I’m having the hardest time crawling out of bed, and I struggle to keep my eyes open. My body decided to take up permanent residence in this spot, despite the many times I’ve rubbed my eyes and stretched. “Yeah, I just need to grab my stuff out of the bathroom.” I roll over, letting one foot hang to the floor, testing an upright position.
Ert.
Nope.
I pull it back onto the bed and sigh. “Do we have to leave so early?”
“You don’t have to go back to Boston.” Christian’s words are measured, as if he’s rehearsed this speech. “You can stay with me if you want. It might be helpful to have an extra hand in the store since I’ll be returning here in a few days.”
“Oh, wait a second . . .” My brows bead together as I visualize the return to Long Island today. I sit up straight as I recall inviting that man to come back today. It was a casual comment I made to prevent him from being upset. I hadn’t thought that we wouldn't even be here. That was a hairbrained thing to do. I scratch the back of my head, lazily speaking through a deep yawn. “I did something dumb. I was so eager to get the new Coffee Loft equipment yesterday, I told the customers to come back to try the coffee today.”
“Why would you do that?” Christian parks a hand on his hip, never disappointing when it comes to all-things dramatic.
“I wasn’t thinking clearly.” I rub my eyes and yawn one more time as I stand and stare at the bathroom, all the way over on the other side of the room. It feels like a lot of effort right now.
“We can stop by on the way out of town. I can put a sign on the coffee bar explaining we’re closed to prepare for a grand reopening.”
My gaze directs to the tiny hotel window, the tops of the distant snow-covered mountain range peeking out from behind the downtown buildings. I feel so different in Mapleton. My chest isn’t as tight as it was back home, and I can take real breaths. I’m in a little bubble that’s safe from real life. When I think about going back to Long Island—even though it’s not Boston—I think about reality hitting. I’m not ready to hurt again. “You know,” I say slowly, already positive Christian will hate my idea. “I could stay.”
His head cocks to the side, and he freezes. “Why would you do that?”
I lift one shoulder into an anticlimactic shrug. “I can keep the coffee bar open, and you won’t lose customers from being closed. Maybe I could even screen the job applicants for you?”
“I would be tempted to take you up on the offer if I didn’t think you were using this as an excuse to hide from reality.” Christian’s mouth takes a downward angle as his eyes pace my face. “I don’t think that’s healthy.”
“Just for a week.” My voice cracks, as I hate explaining to Christian, of all people, how I’m a classic avoidant personality type. I would rather just deal with my heartbreak my way—by pretending it didn’t happen.
He whips his head to the side. I’m sure he’s about to roll it back in a hard “no” shake, but instead, his gaze finds mine and he’s unusually soft in his tone. “I’m going to worry about you if I leave you here.”
“I’ll be fine,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “Just let me take this time for myself.”
His lips bunch to the side, into a hard thinking position, before he heaves a heavy sigh. “Call me immediately if you hear from Tom.”
I nod, my lips bending as I know he’s already giving in.
“If Dad finds out, tell him I had nothing to do with this. I’ll be back on Sunday to take you home.” He removes his keys from his coat pocket and slides one off the ring for me, handing it over. “To the bookstore. Don’t lose it.”
“I won’t.” I reach for my boho-style bag on the nightstand, retrieve my key ring, and slide it on. I don’t have many keys on the ring, but one that stands out is the key to Tom’s place. My lips paste into a frown. I’m not sure why he ever gave it to me because I wasn’t allowed to use it without first letting him know I was coming. My frown doesn’t abate, instead my brows lower, tipping my expression into a scowl. I had overlooked another clue to his infidelity that was right in front of my face. My cheeksheat from the pure anger that’s left at all the lies he told me and for taking advantage of me. My fingers move with precision to slide that key off the ring, and I cup it in my palm and walk it over to the trash.
If I wasn’t trying to keep my cool in front of Christian to install confidence that I actually am fine, I might have tried to do something more dramatic with this key. Not sure what, but slamming it over and over with a hammer might have been fun.
Christian doesn’t see me toss it away because he’s typing on his phone. After a moment, he says, “I let Graham know you’ll be staying.”
“I’m not a little girl.” A chuckle twitches from inside, as I had forgotten how protective Christian can be of me. It’s one result of us growing up together without a mother. I playfully shoo him away. “Leave. I’ll be fine. Better than fine. I’ll have the coffee shop deep cleaned and running at full speed by the time you get back.”
And maybe I’ll have a new friend by then too—One who has excellent taste in flannel shirts.My heartbeat picks up the pace as I tease the idea.
“I’ll stop at the front desk to request they extend the stay in this room.” He grips his suitcase handle, pulling it behind him as he stops right before the door. “I don’t mean to rush, but I really do need to get to my vendor show.”
“And to Portia.” I smile teasingly at him, as I’m so happy he has someone to rush home to.
“And to Portia.” His smile matches mine, but he doesn’t pause for a beat when he adds, “You’ll find your happily ever after too.” His eyes spring open, and he tacks on, “Just don’t let Portia know you’re looking, or she’ll add you to her website.”
“I already told her I wasn’t interested in ever going on that website.” I flash my hands up in a silent wave, because if I don’tend this, Christian will stay all morning “making sure I’m okay.” He’ll miss his vendor show. “Love you.”
Flashing his palm up in a wave, he says, “I’ll call you later.”
“Bye.”
