Chapter 34 – Brinley
brINLEY
B eau slept on my couch.
He’s never done that before. If we ever had an argument, he’d go back to his place, not crash at mine.
He’s still avoiding the House of Cards, though.
There’s a chance he’ll run into the guys in the lobby, but if he sneaks in through the back entrance, he can mostly avoid them.
I suspect the real reason is that when he’s back at his apartment, the fact that his friends are just upstairs, ignoring him, hurts him.
He’s exiled himself to my place because he doesn’t know where else to go.
Walking out from my bedroom in the morning, guilt weighs heavy in my stomach as I see his big body crammed on the small couch. He’s contorting his body to a tiny space because of me. His face looks peaceful, at least.
I hurry out before he can wake up. It’s still early, the shadows long on the sidewalks as I head toward the Copper Cup to face my customers for the first time since everything blew up.
I try not to think about how the future of my relationship was dangling from a few threads, and I just chose to snap all but one.
Beau and I love to ignore problems—it’s how we got this far into our relationship. I wonder whether he’ll ignore the fit I threw about him buying the building, or if he’ll see the nice, clean exit I’ve given him.
If you’re so pissed at me, maybe we should just break up.
I kept waiting for him to say it. I acted as bratty as I could, making accusations about control that I didn’t really believe.
I know Beau was trying to be helpful. Of course, I’m still a little pissed he didn’t ask.
If Beau offered outright to buy the building, I might have resisted at first. I still don’t love the idea of paying rent to my own boyfriend.
Eventually, though, I would have compromised, because it’s what’s best for the Copper Cup.
Buying the building without asking was always going to lead to a fight. It just wouldn’t have been a relationship-ending one.
I almost cry when I see Trevor standing in front of the Copper Cup, holding a stuffed animal of a capybara holding a cup of coffee.
“Who’s this?” I ask the capybara.
“It’s for you,” Trevor says, staring at the ground. “Because of—I mean, the whole—well, you know.”
I can’t blame him for struggling to find a euphemism for because your hidden identity blew up your life and also your business.
“Thank you, Trevor.” I take the capybara and hug it tight. “I’m really sorry I had to cancel your shifts so last minute.”
“It’s fine. Some people messaged me, I guess because they know I work here. And if the messages I got are anything like the ones you’ve been getting?—”
My heart sinks. Just when I think it can’t get any worse, the Internet harasses my student worker.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have to deal with that?—”
“Hey.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “It’s fine, Brinley. I can take a few mean emails from strangers. If they’re too cowardly to say shit to my face, then they’re not worth a second of my time. I’m just trying to say, I get why you closed the store for a bit. It was the right choice.”
His face is slightly flushed, but there’s no fear in his eyes, and I realize that sometimes I underestimate the kid. He’s much stronger than I give him credit for. I can’t stop myself from throwing my arms around his thin frame.
“Thank you,” I whisper against his shoulder. “For everything.”
“Y-you’re welcome.” He pats my head awkwardly, like I’m some dog and pulls away from my hug. “Is Eden coming in today?”
I slide my keys into the lock. “She’ll be here in a few minutes. She ran out of the apartment early to pick up a surprise. ”
We don’t find out about the surprise until it’s several minutes before opening.
The coffee’s done brewing, the pastry display is stocked, and the new arrivals are stacked on the table out front.
The only thing left to do is turn the closed sign to open, and I’m not sure I have the emotional strength to do it.
Eden rushes in with a small shopping bag. “Sorry, sorry!” she says. “Just had to make a stop at the Christmas market.”
“You know it’s the wrong season for that, right?” I laugh.
She pulls out two sets of hair clips with little red-and-white peppermints on them and hands one to me.
“I thought we should show a little pride in case anyone comes in looking for a fight. And for the gentleman, something a little more masculine.” She tosses Trevor a red baseball hat with a peppermint patch on it.
I bite my lip. “I’m not so sure it’s a good idea. I don’t want to antagonize anyone.”
