Preston is ten years older than me and is a successful real estate developer. He makes good money, though I don’t think he’s had to worry about money a day in his life. He likes to say he comes from old money. As far as I can tell, it means everyone in his family is loaded, and the comfort of that wealth follows him everywhere he goes.
I’m not with him because he’s rich or gorgeous. I suppose I’m with him because I’m terrified of the ramifications of a life without him.
“And the new bruise on your wrist?” She eyes the purple splotch on my wrist that I unsuccessfully covered up with bracelets.
“Oh, a can of soup dropped from the cupboard and landed on my wrist,” I say, rearranging already straight bags on the shelf because my hands need something to do.
“It’s weird how a can of soup leaves a bruise that resembles the grip of fingers.” Her face is serious as she holds me in her stare.
I shrug. “It just hit me weird, I guess.”
Layla stands still beside me, and for a beat, it’s heartbreakingly quiet. “You’re an amazing person, Tess, and you deserve the best this world has to offer. You know that, right?”
I don’t answer.
She continues. “I will do anything for you, okay? You’re not alone. There’s always a way out.”
I swallow the lump of emotion settling in my throat. “You’re a great friend, Layla.”
“You sure you don’t want to sneak out the back door and come home with me?” Her question carries a light tone, but she’s completely serious.
“I’m good. I promise. But thank you.”
She releases a slow exhale. “Okay, but please know the offer always stands.”
We take twice as long as it should to empty the two boxes, both lost in our thoughts. When we’re finished, Layla tells me I can go.
“Are you sure? I don’t mind staying here until close with you.”
She looks at the clock. “Nah, there’s only fifteen more minutes. All our closing work is done. I doubt we’ll get another customer. You can take off, if you want.”
“Okay, thanks. See you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow, Tess.”
I grab my purse and make my way back to the front. I startle when I find Preston leaning against the counter. He shouldn’t be there, not that close, not that quiet. I shake it off fast and force a smile.
“Ready to go?” I ask.
“You all done?” His voice is calm.
“Yep, all done.”
I walk around the counter, and he reaches for my hand. His fingers wrap around mine—tight. He squeezes hard enough to make the bones in my knuckles press together.
“What was that all about?” he asks.
“What?” I blink at him as we step outside.
“You two hiding in the back.”
“We weren’t hiding. We were putting away today’s coffee delivery.”
His jaw ticks once, and he nods slowly.
Outside, he opens the passenger door of his BMW SUV. I step in quickly, grateful for the small buffer of space, and he closes the door harder than necessary before coming around to his side.
Once inside, he starts the engine and says, “I think it’s time you quit.”
