45. Leah
45
Leah
M y glass case is filled with pecan rolls—the orange rolls have disappeared. Cricket is like an obsessed woman on a mission. She’s changing things. My most popular roll is sitting in the case unpurchased while the orange rolls—which are, in fact, equally delicious—are gone.
Huh.
She says she’s not campaigning when I’m in the back. But she must be. A woman came in with her husband and daughter, and I swear the girl said to Cricket, “Vote for orange.”
Cricket should consider a career change. Maybe a presidential campaign manager. She’s good at convincing.
And the pecan rolls will sell before noon—they really are a fan favorite. No one is complaining.
Even Arnold purchased rolls today. With his very own money. Sure, he got his usual order, and he tried to trade me a coin from Paraguay for his purchase of four pecan rolls, but I declined. And then he pulled out his wallet and used real, actual cash to pay me.
It was glorious .
Sweet Swirls—if I still get to call it that at the end of the month—is going to make it!
Abuelo always said that all things have their opposite. I’m finding he was right.
Then as if my happy, lovely thought has summoned the very opposite. The killer of all things joyous and wonderful looks at me through my shop window.
PJ.
Why? Why here? Why now? And I was having such a good day.
Cooper says PJ shouldn’t even be talking to me unless he’s present.
My heart does a small leap at Cooper’s name. It’s happening more and more these days. I think about him, or someone else says his name, or he randomly shows up on my doorstep and my heart turns into a ballerina.
It’s crazy and wonderful all at once.
Liking Cooper Bailey like I do was something my brain never even tried to conjure, but now that it is, now that I do, I’m struggling to imagine life any other way.
And with that ultra-happy thought, PJ—joy killer—Booker, the opposite of all things Cooper, walks into my shop.
“Here you are.” I hand the woman in front of me her box of pecan rolls and smile. It’s a forced smile. “Thanks for coming to Sweet Swirls.”
She steps past PJ and exits, leaving me alone with my ex. PJ waits until the woman is gone, the shop door shut behind her, before sneering at me. “Rubbing it in? That’s a little beneath you, Leah.”
My brows cinch, and I replay his words in my head. “ Rubbing what in?”
His Adam’s apple bobs with a swallow. “He didn’t tell you?”
“Who didn’t tell me what? Why are you here?”
PJ’s scowling expression smooths over, and his lips perk into a genuine grin. “Your boyfriend .” He lifts his hands, air quoting the last word. “That was extra kind of him to act as if he liked you, to help you, to make up for the past.”
He’s crazy. And yet, my heart thuds with uncertainty. Thud. Thud. Thud. “What are you talking about?”
“He told me.” His brows perk up. He cups his mouth as if he’s telling me a secret and whispers, “ Pro bono .”
Thud. Thud. “So what?” I set one confident hand to my hip—it’s a lie. That hand, that hip, they are pretending. I am more confident in using a gusset than I am standing before him at this moment. “One friend can’t help another?”
“Well, sure. Except that the two of you aren’t friends. Are you? Last I heard, you hated that guy.” PJ crosses his arms and chuckles to himself. “How did he convince you? I was surprised you’d let him help you—I mean, until he told me.”
He waits for me to bite, and while I’m silent, I am floundering, waiting for whatever it is Cooper told him.
“What did he say again? Something about him making your life so much harder than it should have been. He must really have wanted to make amends. Nice guy to go this far.”
A shaky breath falls from my lips. “He didn’t convince me. It just happened.”
I was proud in the beginning. So proud and indignant, I refused to ask Cooper for help. I refused, but he said he wanted to make it up to me. He wanted to apologize. There’s truth in what PJ says. Truth and wrongness. Because while everything he’s saying is accurate—it didn’t happen like that.
“Well, I couldn’t let him suffer any longer. He’s noble, but he doesn’t need to be a martyr.” PJ sighs. “I told him he was off the hook.” He shrugs one shoulder. “You can have your logo.” He sighs and tosses a hand in the air. “I’m over it. It’s a little repetitive and dull now that I think about it.”
“Now that you think about it? You were suing me. Do you know the kind of emotional roller coaster you’ve put me through?”
“I’m pretty sure you gifted me our podcast and that title just so this would happen.”
I shrink—but then, PJ isn’t the only person who’s made something of himself. In fact, of the two of us, I’m the one who was brave enough to open my own shop. He may be talented. But he’s spineless. He’s a coward.