Eden slides a clip into her own blonde hair and shrugs. “Whatever you want to do. I just don’t think you should have to cower at your own shop. Anyone who comes in here is on our turf. So I say, let’s own it. I’m team Peppermint, and I’m not ashamed of that.”
Trevor puts on the hat, his hair sticking out messily from under his cap. “Team Peppermint,” he echoes, pumping his fist. “We fight as one.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Is that a quote from something?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. It just thought it sounded epic.”
“Come on, Brin,” Eden says. “Wear it with pride.”
They both whoop as I use the clip to pull back my bangs. “Let’s do this,” I declare, with less enthusiasm than I feel.
With that, Trevor unlocks the door.
N obody yells at me all morning, except for Ms. Grimsworth, who snaps at me for closing the shop the day before.
“I had books on hold here, young lady,” she says disapprovingly.
“Next time, I’ll have them delivered if we have an unexpected closure,” I promise.
She sniffs. “There shouldn’t be a next time. If there is, I will be very put out.”
“I think she missed you,” Eden says as Ms. Grimsworth wheels out of the store.
“She despises me, Eden.”
“Oh, she despises everyone. I think she just despises you a little less than the rest.”
When I’m not straightening up the shelves, I camp out behind the register to check customers out. If anyone comes in who has a problem with me, I’d rather they come after me themselves than go after Trevor, who I put behind the café counter in the back.
Just before lunch, it happens. A woman wearing round glasses and a cardigan approaches the register, staring at me with something like surprise. “You’re Peppermint,” she says.
I stiffen. I knew this would happen eventually. Someone would come in to confront me in person, to tell me that I’m a bitch who betrayed her friends and doesn’t deserve to breathe the air in the same city as them.
From across the room, Eden points at her hairclip, reminding me to be proud. I straighten my shoulders. “Yes,” I declare. “I’m Peppermint.”
“Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m actually meeting you!
” she says. “I read your last post, and it’s like you reached into my head and pulled out my memories.
The same thing happened to me. Well, not exactly the same—nobody read my journals.
But a guy did ask me to prom as a joke, and after I bought a dress and did my hair, he never showed up.
Everyone at school laughed at me. I wish I could do what you did and hold him accountable to the world. ”
I blink, confused. “Oh. Wow. I’m so sorry that happened to you. It’s just—I’m actually surprised that there’s someone on the internet who doesn’t hate me.”
Now it’s her turn to look puzzled. “What do you mean? People love you!”
I snort-laugh. “That’s sweet, but you don’t have to lie to me. I saw the reaction.”
“Did you?”
“I mean, I did a few days ago. That’s when I decided it wasn’t a good idea to read the comments.”
“So you don’t know that you went viral?”
“Fuck,” I mutter. The last time Peppermint went viral, it was for the kinky interview about Luke. More attention from the internet is never a good thing.
“No, it’s good,” the glasses girl says quickly. “You made a lot of people share their stories. We all think you’re kind of a rock star.”
A blush creeps at my neck. I don’t know how much I like being praised by random strangers. The girl places several books on the counter, and I check her out as quickly as I can.
“Maybe read the comments,” she says in parting.
As it turns out, I don’t have time to follow her instructions for hours. Glasses girl isn’t the last customer to come in, eager to talk about my post. Twelve more women, plus a small gaggle of high school girls, find me to congratulate me.
Inevitably, they all have their own stories of humiliation, bitterness, and sometimes, revenge.
One woman tells me about stealing her cheating high school boyfriend’s car, and her subsequent arrest the next day during math class.
Another managed to sneak blue hair dye in her bully’s shampoo bottle, only to make his unsuspecting little sister come out Smurf-colored.
“I never took credit or apologized,” the hair dye woman tells me. “You were brave enough to put your real name on that article. I wish I’d done that, too.”
When I finally do find time to sneak back to my office and read the comments, I find not all of them are positive. One comment in particular bugs me.
Anonymous: You’re such a badass for fucking over those assholes. Never apologize. They got what they deserved.
