15. Why Didnt You Tell Me It Sold?
15
WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME IT SOLD?
Mara
I was carrying an armful of comics out of my storeroom on Tuesday afternoon when my phone rang. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked the caller I.D.
Dad.
I sighed, but I answered it. “Hi.”
I set the stack of comics on the counter.
“A friend just sent me a link to an article announcing that Destiny is selling Stel-Wood.” My dad’s voice seethed with anger. “The news floored me, Mara. Absolutely floored me. The worst part is, he assumed I already knew since it was announced a week ago. Why didn’t you bother to tell me at lunch on Sunday?”
“I—I—” I sat down hard on the stool behind the counter. She’d actually sold Stel-Wood? I thought she was still shopping it around. How had I missed hearing about the sale?
I was happy for her, of course, but the news left me feeling hollow. I should have been celebrating with Destiny rather than sitting here listening to my dad berate me. In another life, that’s exactly what I’d be doing right now.
“All you talked about was that ridiculous movie director you met. Why can’t you spend as much mental energy thinking about your career as you do about some man you hardly know? This is your future, young woman! Get your priorities straight!”
Anger flared through me and I pulled my phone away from my ear to stare at it. I’d only mentioned Ford once, when Mom asked why I wasn’t wearing jeans. But it always came back to this with my dad. He thought I’d screwed up by opening Ghost of a Chance and he wouldn’t stop harassing me about it. Why didn’t I mention I knew Destiny wanted to sell? Because I knew this was the reaction I’d get!
Instead of letting him berate me some more, I gave him the contrite-sounding, “Sorry,” I knew he wanted. Maybe it would shut him down.
He let out a huff of frustration. “What’s worse is that there wasn’t a single mention of you in the entire article. It called her the sole owner of the business. How could you throw away your partnership like that? You flushed years of sweat equity down the drain. All you have to show for it is a failing store. I knew you’d left Stel-Wood, but I never dreamed you’d been stupid enough to turn over your share of the company.”
As I reached out to flip the sign on the door from “back in five minutes” to “open,” his choice of words smacked into me and I froze. I knew he’d be upset about the sale, but that didn’t make his evisceration any easier to bear. He always attacked me and my sibs when we failed to meet his impossible standards of perfection.
Inhaling deeply, I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to shake off his hurtful words. But with just a few well-chosen jabs, he had me feeling like a helpless twelve-year-old again, showing him the B+ I’d gotten on my history quiz. In his eyes, that grade was proof of pure laziness.
“I can’t believe you just called me stupid,” I said as I stomped back toward the counter.
“Someone has to. If you’d stayed the course, you’d be cashing in on that deal. Instead, you’re killing yourself working sixty-hour weeks at that store.”
My stride hitched slightly at that accurate hit. More like eighty when you counted my freelance coding work, but that still didn’t match the ninety-hour weeks I used to pull. “You’re mistaken if you think I wouldn’t have been working crazy long hours with Destiny. We poured everything into Stel-Wood.”
“The difference being, when you were with Destiny, you loved what you were doing. Now you don’t.”
His words punched into me, making my chest tighten. The man was on a roll with these well-placed blows. He was right, and each fact he rattled off struck right to the heart. I’d loved working with Destiny. Loved starting our own company. Loved it so much that it had never felt like work. Even now, my favorite parts of the day were when I wrote code to help make ends meet. Still, it hurts to hear I told you so . “You know, as my dad, you’re supposed to be supportive. Gloating doesn’t fit the job description.”
“I’m also supposed to let you know when you’re screwing up, and you happen to be doing it on a world-class level. If they had an Olympic event in screwing up, you’d take the gold.”
My throat tightened. I couldn’t speak a word as tears welled. Finally, I was able to squeeze the air out of my lungs. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll treasure your words forever.” I shut my eyes and covered them with my hand. “I have to go. I have a customer,” I lied.
“I didn’t hear the chimes,” he said, calling me out.
Frak .
I strode back to the door and reached up to smack the chimes, sending them into an angry frenzy. “Was that loud enough for you?” I snapped. “Bye.”
I ended the call and marched back to my register as I dashed my hand against my cheek to wipe away my tears. I leaned against the counter with my back to the door and stared at the Wonder Woman poster directly in front of me without really seeing it. Instead, I mentally replayed my father’s words.
He’d gone for the jugular today. He hadn’t been this angry with me since the day I’d told him I was leaving Stel-Wood Gaming Studios to open Ghost of a Chance. Stel-Wood had been heavily in debt at that point. Dad had railed against my decision, telling me I was making a huge mistake by leaving my business and my career. I’d told him it would be a financial strain, but that I had to do it to keep Chance’s dream alive.
