21. Aubree
TWENTY-ONE
Beatrice
The kids mentioned you coming to visit. I purchased an open-ended round-trip ticket for you.
My heart swells at her thoughtfulness.
Me
Thank you! You’re the best.
I have no idea when I’m going to visit, and the thought of leaving Brody and Hayden sucks. But I’m missing my kids something fierce. This is the longest I’ve gone without them, and I don’t think I can last much longer without hugging and kissing them, despite the fact that I know they’re having the time of their lives.
A thought pops into my head—maybe I could ask Hayden and Brody to join me. We could make it a long weekend since the Fourth of July is coming up.
No. I mentally shake my head. It’s too soon for that. And them meeting my kids at my in-laws is not the time or the place.
I’ll go by myself, spend time with my babies, and then when I come back, spend the rest of the time they’re away with Brody and Hayden, making the most out of my temporary kid-free situation.
I’m going through my closing procedures when the door chimes, and in walks Benitez Russo, the building owner and bane of my existence.
“The answer is still no,” I tell him, continuing to wipe down the tables.
“Why do you have to make this so difficult?” he says, walking a few feet in but not more, knowing he’s not welcome in my coffeehouse. He might own the building I live and work in, but I can’t stand him. His father was such a good man, but he’s unfortunately nothing like him, which is why Benitez never came around until Sal passed away. Since he was his father’s only child, it makes sense he left everything to him, but it sucks because now I have to deal with him.
“Take the money, Heart,” he spits, calling me by my last name like he always does. “It’s more money than this shitty place will ever bring in.”
“I’ve said it before,” I say, moving on to the next table, refusing to give him more attention than necessary, “and I’ll say it again. My business isn’t for sale. In six months, I’ll be moved out, but Heart’s Coffeehouse and Bakery will still be here. If you don’t like it, take me to court.” We both know he’ll lose, which is why he hasn’t done it yet.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, we’re closed.” I glance up and glare at him, making it clear it’s time for him to go.
“Fine, but this isn’t over,” he says, heading back toward the door. Before he can open it, though, the door swings open, and in walks a sexy-looking Hayden, dressed in a black T-shirt and dark wash jeans, the same clothes I left him in a few hours ago.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, pleasantly surprised. When he dropped me off earlier, we didn’t make any plans for tonight.
He opens his mouth to answer, but before the words come out, Benitez says, “Hopefully to talk some sense into you.”
I’m confused by his words, but when I glance at Hayden, he doesn’t look confused. Instead, he looks… shocked and almost scared.
“Mr. Shea, it’s good to see you,” Benitez says, extending his hand to shake Hayden’s.
Shea… that can’t be his last name. That’s the last name of the asshole I kicked out and called the cops on for harassing me when he wouldn’t leave after I told him under no circumstances would I let him buy me out so he can turn this building into a stupid spa.
No, that can’t be Hayden’s last name because his last name is… and then it hits me. I don’t know his last name. How the hell do I not know his last name? Brody’s is Fields. Hayden’s is…
“What’s your last name?” I blurt out.
Benitez looks at me like I’ve grown two heads, but I ignore him.
Hayden swallows thickly. “I can explain.”
“Is your last name Shea?” I ask, needing him to tell me it’s not. Needing for the thoughts now swirling through my head to be wrong. “Is it?” I bark.
“Of course—” Benitez begins, but I cut him off.
“Get out. Now!”
He rolls his eyes. “Good luck,” he says as he exits, leaving Hayden and me alone.
“Is your last name Shea?” I ask again, hearing the shakiness in my voice. “Is your dad…” I swallow thickly, not wanting to finish my question but knowing I have to. “Is your dad Joseph Shea?”
“Bree,” he breathes, a pained expression on his face. “Please let me explain.”
“Answer my question.”
“Please—”
“Answer it!”
“Yes, that’s my last name, and yes, Joseph is my dad, but it’s not what you think.”
Oh, my God. My heart cracks behind my rib cage as I think about the past few weeks, how we met… When he came in here and asked if I was the owner.
“When were you going to tell me?” I ask, getting choked up at the thought that everything between us has been a damn lie. From the moment we met, he had an agenda, and it wasn’t to date me.
“Can we sit down and talk, please?” he asks slowly like I’m a rabid animal he has to be cautious around.
“I don’t need to sit. I need you to answer me. Did you know your dad is trying to get rid of my coffeehouse so he can build a freaking spa here?”
He nods, and my stomach roils.
“And when you came in here the first time, was it to convince me to sell out?”
Another nod, and it takes everything in me not to throw up.
“Get out.”
“Bree, please.” His eyes, now glassy with emotion, beg, but I can’t hear him. I don’t want to hear him. I’m too hurt. I feel too betrayed. And then it hits me.
“Does Brody know?”
“Bree, please.”
His non-answer tells me everything I need to know—they both know.
“Get out, right now. We’re done.”
“Bree—”
“Out! Now!” I yell, stalking toward the door and swinging it open.
His gaze darts back and forth between me and the door, debating whether he should listen. Thankfully, he does, and with a sigh—and a piece of my heart—he walks out the door and out of my life.