8. Hollow Promises
EIGHT
HOLLOW PROMISES
SARAIYAH
I hum along to "All I Want for Christmas Is You" as I hang a string of twinkling lights around the front window of Ruth's Brew. The shop smells like muffins and fresh coffee, and for once, I'm not worried about bills or customer numbers. I'm floating on cloud nine, replaying last night with Zale in my head.
God, that man knows how to use his tongue.
A group of college students bursts through the door, laughing and shaking snow from their coats. I grin at them, feeling generous.
"First round's on the house, guys," I call out. "Consider it an early Christmas gift."
Their excited chatter fills the shop as I move behind the counter, my body still humming from Zale's touch. I can almost feel his hands on my skin, his lips trailing down my neck. I shiver, forcing myself to focus on making lattes.
"You're in a good mood," Jamal comments as he restocks adds fresh pastries to the case.
I shrug, trying to play it cool. "Just feeling the holiday spirit, I guess."
But it's more than that. For the first time in years, I feel... hopeful. Like maybe I'm catching break, even that I can have something for myself.
The bell above the door chimes again, and I look up, half-expecting to see Zale's tall frame filling the doorway. Instead, it's a man in a crisp suit, clutching a leather briefcase. He scans the room before his eyes land on me.
"Ms. Banks?" he asks, approaching the counter. "I'm David Hosea, from Citywide Property Management."
My stomach drops. I know that name. They manage this building.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Reeves?" I ask, keeping my voice steady.
He glances around, lowering his voice. "Is there somewhere we can speak privately?"
I nod, gesturing to Jamal to watch the front. "Follow me."
We head to my tiny office in the back, barely big enough for the two of us. I perch on the edge of my desk, arms crossed. "What's this about?"
Reeves clears his throat. "Ms. Banks, I wanted to inform you that the building has been sold. As part of the transition to new ownership, the current tenant contracts are being bought out. You'll receive a formal notice soon, but I wanted to give you a heads-up."
"What? Bought out? What does that mean for Ruth's Brew?"
"You'll be offered a financial settlement to vacate your lease early," he explains, not quite meeting my eyes. "It's standard procedure in cases like this. The new owner has plans for the building, and we'll need all tenants to comply."
My head spins. This can't be happening. Not now, when things were finally looking up.
"Who's the new owner?" I demand, my voice sharper than I intend.
Before he can respond, I'm already thinking of the ways to rip Austin a new one.
The poor man looks nervous as he searches his cellphone.
Then he clears his throat. "I believe it's Fulton Enterprises... Zale Fulton is the principal buyer."
My heart drops.
I can't breathe . Can't think. Can't process the words I just heard.
Zale. Zale bought the building. Zale is kicking me out of my grandmother's shop.
Zale just fucked me twice.
"Ms. Banks?" David's voice sounds far away. "Are you alright?"
I blink, forcing myself to deal with the matter at hand and ignore the sound of my world crumbling around me.
"I'm fine," I lie, my voice hollow. "Is that all?"
He nods, looking uncomfortable. "You'll receive official documentation within the week. I'm sorry for any inconvenience this may cause."
Inconvenience . As if he's telling me my dry cleaning will be late, not that everything that I've labored, slaved, and fought for is over.
I stand, my legs shaky. "Thank you for letting me know, Mr. Reeves. I'll be in touch if I have any questions."
He leaves, and I sink back onto the desk, my mind reeling.
How could this happen? How could Zale do this to me?
Images from last night flash through my mind—Zale's intense blue eyes, his gentle touch, the way he whispered my name as he made love to me all night.
Was it all a lie? A game to get me to let my guard down?
Anger bubbles up inside me, hot and fierce. I trusted him. I let him in, showed him parts of myself I've kept hidden for years. And all along, he was planning to destroy everything I've worked for.
I think of the way he looked at me this morning, soft and vulnerable in the early light. How he pulled me close and kissed me like I was something precious to him.
Was that part of the act, too?
My eyes burn with unshed tears, but I refuse to let them fall. I won't give him the satisfaction of breaking me.
The shop. I need to focus on the shop. On saving my grandmother's legacy.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. One problem at a time. First, I need to talk to a lawyer, find out what my options are. Then I'll deal with Zale.
God, Zale .
The thought of facing him makes my stomach churn. How am I supposed to look him in the eye, knowing what he's done?
A knock on the office door startles me out of my thoughts. Jamal pokes his head in, looking concerned.
"Everything okay, boss? That suit guy looked pretty serious."
I force a smile, but it feels brittle on my face. "Just some building stuff. Nothing to worry about."
