‘You gonna tell me or what?’ I pressed.
‘I asked her to move in with me.’
My fingers, that were about to pull up the accounting app on my laptop, froze.
‘You’re shitting me? What did she say?’
‘No.’ Oliver said easily. ‘Then she said yes, then no, then yes, and proceeded to get so overwhelmed she hid under a blanket for fifteen minutes.’ His tone softened immeasurably whenever he mentioned Fallon.
A soft chuckle worked its way up my throat. ‘What was her final answer?’
‘Yes. But she keeps changing her mind every half an hour or so.’
He launched into talking about his plans to buy a new house, and his ridiculous stipulations for their new abode. It was easy to forget how rich my brother was since he didn’t flaunt it. So on the odd occasion when his expensive taste came out, it took me a minute to adjust. Clearly Fallon’s constant flip flopping wasn’t affecting him, and honestly, I knew that girl. She loved my brother in the way people dream about being loved. Wholly, completely, and without judgment. Regardless of her hesitancy, they’d work it out.
When his litany of requirements for their new house had reached the end, I leaned back in my chair. ‘You sound happy, man.’
He took a minute to answer. ‘I really fucking am.’ Warmth laced every word.
And that pain in my chest flared to life once more.
6
‘I understand that,but if I could just get a meeting, then I’d be able to present my business plan—’ The robotic voice on the other end of the line cut me off for the fourth time and spouted the same regurgitated bullshit. I leaned back in my office chair, letting my head fall against the back, and stared up at the ceiling. The numbers on my laptop blurred together. No matter how many times I rejigged it or shuffled it around, each graph didn’t lose the deep red tinge.
I pressed my fingers against the bridge of my nose, my eyes pinching shut as the feminine voice repeated the same thing. Losing the thread of my patience, I snapped. ‘I’m aware I missed last month’s payment. I’m sitting in front of my fucking accounts. Trust me, I’m painfully aware of my current situation.’ The banker teller paused on the other end of the line; for a split second, I thought a shred of humanity might crack her icy exterior. My hopes were dashed when she started up again two seconds later in that same monotone voice, telling me everything I already knew.
My grip on the phone tightened. ‘Okay,fine, thank you for your time.’ I hung up, pressing the tip of the phone to my head, fighting the urge to throw it across the room.
What the fuck was I going to do?
That all-too-familiar feeling of dread dropped into my gut. I sat up, casting my gaze around the walls of my office. A spiral staircase cut it off from the rest of the building. Wrap-around windows on the far side offered a birds-eye view of the main floor. The neat rows of flowers and plants created a criss-cross pattern around the room.
Everything I could see, from the double doors at the front to the stockyard out back, was mine. I’d built it and renovated it with my own hands. Working my arse off for years to earn enough money to put the deposit down on this space, and every morning, without fail, I showed up and gave it everything I had.
But it wasn’t enough.
All because I knew this was the place she would have loved to own. This was the store my mother used to absentmindedly dream about as she pulled weeds out of her vegetable patch or pruned her rose bush. At twelve-years-old, I’d sit beside her, watching everything she did and hanging on to every word she spoke. This was the place she’d talk about, when her body started to fail her and the cancer spread. She would sit outside in her wheelchair, soaking up what little sunshine she could, and tell me that in another life, she would give anything to own a store just like this. That’s why I named it after her.
Cora’s.
And I was watching it slip from my grasp.
‘Uh, boss?’ A soft knock sounded on my open door. Pulling myself out from underneath the cloud hovering over my head, I saw my youngest—and only other employee—hovering awkwardly in the doorway.
‘What’s up, Tim?’
His blond hair flopped over his face, and he wore glasses that always slipped down the bridge of his nose. Fingers fidgeting in front of him, he cleared his throat. ‘There’s a woman here to see you.’
Frowning, I asked, ‘Who is it?’
His pale cheeks flushed bright red. ‘She’s uh, really pretty.’
‘That doesn’t tell me who she is.’ Even though I had a strong suspicion, I knew exactly who had caused him to be struck dumb.
His feet shuffled, and he gave an awkward laugh. ‘She’s um?—’
Tim was saved from explaining when a halo of blonde curls and crystal blue eyes popped her head around the corner. ‘Hi, it’s me.’ She smiled sweetly at Tim, whose entire face and neck had turned scarlet.
