I scrunch my nose. “Yeah, but you’re like…reallyold.”
He laughs, shaking his head, and I smirk back. “And still in love with my Everly, forty-five years later. Must’ve done something right.”
I smile despite myself.
“The usual?” he asks, already sliding an apricot Danish into a bag.
I bat my lashes. “You’re the best.”
“I’m not too bad for an old geezer.”
“Your words, not mine.” I grin, rummaging in my handbag for my wallet.
I lift my gaze to pay and look around, noticing that I’m still the only customer. My brow furrows. “Is business getting any better?”
He sets the coffee in front of me, his eyes misting over. “I hate to tell you this, lass.”
“Oh no.” I lift a hand to cover my mouth.
He nods. “Aye. I’ve done my best. I’ve even gone and remortgaged my and Everly’s flat to cover expenses for a little longer, but it’s not looking good.”
My stomach drops. Lance must be—what?—sixty-five? It’s criminal to think someone who works so hard needs to take out money against their home to cover costs. My heart breaks for him. I know I’ve been the only customer here every morning this week, but I never thought he’dactuallybe forced into considering closing.
When I started at Prestige, people were queued right up to the edge of the grass, all willing to freeze their tits off because Lance’s coffee and pastries were worth enduring frostbite—they still are.
I look forward to our chats each morning. He knows exactly how I like my coffee, he knows I need it stronger on a Monday and a Friday; he can tell when I’m hungover versus when I’m stressed and when I’ve had a shite date the night before. Lance is my little rock.
My brain scrambles to find a solution. “I can help you. We can figure something out,” I say.
His hand covers my own. “You’ve done enough just by being here every morning, Gemma.” He gives me a sad smile, and my throat burns as I swallow the emotion threatening to spill over. I need to be strong for him. “I’m still here for now,” he says quietly. “But sometimes we have to accept whenthings naturally come to an end. That’s life, isn’t it? Nothing’s guaranteed. We’ve had a good run.”
I nod, unable to speak.
“Now, you best be off to work. Don’t worry about me. I haven’t gone anywhere just yet. I’ll be all right.” He pats my hand affectionately.
My nostrils flare as I take a deep breath. “So, when?”
“When what, lass?”
“When will you close?”
He exhales sharply. “When it’s time.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Gemma
I polish off my Danish while I complete the short walk from Lance’s kiosk to the office. My coffee’s still warm in my hand, and I roll my shoulders as I step into the elevator, telling myself to get a bloody grip. But by the time I press the button, I’m worried about how Max will behave after last night.
Will he be pissed? Will he get even?
Bloody hell. I can’t escape my emotions this morning.
I count slowly as the lift ascends, taking the moment to compose myself. Professionalism. Maturity. Poise.
Right, Gemma. Lance will be okay. He’s a big boy—he has Everly. And you can handle Max. You run through men like it’s a sport. You’ve got this. He’s just a man. No big deal.
The office is already running at full speed, humming withthank God it’s Fridayenergy, and I must admit, I couldn’t be more relieved.
