Preston will never let me go.
Not without a fight.
The bell above the door chimes, and we both jump apart.
I wipe my eyes quickly, turning toward the entrance. My blood runs cold.
Preston stands in the doorway, his hands in his pockets, wearing that calm, controlled smile that makes my skin crawl.
“Hey, babe,” he says, his voice smooth. “Thought I’d surprise you and take you to lunch.”
Layla stiffens beside me, but I force myself to smile. “That’s sweet. I didn’t know you were coming.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.” His eyes flick to Layla, then back to me. “But I had a break in my meetings and thought, why not?”
He steps farther into the shop, his gaze sweeping over the empty space. “Slow day?”
“Just one of those weird lulls,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. Snatching up Logan’s note, I crumple the napkin and toss it into the trash.
Preston walks over to the counter, leaning against it casually. His brows furrow. “Have you been crying?”
My body tenses, and my mouth goes dry as I internally panic.
“Yes,” Layla answers, her voice cheerful. “She accidentally broke one of the old coffee machines, and she felt bad about it. But the owners were going to replace it anyway, so it kinda works out.”
“The owners are back from their vacation?” Preston narrows his eyes, his tone sharp.
Layla looks at me and back to Preston.
I chime in. “Not yet but I think they’re getting back this week.”
“Yeah, probably sometime this week,” Layla corroborates my lie.
Preston looks at the pair of us like we’re idiots. “You’d think you’d know when your bosses are returning.”
“One would think.” Layla forces a laugh.
“Well, the second they get back, you’re talking to them. Right?” Preston asks me.
I nod. “Of course.”
Layla looks at me, confused.
My heart hammers in my chest. I’m desperate to get Preston out of here before Bob or Joyce decides to pop in for a visit.
“So,” I say, my forced tone light, “lunch?”
“Yeah,” he says.
I glance at Layla. Her jaw is tight, her eyes hard. “Do you mind if I take off for a bit?”
“Of course she doesn’t,” Preston scoffs. “Look around. You hardly need both of you here.”
Layla plasters on a smile. “Of course. Go. Eat. I can handle everything here.”
“Great. Let me just grab my purse.” I walk toward the back room, my legs shaking with every step.
All I can think about is that note in the garbage and how quickly I need to distance Preston from it. The part of my brain that lives in reality knows he isn’t just going to go rummagingthrough the trash can behind the counter. But the part of my brain that survives in fear wants to get him out of here as soon as possible.
