She snorts, grinning just as wide as I am. “Okay thenyoumove in withme.”
I laugh and park across the street from her apartment building. I reach over and kiss one of her dimples. “Okay then, Lana Aurora Gomez,” I say against her lips. “Can I move in with you?”
“Yes,” she breathes, smiling on my lips. “Yes, Christian Calloway, you can move in with me.”
I kiss her hard and soft. Deep and intently. I never leave her apartment anyway. I refuse to be at my parent’s unless I’m picking up clothes or something I need for Lana’s. And I go when they aren’t home so I’m not subjected to their abuse—physical and verbal. Last time it happened, Lana was a wreck when I got to the apartment. The moment she saw my face, she lost it. You’d think it washerwho my father beat.
I missed work and class for two days—split lip, bruised ribs, bruises around my neck. Dad is just your typical business-man-drunk. Mean, aggressive. An asshole. Pretty narcissistic. Someone who enjoys hitting his kid and making him feel worthless.
But with Lana, I feel okay. Lana makes me feel like the shiniest star in the sky and I see it in her eyes when she looks at me the way she does—like I hung the fucking moon. And I’d lower it for her if she asked me to.
“Well, this is easy,” she giggles.
“What is?”
“You already have a key and most of your stuff is already upstairs.”
“Convenient, isn’t it?”
“Extremely,” Lana smiles.
“I love you.”
“I know.”
CHAPTER 3
Lana
Books and Beans opens early today because I haven’t been able to rest since Friday night—not since I saw him. I tried to take a long weekend off and reopen on Tuesday, but it’s Monday and I’m here by six a.m.
We open at nine.
This is my favorite place in the world, I think. Other than my house, obviously. Books and Beans was always going to be mine. I was always going to make it a reality sooner or later. And…I can’t call myself lucky that it happened sooner—not withhowit happened sooner.
I’m not proud of it. I’m not proud of being manipulated and accepting it and letting it get to me—letting it make me resenthim.
I’m angry at him—I have been for years. But the thing that came just months after he left, made me angrier.
Christian is here, back in town, and I don’t trust him one bit. He comes back like he owns the place with his fancy suits and dress shoes and a haircut that he most likely overpaid for.He still has the stubble though.
I texted Natalia and Isabelle last night—caught them up on the situation at hand. I stopped typing after that one long message I sent so I could cry in the shower. And then again, into my pillow.
Nothing better than tears to put you into the best sleep of your life.
“Lana!”
I sigh and wince with each step I take toward the kitchen. “What?” I ask, hissing when I step on the blister at the base of my big toe. “Shit.”
“Lana, what happened?” Natalia washes and dries her hands, her brows pinching as she regards me. “Those fucking shoes, Lana, I swear! I tell you every time I come here.”
I take a seat on the nearest stool at the stainless steel work station. “I know,” I sigh. “The shoes just…haven’t been a priority.”
Natalia shoots me a look, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back against the kitchen’s sink. “You’re ridiculous because you have no other priorities.”
“I have this bookshop and the cafe.”
“The bookshop cafe is one thing, Lana!”