I type and retype my reply over and over. The guys didn’t deserve it. I meant every word that I typed, especially the apology. Don’t let yourself get bitter like I did.
In the end, I decide not to post it. I’d only be feeding the trolls, encouraging people to double down.
Already, people are replying to the comment telling Anonymous they missed the point.
Hopefully, they’ll be heard. On the whole, the reaction is overwhelmingly positive—people praise me for my growth instead of blindly rooting for revenge.
Although after I see a TikTok fancam of my picture, set to Taylor Swift’s “Antihero,” I quickly exit the app.
I occasionally got fan emails when I wrote as Peppermint. This feels different, though. It’s something more than gossip and schadenfreude. It’s solidarity, women gathering together to share their pain, plus the ways they succeeded and failed to heal themselves.
Turns out, the anonymous voice I hid behind for years turned out to be less powerful than my real one.
It’s overwhelming to sort through, but one notification catches my attention. It’s an Instagram post from glasses girl, showing the Staff Picks table.
It’s official: Peppermint is a romance girlie. If you can’t make it to the Copper Cup, here are all her pics. #TeamPeppermint
It gets hundreds of likes and dozens of comments.
OMG she’s just like me!
Putting all these in my shopping cart immediately.
@ BrinleyWindsor, what are you reading now??
This time, I actually reply.
Thanks for asking! I’m reading a cowboy romance, Rode Hard and Put Away Wet, which is actually way more wholesome than it sounds. Next up is an indie author, Ruth Timothy. Her new small-town romance comes out this week.
Replies to that come in quickly.
Book club, anyone?
Do you have those in stock for when I stop by the store?
I loooooove Ruth Timothy! What other indie authors should I read?
As I scroll through the comments, something clicks.
The Copper Cup has always been a bookshop café, but it’s been general—fiction, nonfiction, whatever sold.
What if I leaned in? What if I pivoted the shop toward romance?
It could be a space built specifically for the readers who showed up for me.
I could redo the space in pinks and whites.
Eden would definitely help me plan a grand re-opening, and maybe Maura could make me a new sign, if she ever decides to forgive me.
I don’t have the full vision yet, but the seed is planted in my head. Maybe I’ll talk it out with Beau later.
If he hasn’t taken the out from our relationship.
A few days ago, it felt like my relationship was the only thing going right. And now…it’s complicated. Luckily, a text comes in to distract me.
Cat
Our girl is trending.
Pippa
I’m not saying I’m proud of you because I’m still mad. But also I might be a little proud of you.
Maura
My hands tremble with excitement. Maura’s message might just be an emoji, but it’s everything to me. It’s a signal that she wants our friendship to survive this.
Then the tears come. It’s the good kind of crying, the relieved kind, the kind that loosens something in your chest that’s been wound too tight.
Eden opens my office door and looks alarmed. “You’re crying! What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I laugh. “The girls just texted me.”
“Really? I thought things were still tense after your apology convos.”
“Me too. I mean, Cat cried, and Maura told me she needed time. I was hopeful, but I thought it might take months.”
“I get it. It would be hard for me to stay mad at you, too.” Eden hugs me. I appreciate her encouragement, but I also know that what Cat, Pippa, and Maura have done is bigger than just deciding not to be mad at me. It’s a radical act of forgiveness and love.
I clear my throat and step back before I can cry enough to soak Eden’s shirt. “Did you come back here because you need something?”
“Just thought you’d like to see the new ridiculous text from my brother.”
She shows me her phone.
Wade
Saw the article. Are you safe? Is Brinley safe? Do you need us to come?
Eden
We’re fine. Toronto is a city, not a warzone.
I snort with laughter, and Eden sighs. “They’ve been like this since I was twelve. Getting worse every damn year. Imagine three of them at your door.”
I haven’t seen them in years, but if Wade, Jasper, and Reed have gotten even worse since the last time I saw them, having all three of them show up in Toronto would be nothing short of an absolute gong show.
“God, no,” I say, laughing. “Don’t provoke them. I have enough fires to put out as it is.”