I glare over at him, “If you think I will not open this door and fling myself out of a moving car you don’t know who you’re dealing with!”
He floors it, “Neither do you!”
“Aiden! Slow down!”
He doesn’t. In just a few seconds we’re in mydriveway.
“Bye!” I say before I get out.
He rushes out after me, but I beat him to the tailgate.
“Let me he—”
“Help?” I screech, “Help! You’ve been lying to all of us this whole time.”
He jerks backward like I’ve slapped him, “I have not.”
“Acting like we actually had a shot to save our shops!”
He reaches for my bike and lifts it out of the truck like it weighs nothing. “I am maintaining my side of the arrangement. Giving you until July before demolition. I didn’t agree to anything more than that.”
“But…but…” I don’t have anything to say. He’s right. He’s doing exactly what he said. And he’s even helping us anyway, knowing it’s basically for nothing. Knowing we’ll all hate him in just a couple months.
“What if we do it?” I ask, my voice shaky. He inhales deeply and sighs. “What if we actually turn a profit before then?”
“You won’t,” he says softly.
My eyes sting, “You don’t know that.”
“Harper, this is what I do. It’s not just your books, it’s everyone’s, Shelly’s pharmacy, Let it Spin. They are all so far gone…”
“You’re just cruel,” I mumble, unwilling to accept what he’s saying. He could just change his mind!
“I’m not. This is business,” he spits back, getting angry too. “I’m sorry if that upsets you, if it crushes your little dream to open a bakery but it’s not working. It’s not going to work. We both know it.”
“My dream,” I say quietly. “You don’t know anything, clearly. And you should leave, you staying here just gives everyone false hope.”
“I meant what I said, I can help before it’s over, I can—”
“Just leave!” I shout at him. “Just leave mealone!”
He opens his mouth, then closes it. He makes sure I have a handle on the bike before he lets go. I don’t know why I’m surprised as he gets in the truck, and leaves. Like I asked. My eyes burn as I watch him drive down the street.
Which is unacceptable! I cannot secretly, deep down, want him to stay. Want him to fight. Want him to be all Aiden about it and tell me “No,” like I’m the freaking dog. The dog who is whining miserably in the garage because he heard Aiden’s voice.
“He’s gone, Stuart,” I say. It’s not the first time I’ve told the poor dog those three words. But it will be the last.
_____
“Thanks, hon,” Dad says hours later.
“I didn’t make it,” I say. He bobs his head in a way that says he’s still grateful that I plated it for him.
I should be grateful for the food.
Actually, I am. The food was delicious.
It’s the benefactor I have beef with.