He’d said I was on my own. Where the hell had he thought I’d gotten the money from, if not by giving up my half of Stel-Wood?
Why did I still let him get to me this way? He’d said hurtful things like that to me often enough in the past that I should be immune to them by now.
Apparently, I wasn’t.
Having my dad harangue me was at the top of my list of perfectly terrible ways to start my work week. At least things could only improve, right? Although, with my luck, I’d check my social media and discover some cyber stalker had a vendetta against me.
Maybe I’d even get my own supervillain who’d try to bring me down. “My own Lex Luther. Or maybe the Borg,” I muttered. Then again, I already had my dad and Doug vying for the role.
Zephyr glanced up at me. When he realized that I wasn’t talking to him, he returned to staring at the front door. Clearly, he was eager for a customer to arrive. My dog loved each and every one of them.
Dad’s call left me stunned. Conceptually speaking, I’d known what I’d be giving up when I’d left Stel-Wood. Destiny and I had developed a great game. I knew it would be a hit. Even so, witnessing her success felt more like a blow than a cause for celebration. Destiny was a millionaire, and I was struggling to keep afloat. It hurt a lot more than I’d expected.
“Let it go,” I said. I’d made this decision over a year ago. I had to live with my choices. If I had regrets, then it was up to me to make new decisions to improve my life. I couldn’t simply obsess about the past. That kind of thinking was destructive. I needed to focus on the present and look to the future.
Pep talk time. There were loads of good things in my life. I hadn’t hit rock bottom. I had my health, right? And a great dog. And my own business. Things could be worse. I had a roof over my head, there were currently no natural disasters here in Pittsburgh, and although Doug was an ass, he wasn’t a supervillain set on destroying me. He was nothing more than an annoying ex-boyfriend my friends and I had outmaneuvered.
“Mischief managed.” I let out a snort of laughter as I groaned at myself. I was such a nerd.
The door chimed, and I whirled around to see Ford bathed in sunlight as he strode into my shop.
When he shot me a sexy grin, little bubbles of happiness effervesced in my chest, and my smirk turned into a smile. My dismal day had suddenly taken an about-face.
Ford clutched a large, brown paper bag bearing the logo of the local mom-and-pop grocery store, and my gaze lingered on his flexed bicep peeking out from the sleeve of his pale-blue shirt. Ford Ross was one fine-looking man. Even better, he was great to talk to. The perfect pick-me-up for a seriously crappy day.
Stuffing down those lingering tendrils of devastation, I put on my game-face and cocked my head to one side. “On your way home from doing some grocery shopping?”
“Nope. I wanted to surprise you with lunch. Don’t let the grocery bag fool you. I didn’t buy you a premade sandwich. I actually made something for you myself.”
I stared at him, flummoxed. “You made me lunch?”
“I was inspired by an excellent roast beef and basil panini I ate while I was in L.A.” He opened the bag, and my eyes widened as he pulled out plates and foil-wrapped packages that he neatly arranged on my counter. “I did my best to recreate it. Dante even loaned me his panini press. By the way, I moved out of my sister’s guest room and into my house. It’s still mostly empty, but I’m having some furniture delivered tomorrow.”
I could only stare at him with a mixture of awe and relief. The man swept through my door and, with the flick of a hand—or a grocery bag—changed my awful day into something much better.
Ford set out two bottles of water and then fixed me with an uncertain gaze. “I hope you haven’t already eaten. You mentioned you eat lunch late because afternoons are quiet.”
My heart swelled. He’d planned all this just for me. I tried to contain the broad smile that wanted to split my face but only succeeded in tamping it down a degree or two. Everything about me softened in response to him... my mood, my tense jaw—my heart... It all seemed to melt. “I’m starving. You making me lunch is so…unreal.” Warmth blossomed in my chest. “These sorts of things never happen to me. It's like I'm in someone else's life.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Then we need to change that. I wanted to do something nice for you. You’ve been a huge help to me. Besides, you never take any time off. As far as I can tell, the only days your store is closed are Sunday and Monday.”
My eyes welled with tears, the happy kind, which was ridiculous. I gave myself a brutal mental shake, not wanting an over-the-top reaction to his kindness freaking him out. I cleared my throat as I tried to regain my composure. “And that’s when I get all my chores done. You know. Laundry. Dishes. Groceries. That sort of thing.” Babbling. I was babbling. I snapped my mouth shut.
