“Maybe that’s the difference between owning your own business and inheriting one already built for you,” I say.
“No. Don’t play that card with me. I put in my time just as well as the next guy, probably even more. I’m just fully aware there is a line that needs to be drawn. My work life and my personal life are separate. So, I leave work at work.”
“But …” The word floats off my tongue.
Every word of his makes sense, and I should agree, but if I'm not constantly working at the bakery or doing something to help it grow, I feel like I’m letting it down.
I’m fully aware that this is a pressure I place on myself, but I can’t shut it off.
I’m too far in.
I don’t know how.
“But what?” Dutton prompts me.
Instead of answering him, I shrug.
“Come on, just tell me.”
I take a breath.
I mean, really, what's it going to hurt if I tell him? I don’t care if he judges me, and whatever advice he gives me won’t matter, because it’s not like we are real friends.
Yet.
The fact that he won’t just let this go is something a friend would do, right?
“I guess that if I have free time and I’m not using it to actively grow my business, then it’s wasted time. My brain likes to think I’d be further in my career if I took fewer breaks.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I hate how sad they sound.
Saying something out loud can sometimes make you look at things from a new perspective.
Except, all it makes me think right now is that Dutton is judging me.
The way his eyes never stray from mine. The way his chest rises as he thinks over my words.
His stare lasts far too long, and yet I can’t seem to pull my eyes away.
Moments ago, I said I didn’t care what he thought, but the inner dip of his brow makes me desperate to know what he’s thinking.
Finally, I take a deep breath.
“Say something,” I blurt and find it inside of me to break eye contact.
Like before, he doesn’t say anything, but slowly, he rests his arms on the tops of his thighs and leans toward me.
“I have an idea.”
It’s not what I expected him to say, but then again, I didn’t really know what he was going to say.
“Okay…”
“But it involves us leaving the house, and you’re going to have to trust me.”
The left side of my mouth twitches into a smile.
Trust Dutton Richford.