I think back to all those lessons with Cooper. Stay calm. Throw his words back at him.
PJ Booker isn’t allowed to talk to me like this. “I chose for this to happen? Is that what you said?”
He lifts one shoulder in nonchalance. But he doesn’t respond.
“How do you expect me to respond to that?”
“I—well?—”
I cross my arms. I stare at him. I refuse to break eye contact or lose control. “Do you realize how insane you sound?”
He huffs out a gust of air. “Whatever, Leah. Just wanted to tell you that your boyfriend ”—more air quotes—“is off the hook. He doesn’t have to hang out with you anymore.”
My pulse races in my neck and wrists. But I take a breath and remind myself to stay calm. PJ has no control over me. And apparently, I’m not being sued anymore.
Whatever Cooper did, it worked. Because I don’t believe for a minute that PJ changed his mind.
C ooper did not build a relationship with me to make amends. Right? This is real.
It has certainly felt real. He told me that he likes me. Again and again. He acts as if he likes me with every word, every action.
“Andrea…” I groan, pressing my lips together, a pit growing in my stomach. How can I be so sure and so unsure all at the same time?
“Stop it. He likes you,” she says, money in hand. Because of my whining, she’s had to restart counting the money in our register four times now.
“I really don’t want to be a fool again.”
“You’re not a fool. Cooper likes you. Trust yourself, Leah.” She sets the money in her hand on the countertop—she’ll have to restart again. “I know that high school was hard. I know that PJ tried to crush every ounce of your confidence. But that doesn’t mean he gets to. Trust yourself. You know .” She stares at me, one hand on each of my shoulders. “You are the smartest, bravest woman I know. Don’t let someone else make you question who you are and what you already know.”
“I agree,” says a nasally voice I didn’t even know was in the room.
“ Eep !” I jerk out of Andrea’s hold and whip my head over to Arnold Hallstead, standing in the doorway of my shop. With a hand to my heart, I glare at him. “ Arnold . How long have you been there?”
“About three minutes. You really should put a bell on your door. It lets you know when someone has entered.”
“Usually, the closed sign tells them not to enter.” I huff and brush my hands down my apron front. “Did you need something? ”
“Can I get one more pecan roll? I’m taking it to my mother.”
“Your mother?” I say. Arnold has a mother. I mean, I suppose we all have mothers. But graying, combover Arnold has a mother? A living one?
“Forget that,” Andrea says. “You said you agree with me, Mr. Hallstead? You were listening to us?”
“Interrupting would have been rude. But yes, I heard. And considering what Cooper said to that very irritable fellow, I think your friend is right, Miss Bradford. You should trust yourself. And him.” He nods. “About that roll. Any left? Could I possibly get it half off? It isn’t fresh?—”
“Hey, I baked those rolls this very morning. It is fresh and?—”
“The irritable man?” Andrea says, her wide eyes telling me to shut up about the roll. When neither Arnold nor I say a thing, she huffs out a breath. Then, reaching for a box beneath the counter—one that’s meant for her and Mitch, she says, “Here! You can take these. On the house.”
“Andrea!” I hiss. “I just barely got the man to start paying!”
“Tell me about the irritable man,” my friend says, eyes on Arnold.
“I believe he is the man suing Miss Bradford. Or should I say was ? Mr. Bailey gave him quite the talking to. Threatened him, if I’m not mistaken. And then he told the man he was madly in love with you.”
“In love?” I squeak.
“Madly.” Arnold nods. “I may have added the madly part, but I did minor in theater in college. I have some flare. It just comes out at times. Without permission.” Arnold shakes his head as if his uncontrollable flare is such a bother.
I eye the man in his very brown suit. Either he owns seven, or he wears the same one every single day. Brown pants, brown jacket, cream shirt, and tan tie. Yep, quite the flare, Arnold.
“Go back to the love part.” Andrea waves a hand at him, holding her box of rolls hostage with the other. He only gets them if he explains himself.
“I have nothing else to say. He told the man that he’d never stop, that he’d happily drag out case after case until the irritable man had no money left. Because he loved you.”
“Because he loves you.” Andrea drops Arnold’s box of rolls in front of him, then holds her hands to her heart.
“Cooper loves me?” Everything in front of me has gone blurry. Everything inside of me has grown warm. My head repeats the words again and again. They burn with so much more rightness and truth than anything PJ said to me today.