“Then I’m glad I brought you lunch. That’s one less thing for you to worry about.” He nudged one of the plates toward me.
With fumbling fingers, I unwrapped the warm, foil bundle. The delicious scents of garlic, basil, cheese, and roast beef hit me full force, making my mouth water. “This smells like heaven.”
“Tell me how it tastes.”
I bit into it.
He watched me as I chewed, as though trying to gauge my reaction. It made me self-conscious, so I closed my eyes and focused my sandwich.
Perfectly toasted bread. Warm, flavorful cheese. And that basil—so awesome. This panini was delicious. The moment I swallowed, my eyes opened and I found him still staring at me. “I do declare, Mr. Ross,” I said, using my best southern belle imitation. “This is one of the best sandwiches I’ve ever tasted.”“Shucks, ma’am.” He glanced away as he faked a bashful response.
I was still grinning as I took a swig of water. I casually leaned against the counter, trying to look a little less overwhelmed than I felt. “Sorry to make you stand while you eat. We can’t go to the back room because I need to keep an eye on the store in case someone comes in. If you want, I can grab you a stool from back there.”
“No need. But if you want customers to come in, you might want to flip over your sign so it reads, ‘Open.’”
I gave a yelp and darted to the door to change the sign. So much for looking cool. Dad must have rattled me so much I’d forgotten to do it.
I headed back to the counter and picked up my panini. “This sandwich is delicious. Is this the kind of thing you’re learning how to make in Dante’s class?”
“I picked up some techniques from him. Now that I have a couple of classes under my belt, I’m starting to get confident enough to try new things.” His slow smile warmed me, and I felt a flush rise up my neck. “Thanks for being my guinea pig—and for inspiring me to make the effort.”
I playfully fluttered my hand as though trying to fan my face and put on my southern belle voice again. “I do declare, I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“No. Only you.”
My eyes snapped to his, and I suddenly found myself trapped by his gaze. I seemed to be falling into his eyes. I’d already noticed how blue they were, but I’d never let myself stare into them this way before. It was a heady experience. His irises were rimmed with a darker blue, but flecks of lighter blue lightened them toward the center, like twin vortexes. I felt those tiny whirlpools pulling me in... sweeping away all my resistance.
Resistance is futile.
I was such a ridiculous nerd.
I yanked my eyes away. I wasn’t sure where to look instead. All I knew was that continuing to gaze into Ford Ross’s mesmerizing blue eyes was far too risky.
Besides, I was probably reading too much into this surprise lunch.
The lunch that he’d made.
And delivered to me.
On second thought, maybe I wasn’t reading too much into this. Maybe I had this exactly right.
I glanced at Ford again and found him watching me. He took a step closer and set his panini next to mine on the counter. “Now that you know I won’t kill you with my cooking, I was hoping you’d agree to join me for dinner tomorrow night. At my place. I want to cook for you. I mean, an actual meal. Not just a sandwich.”
I stared at him, incredulous. “Dinner? You want to cook me dinner? For reals?” God. Did my voice have to go all squeaky like that? I must sound like I was twelve.
He cocked one eyebrow and the corners of his mouth turned up. “I’m pretty sure that’s what I said.”
I was momentarily dumbfounded, not quite able to absorb the idea. Ford Ross wanted to cook for me.
Me. The town super nerd. The opposite of a Hollywood starlet.
I hesitated, needing clarification. “Will it be a business-date or a date-date?”
His smile deepened, making my face grow warm. “I’m glad you asked. I’ll leave that choice up to you. I was hoping for a date-date, but it’s your call.”
Was it? That was a lot of responsibility. I swallowed. “A date-date, then,” I said, before I could censor myself.
Gah! Shut up, mouth.
I panicked. Why had I said that? Clearly, my mouth knew what it wanted, even if my brain didn’t. Why was I so afraid of taking this step?
Ford stared at me, an odd, confused sort of expression on his face. That’s when I realized I was nodding like one of those stupid bobble-head dolls. Apparently, it wasn’t just my voice on board with saying yes—my whole body seemed to agree, dragging the rest of me along with it, whether my brain thought dating anyone—let alone Ford—was smart or not.
“Let’s do Friday night,” he said. “Come by after you close.” He scribbled the address on my napkin.
I swallowed, still nodding.
Stupid nod. Stop it.
I stopped.
Was I really going to do this? “I—I can be there at seven thirty.”
Apparently, I was.
“Sounds perfect.” He tapped his water bottle against mine in a toast. “Here’s to our first real date.”
“Our first date.” I took a long drink of water.
What had I just done?