6. Martine Continues Meddling
Chapter six
Martine Continues Meddling
Sal
I watch Albany head out of the house in a fitted crop top with ruffled short sleeves, the bright cherry print the exact same shade of red as the maxi skirt below. A red scarf is wrapped and tied fifties style around her head, hiding the white-blonde hair I suspect is in rollers. Large Sophia Loren-esque sunglasses perch on a pert nose, lifted a bit by a glossy red smile. An oversized, red leather purse is slung over her shoulder.
She’s so fucking cute I want to toss her up on the island, remove her sassy outfit, and smear her body with homemade vanilla ice cream and caramel sauce. I’ll take a second or two to appreciate how she looks covered in my creations before I lick it off every delectable inch of her.
I turn on her hot water and return her wave as she skips out the door. A trail of blackberry and vanilla follows her. Something smoky and rich, maybe a spiced rum, weights the lingering scent, holding it in the air for me to inhale. The fragrance is another draw. I’d expected a floral scent, but the edible mix she wears is perfection.
After the dishes are done and put away, I pick up my phone. Wild hope that Haze might have tried to reach me makes my fingers tremble. I slide my notification screen down. Lots of social media tags for Sweet Alchemy. At the bottom, a calendar notification. I frown. I don’t have anything other than inventory and orders today. I don’t have any classes to teach until tomorrow, and two sculptures to complete this weekend.
12:00 Lunch with Martine. The address is Verdoni’s.
Damn it. How does that woman do it? I open the settings to my account and change the password, adding it to a note app because I know I’ll forget it later. Haze doesn’t deserve Martine. She’s too good for him. I close my eyes and rub my hands over my face. Fuck. I’ll take a shower and call Martine personally and cancel. Sending an apology into the universe for my uncharitable thoughts, I head back to the guest house, chastising myself as I think about how much I’m going to miss the indomitable force that runs Haze’s life.
When I get out of the shower, there’s a text from Martine.
Are you going to deny a lonely old woman a hug goodbye, Mijo?
Damn it .
Not Verdoni’s. Please.
My phone dings as I’m pulling a shirt over my head.
Sweet Alchemy 11:30.
I sigh. I’m not hungry, but I’ll go for Martine.
Martine pulls up in a BMW 3, the vehicle Harmon Holdings leases for those employees whose salary package includes a company car. She bustles around to the passenger side and pulls out three large white bags.
I hold the door open for her. The aroma hits my nose immediately, cutting through the imbedded smell of chocolate in my classroom. “From Luis’s truck?” I ask.
“Yes, Mijo. I’m sorry about asking you to meet at Verdoni’s. It was a thoughtless gesture made with the best of intentions.” She hands a bag to me, then walks through the stations and pushes open the kitchen door with her behind. I set the bag on the counter and get a couple of plates and some forks. We might sculpt chocolate most of the time here, but I bake, too. Not all my creations are just for staring at. Some of them require servable components.
Martine dishes up lunch and then sits down. “How are you?”
“Does Haze know you’re here?” I ask at the same time. Martine knowing what happened is a given. I doubt he’s confided in her, but I’m sure she’s already been given a list of instructions. I’ll bet my next two mortgage payments that he’s transferred the titles to that damnable house and Sweet Alchemy into my name.
“He doesn’t. He gave me a list. He’s transferred the title to 4519 Crosby St. into your name. The movers should almost be finished packing your things. Your belongings should be there by five o’clock this evening.”
I stare at her in stunned silence. “He’s packed up my shit already?”
Pity stares back. “He had me pack up your things,” she answers quietly. “It wasn’t hard to figure out what belonged to you and what was his.”
There it is. Said out loud, the glaring deficits of our relationship are a physical punch to the gut. Our lives were so separate that even Haze’s assistant could remove me from his life with little to no instruction. “It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours,” I say faintly, as if I can’t believe my own calculations.
“Tell me why you left him.” She takes a bite of her food. Nothing in her tone blames or judges. It’s a plea for understanding.
“I don’t think Haze would appreciate me telling you our private business.” I dig into a chile relleno and take my time spearing the bite size portion onto my fork.
“I agree. But I need to know how to help him. Because I believe the two of you love each other, and that shouldn’t be thrown away over some silly disagreement or miscommunication. I care about Haze and, by extension, you, Sal. Let me help the two of you.”
I chuff a laugh. Not to be disrespectful, but the idea of Martine convincing Haze to give in to me is laughable. Her face doesn’t change, though. She just continues to eat, staring at me with earnest eyes.
My heart breaks a little more, knowing there is someone who wants Haze and me to work out more than he does. That someone outside of the two of us loves our relationship more than he does. “Martine. There are things I need, things I can’t live without, that are deal breakers for Haze. Our breakup is neither one of our faults. Continuing the relationship would leave me bitter. Eventually, hell, I do it already. I’ll admit it. I punish Haze for not giving me something I’ve asked for. Something I can’t live without.”
She wipes her mouth delicately on a napkin. “You’ve asked Haze for something he can’t buy you, obviously. I see. Is it something he can give but refuses to break down his walls to do so?”
She’s asking dangerous questions. I know Haze’s past, his history. I won’t talk any kind of shit about his emotional boundaries. I haven’t lived through what he has. I have no idea what the pain he suffers daily feels like. But I know she isn’t asking because she wants tea. She cares about Haze. She wants to understand so she can help him. Martine is going to have to learn that the only person who can heal the wounds Haze Harmon keeps open and bleeding is himself. I shrug. “I don’t know if the reason Haze refuses is because of what he went through or if what I’ve asked for is just a hard limit. He hasn’t specified why, only that my request is not an option for him. I love Haze, but what I want isn’t something I’m willing to live without. We are at an impasse, Martine, plain and simple.” My eyes fill with tears. I roll my fork between my fingers, gasping a little at the pain of my admission.
“Oh, Mijo,” she says softly. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry for me,” I say, stiffening. “I knew what I was getting into, falling in love with a man so…with someone like Haze.”
“I just want you both to be happy. Do you need me to have your things taken somewhere else?” She slides a key across the table.
“I’ll get my things. But I won’t live in one of Haze’s houses. I’ve already leased a place. I’m fine. I’d appreciate if you don’t touch Sweet Alchemy. I’ll make things work. This is my baby. I don’t want Haze touching her.”
She looks around the space, and when her gaze returns to me, pride shines out of her eyes. “Okay,” she agrees. “I understand.” And I believe that she does. She gets up from her stool and walks around the table. When she opens her arms, I lean into her and squeeze her back. “I just want you both to be happy. If that future doesn’t include being together, well, I’ll get over it. Take care, Sal. You are well on your way to turning this place into a success. Take a piece of advice from a woman who put work over her personal life. Don’t let Sweet Alchemy replace love in your life. Don’t be me or Haze.”
With that, she turns and leaves my kitchen, and I let a single tear roll down my face. Martine is one more thing Haze has taken from me with his stubborn bullshit. I’ll be fucked if I let him take anything else.
Fuck Haze Harmon.