Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“Here you go, Inked Daddy,” he says, but I have no time to wonder what that name’s all about as I say thanks then haul ass back to the shop.
I do it in minutes flat with a stash of chocolates.
I slide behind the counter in the nick of time, tying on the apron and helping handle the rest of the customers.
Including a young woman who’s got her phone in front of her face the whole time as she orders. Which isn’t strange. It’s pretty much par for the course. But this woman is all alone, and that stands out to me. She’s got to be someone. With tiny black braids twisted up on her head and silver eyeshadow against dark brown skin, she’s dressed in black with metal bracelets jangling up and down her wrists.
That’s when it hits me. Silver Zanetti. She must be the Dessert Devotee Felix mentioned. She’s talking to the phone camera, then she stops, lowers it and smiles at Elodie.
“Hi, bestie,” she says.
I blink. Does Elodie know her?
“Hi, Silver. Love your vids.”
“Love this shop. And I’ve been dying for your chocolate. I’m already obsessed with it, and I haven’t even tried it.”
Okaaaay.
“But no cocktails for me,” she says to me, apologetically.
“It’s all good,” I say.
Elodie moves quickly, then serves the influencer, who takes the tray to a table in the corner, sitting alone and shooting the whole time as she eats.
Elodie fiddles with her ring, and I want to reassure her, but I don’t even know what to say to her anymore after the other day, and the car, and tonight.
Except, fuck it. Sometimes, she just needs to know I believe in her. And I do.
I set a hand on her soft arm. “She’s going to love it. Your chocolate is amazing. The best in the city,” I whisper.
“Thanks,” she says softly.
When I look up, I’m staring at the face of Sebastian. His cap is off today, and his hair is thick, dark, and gelled. He gives off a peddling-life-insurance-to-little-old-ladies vibe as he smiles gregariously at the offerings. “Chocolate-covered cherries. You’ve really outdone yourself, Elodie.”
What does that mean? I want to punch him for no reason.
“Thank you. Glad you like it,” she says, clearly trying to be friendly, but there’s discomfort in her voice.
“Can’t say I’m not jelly though,” Sebastian adds, like a jovial uncle trying to appropriate youthful slang but missing the mark.
“There’s room for all of us. Everyone has a sweet tooth,” she says, trying so damn hard to play nice with her competitor.
I better aim in the same direction. “You’ve got a fantastic thing going at your shop, man,” I say, trying to defuse whatever bomb is ticking in him. “I gave some of your chocolates to the parents on the softball team, and they went crazy for them.”
He turns to me, head tilted, hair not moving, smile etched on. “Oh, you’re a softball coach as well as being a former pitcher?”
Dude looked me up? “Yes. I am,” I say, keeping it simple even as my radar beeps loud in warning.
“Gage coaches his daughter’s team,” Elodie puts in.
Sebastian arches a brow her way now. “Your…stepdaughter’s team?”
“Soon. She’ll be my stepdaughter soon,” Elodie adds.
“When’s the wedding?”
“Very, very soon,” I add, without thinking, because fuck him. “We can’t really wait much longer.”
It’s not at all what I’ve said to Felix, but I don’t care right now.
“I hope I get an invitation,” he says.
There’s no reason on heaven or earth why we’d invite this guy, but I say, “Of course you will. Now, can I get you a blackberry mule with winter melon? It’s our most elite cocktail. For VIP customers.”
Guys like him think they deserve the best.
“Perfect,” he says.
When he’s served, he sits down at a table with a man who looks like him, and they eat, drink, and rub me the wrong way.
But there’s no time to linger on him when Felix arrives near the end of the night, clearly pleased as he surveys the shop. “I had a feeling about you two. I see you met Silver,” he says, then rattles off the names of other local foodies who were here. “Keep it up for the next few months.”
When the doors close a few minutes later, and everyone’s gone, I’m spent from the night, the games, the pretend, and all the uncertainty.
I want to clean up and crash.
But I also know I need to thank Elodie for saving my ass with Celeste. When a text lands from my grandma with a photo of two tired girls conked out on a couch, I show it to her, then say, “Let me treat you to some rosemary fries.”
She looks like she wants to say no. Like maybe she figures no is the safe answer. But instead she says, “Yes. Also, those were the names of the shops where I got my bandana, my necklace, and my lipstick.”