I finally shoved my phone in my pocket and looked up. Bruce was squinting into the rearview mirror with an odd look on his face.
“A caramel it is,” I said, stepping out of the car and nodding to him. Which is when I saw it.
The dug-up mound where the garden used to be.
My stomach tightened, and I made a fist with each hand. A few workers were at the scene with shovels and picks, and a truck filled with torn-up plants was parked on the street. It looked like they were preparing to flatten the earth.
My project.
My job.
I turned to Sweet Sensations and felt like the wind was knocked out of me when I saw Xavier standing out front, staring at the garden. He turned to me, and even across the street, I could see the hurt flung across his eyes.
My job.
I hurried across the street, unbuttoning my jacket on the way so I could get to him faster. He started shaking his head as I approached, then turned back to the garden. I extended my arm toward him hesitantly, and when he turned back to me, he stepped into my embrace, allowing me to hug him.
It felt good to have my arms around him and to feel his warm face pressed to my chest.
“Damn it,” I said. “I’m sorry. I thought it was taken care of.”
He stepped back, pulling himself away from my arms just as quickly. His absence felt like an empty ache beneath my ribs.
“But it wasn’t,” he said flatly. “They tore it up on Saturday morning, right when the corner was getting busy.”
I wanted to reach out and hold him close again, but I knew it wasn’t what he wanted. I had made a mistake, and I was going to have to take responsibility for it.
I just couldn’t believe I had made that mistake. Had one of my employees screwed something like this up, I would have held them responsible, without a doubt.
But I hadn’t screwed up something at work. I’d screwed up something with Xavier, which was so much worse. Work would always be there, but I couldn’t say the same about him.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I should have followed up and confirmed everything was taken care of.” I shook my head, frustrated with myself. “You must think I’m totally incompetent at what I’m doing.”
He sighed and looked down at his purple Converse. He had on a tan pair of khakis and a light purple sweater that clung tightly to his chest. I imagined the look was as close as he came to black hoodies and gray denim. “Would you like to come into the shop?” he said. “Rhonda needs a break, and I’ve been sulking out here for too long already.”
“Yes,” I said, although I needed to say so much more.