Jamal doesn't look convinced, but he nods. "Alright. Well, we've got a line forming out there if you're ready to jump back in."
"Thanks, Jamal. I'll be right out."
He leaves, and I take another deep breath.
I can do this . I have to do this. For my grandmother, for myself, for everything Ruth's Brew represents.
I stand up because I have customers to serve and head back out to the front of the shop. The cheerful holiday decorations make another wave of pain ripple through my body. How could I feel on top of the world fifteen minutes ago, and now…..
I stop and fold over.
"Boss…"
"I'm okay, just moved too fast." I sniffle and force myself to get it together.
This shit won't break me.
I stand and paste on a smile as I greet the next customer.
"Welcome to Ruth's Brew. What can I get for you today?"
I don't know what I'm saying or doing. I'm moving on muscle memory and a prayer. I'm moving because it's what I've always done, what I'll always do. No matter what Zale throws at me, I won't go down without a fight.
As I work, my mind races. How could I have been so blind? I search for the signs. Did he come here to check out the building? Was that his plan the whole time? Did he know when I told him about my grandmother and her dream for this place? Did he know buying the fucking building would put me out of business?
I stop and my mind is reeling. "I need some air."
I turn on my heels and toss my apron aside.
"Boss, you need a coat?—"
"Nah, I'm good."
I shove the door open and step into the frigid New York air, desperately inhaling and exhaling, as if the winter chill could freeze my heart and numb the pain.
I remember the night we met, how he seemed to appear out of nowhere at the bar. Was that planned, too? Did he seek me out, knowing who I was, what I represented?
The thought makes me sick.
I let him in my life, in my bed, and my heart.
"You're so fucking stupid," I hiss demanding my eyes not to cry.
A customer's voice pulls me back to the present. "Miss? Are you okay? You look a little pale."
I blink, realizing I've been folded over, lost in thought.
"I'm fine, thank you," I say, forcing another smile. "Just…uh… Have a great day. Thank you for visiting Ruth's Brew."
Then the sky opens and snow falls on me. I turn my face to the sky knowing I need to go back inside. The last thing I need is to catch the flu or a cold. Not when I need to find a way to pull my life back together.
I return inside and smile at Jamal, hoping to pretend I'm okay. He requests two lattes and I make the drinks, my hands move on autopilot.
My mind drifts back to last night, to the way Zale's body felt against mine, the intensity in his eyes as he moved inside me. Was any of it real? Or was I just a means to an end?
The bell above the door chimes, and for a heart-stopping moment, I think it might be Zale. But it's just another customer, shaking snow from their coat.
I want to see him, to confront him and demand answers. But I also know I can't bear the thought of looking into those blue eyes and seeing that my speculations are true.
I got played .
I finish the customer's drinks and hand it over with a forced smile. As they walk away, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the polished espresso machine. I barely recognize the woman staring back at me.
My hair is a mess of frizzy curls, peaking over the edge of my head wrap. There are dark circles under my eyes, evidence of a sleepless night spent in Zale's arms.
I think about the women I saw in those articles about Zale—the models and actresses, all long legs and perfect hair. He's fuck me and my life and now he'll go back to them.
The thought makes my skin crawl.
I grab a rag and start wiping down the counter, scrubbing harder than necessary. I need to do something, anything, to keep my hands busy and my mind from spiraling.
Why do I fucking care? I've only know the man two weeks.
Oh my god, I'm an idiot.
You can't fall for a guy overnight.
Instalove, love at first sight is a joke.
And men…
"Saraiyah?" Jamal's voice breaks through my thoughts. "You've been cleaning that same spot for five minutes. Are you sure you're okay?"
I look up, realizing he's right. The counter is spotless, gleaming under the twinkling lights.
"I'm fine," I say, but my voice cracks on the last word.
Jamal's eyes narrow. "No, you're not. What's going on? What did that suit guy say to you?"
I open my mouth to brush him off again, but the concern in his eyes stops me. Jamal's been with me through thick and thin, one of the few people I can truly count on. He deserves the truth.
"The building's been sold," I say quietly, glancing around to make sure no customers are within earshot. "They're buying out all the leases. We... we might have to close."
Jamal's eyes widen. "What? No way. They can't do that, can they?"
I shrug, feeling helpless. "Apparently they can. And you want to know the kicker? The buyer is Zale Fulton."
"Zale? Your Zale?" Jamal asks, confusion clear on his face.
I told him about Zale waiting for me after hours, just in case he was a sicko. But I never thought he was hanging around to end my business.
I guess I better add that one to the list.
