“You give me free display space here, and I’ve sold a bunch of paintings that way. It’s actually kind of rude that Ihaven’tgiven you a painting yet, if you think about it.”
“At least let me pay yousomething,” she whines. “I can swing a few hundred bucks.”
“Nope. Free, or nothing.” My paintings might not be masterpieces, but to the right clients, they can go for a thousand dollars or more. It would be silly to charge Brinley, though. It’snot like I’m going to need money, not after I’m married to a billionaire.
I only started selling my art at all in a vain attempt to get out from under my father’s thumb. I thought if I could make enough to sustain my lifestyle without him, I might finally feel free. But so far, I don’t even sell enough to afford my own health insurance.
“One final counter-negotiation,” Brinley says. “Let me make you a decaf honey latte. And as a bonus, I won’t make you move the Murder Van.”
I tap my chin. “You drive a hard bargain, but fine. I accept.”
“I really missed my calling in big business, didn’t I?” she jokes as she heads behind the bar to make my drink.
“It’s not too late to get into investment banking.”
I settle onto a barstool on the other side of the counter, feeling more at peace than I have all day. Brinley manages to do that somehow—to make me feel lighter, just by being her warm, quirky, quippy self. It’s no wonder I come by the Copper Cup so much. No matter how shitty my day’s going, I always leave feeling a little revitalized.
“Hey, Brinley!” Trevor calls from behind the cash register. “You still need me to watch the place?”
Brinley glances over the espresso machine at the few customers, browsing the bookshelves. “Why don’t you see if people need help finding anything?”
He blanches. “I’m sure they can find it themselves. The store is really well-organized.”
“You still have to ask them, Trevor.”
“Maybe I could clean the bathroom again instead?” he suggests hopefully, and Brinley sighs.
“Look, Trevor, you’re going to have to talk to people. It’s part of the job.”
He looks down at the floor. “It’s hard, though.”
“I know it makes you anxious, but the only way you’re going to get over it is to push yourself.”
“Maybe I’m not right for this job.” He rubs his neck with his hand, looking defeated. “I think I should ask the guidance counsellor for a different co-op placement.”
Brinley’s mouth opens, and I’m prepared to hear one of her usual sarcastic quips. She shuts her mouth, though, and I watch as she swallows her retort and puts on a supportive smile.
“Youareright for this. You know the inventory here like the back of your hand, and you’re smart, funny, and polite.”
Trevor looks up at her, stunned but pleased.
“Now, you’re going to start by going and asking that nice-looking lady in the cookbook section if you can help her find anything. She’s going to either say no or ask you where to find a book. That’s it. If she’s mean to you for any reason, I’ll ban her from the store, okay?”
“Okay.” He blushes and kicks at a scuff on the floor. “I-I guess I’ll try..”
Trevor shuffles over to the cookbooks.
I grin. “That kid totally has a crush on you.”
“Trevor isnotcrushing on me.”
“He totally is, Brin. I’ve never seen a boy blush such a pretty shade of pink.”
“You know what the sad part is? That would make him the first guyactuallyinterested in dating me in like a year,” she groans. “And he’s an eighteen-year-old who’s scared of his own shadow. Tell me you’re doing better in the romance department than I am.”
I hesitate. For once, I actually have an interesting answer to that question. I’m engaged—or I will be, once I officially sign the paperwork in a few days. It should be a no-brainer to tell one of my closest friends, but I can’t quite figure out how. It’s like Itold James—the situation itself is so weird, it’s hard to put into words.
Besides, I can’t imagine Brinley buying the idea of a contract marriage, let alone ababy.If I tell her, I’ll be inviting her mile-long list of every reason marrying James is a bad idea. I’m not in the mood to hear it right now, especially since I’m feeling confident in my decision.
