now, it’s her drink of choice.
When Sophia comes back, her shoulders are slumped, her excitement deflated.
Because of me.
I finish loading the bean hopper and turn to her. She’s absently wiping the counter, circling in the same spot.
“I’m an ass,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
She faces me. “No, you’re not.”
I arch a brow.