"He's not my anything," I snap, then immediately regret it. "Sorry. I just... I thought he was different, you know? I thought maybe..."
I trail off, unable to finish the sentence. What did I think? That Zale actually cared about me? That I was special?
Jamal's expression softens. "Oh, Saraiyah. I'm so sorry. What are you going to do?"
I take a deep breath, standing taller, trying to shake this shit off.
"I'm going to fight. This place was my grandmother's dream, and I'm not giving it up without a hell of a battle."
Jamal nods, a determined look in his eyes. "We'll fight together. Ruth's Brew isn't just a coffee shop, it's a community. I'm sure we can call someone. The news, the NAACP, ask our customers to back us."
His words warm something inside me, a flicker of hope in the darkness. "Thanks, Jamal. I don't know what I'd do without you."
He grins, bumping my shoulder with his. "Probably burn the place down trying to make a latte. Now come on, we've got customers to serve."
I manage a small smile, grateful for his attempt to lighten the mood. As we turn back to the counter, I catch sight of the small Christmas tree in the corner. The Black angel ornament my grandmother loved so much seems to wink at me in the twinkling lights.
I think about all the Christmases we spent here, the laughter and love that filled this place. I think about the legacy my grandmother built, the lives she touched.
And I know, with a certainty that settles deep in my bones, that I can't let Zale take this away from me.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur. I go through the motions, smiling at customers and making drinks, but my mind is a thousand miles away. Every time the door opens, my heart jumps, half-expecting to see Zale walk in.
But he doesn't come.
As closing time approaches, the shop empties out. I start my usual closing routine, wiping down tables and stacking chairs. The quiet feels oppressive now, giving my thoughts too much room to run wild.
I can't stop replaying every interaction with Zale, searching for clues I might have missed. The way he always seemed so interested in the shop, asking questions about its history, about my grandmother. Was he just gathering intel? Figuring out how to best manipulate me?
And last night...
I pause in my cleaning, leaning against a table. How could I have been so stupid? So naive?
The bell above the door chimes, startling me out of my thoughts. I look up, ready to tell whoever it is that we're closed.
But the words die in my throat.
Zale stands in the doorway, snowflakes melting in his dark hair. His blue eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, neither of us moves.
"Saraiyah," he says, his voice low and rough. "We need to talk."
I straighten up, crossing my arms over my chest. A thousand emotions war inside me—anger, hurt, betrayal. Rage .
But underneath it all, there's still that pull, that drew me to him from the start.
"Talk about what, Zale?" I ask, my voice cold. "About how you've been lying to me this whole time? About how you're planning to destroy everything I've worked for?"
He flinches at my words, and a flicker of something passes over his face. "It's not like that. Please, just let me explain."
"Explain what? How you used me? How you pretended to care about me while plotting to take away my livelihood?"
Zale takes a step towards me, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "Saraiyah, please. I never meant to hurt you. This... this is complicated."
"Complicated?" I repeat, my voice rising. "What's complicated about it? You bought the building. You're kicking me out. Seems pretty straightforward to me."
He stops, frustration clear on his face. "It's not that simple. There's history here, things you don't know about."
"Then enlighten me," I challenge, taking a step closer to him. "Tell me why you thought it was okay to fuck with me?—"
"I didn't fuck you, Saraiyah."
We face each other in a standoff of wills. I'm fuming and the look in his eyes seems to plead with me to listen.
"Well, if you didn't fuck me last night, you certainly fucked my life."
Zale's eyes flash with something dark and intense. "Is that what you think? That you and last night meant nothing to me?"
Before I can react, he closes the distance between us. His hands come up to cup my face, and despite everything, I lean into his touch.
"Last night was real," he says, his voice low and urgent. "Everything between us has been real. I never lied about how I feel about you, Saraiyah."
"But you lied about everything else." I pull away from him, wrapping my arms around myself. "How can I trust anything you say? You've been lying to me from the start."
Zale's shoulders slump, defeat written in every line of his body. "I know. And I'm sorry. But please, give me a chance to make this right."
I look at him, really look at him. The man I thought I was falling for, the man who made me feel things I'd never felt before. Can I trust him? Should I?
"Why should I?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Zale takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving mine. "Because despite everything, I'm falling in love with you, Saraiyah. And I think you might be falling for me too."
The words hang in the air between us, heavy with possibility and danger. I know I should turn him away, protect myself from further hurt. But the part of me that still believes in love and second chances and Christmas wishes, wants to hear him out.
I brush away the tears and stare him in the eyes.
"Get the fuck out ! I don't want to see you ever again. "