Ellie lived in New York for ten years as a pastry chef, and after deciding to stay in Dove Point, it took her some time to convince herself to open her own shop. Her dipshit of an ex, who shall not be named, cheated on her and stole some of the passion away.
Rowan helped her find it again, and I have the honor of being co-owner and handling the office side of things.
Mom nods as she continues to stab at her food and give me minimal eye contact. “I’m going to give you some advice.”
Oh, this should be good.
She points her fork at me. “Be careful who you own a business with.”
I set my fork down and stare at her. “This isn’t the same situation as you and Dad.”
She puts up her hands. “I’m just saying.”
“Are you suggesting Ellie’s going to screw me over? Even though dad didn’t do that. You were the one who wanted to be a stay-at-home mom.”
“I had no choice.”
“You absolutely had a choice,” I chide. “You could’ve kept working at the business or anywhere else.”
Dad opened a dentistry before I was born, and Mom did all the back-end stuff. She eventually grew tired of it and decided it was best for her to leave. And even though it was her idea, she somehow turns it on Dad, making him the bad guy.
“Riley Lewis, you better watch your tone with me,” she spits.
I slump back in the chair, crossing my arms like a teenager. My eyes shift toward the ocean, while I’m trapped behind this glass wall. The vastness of it grabs me.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
She plasters on a smile that’s borderline terrifying. “It’s okay, sweetie. I’m trying to look out for you.”
My head can’t wrap around how she has this power to make me feel this way. It’s easy for me to stand up for myself with others, but not with her.
“So, what are you doing after this?” she asks.
I dig my fork into a piece of lettuce, chicken, and a crouton and shove it in my mouth, making sure I take my time to eat. I’m going to explode in five seconds. Sometimes I just want to tell Mom to shut up and leave me out of her wrongdoings.
“I’m meeting up with Ellie to paint the bakery.”
“Ah, that explains the overalls.”
I look down at my outfit. I thought I looked cute. Very on brand for painting. “Is there a problem with my outfit?”
“No, you can do what you want.” She waves me off. “I’ve never dressed you in overalls.”
“Okay, well, I like it.”
“You don’t need to get defensive. I’m just saying it’s an interesting outfit choice. That’s all.”
“I get it. Can we just finish up our lunch? I don’t want to be late.”
Mom goes back to eating her food in silence, and for the next twenty minutes, neither of us speaks.
I thoughtpainting would be fun, relaxing even. I thought I’d get hypnotized by the strokes. I was wrong. I hate painting.
It’s messy and time-consuming. My clothes are covered in paint. Somehow, even with my hair in a topknot, it’s splattered onto that as well. Ellie has a smear of it on her forehead. I thought this only happened in movies to make it look like the characters are hard at work.
Apparently, any idiot can get paint on themselves.
Our goal is to paint every inch of this space. It’s a massive shop, and it wasn’t until thirty minutes ago that we realized it’ll take us at least two weeks to finish this. Maybe. The previous owner painted the walls a bright pink, like a flamingo.
