Chapter 20
Olivia
Now
I’m popping two ibuprofens into my mouth when Carmello walks into the back room.
He grabs the water bottle off the counter, hands it to me, watches as I wash them down.
He was outside for a while, and I tried my hardest not to wonder what he was talking about with Teddy’s mom.
Has he told her that I’m here? Would he? Does it matter? “What’s up?” I say.
“I’m sorry about the way I was acting earlier,” he says.
“Yeah? What was that? You and I were just joking over me talking to Teddy at the front-of-house then suddenly you were being weird,” I say. “This that hot-and-cold thing again?”
Carmello shakes his head. “It’s just…Teddy…he has anxiety and he’s usually slow to interact with new people, so seeing him with you caught me off guard.”
For a second I stress about what to say. What would a parent want to hear after telling someone they have a six-year-old with anxiety? But then I realize I shouldn’t overthink it.
“It’s all right,” I say. “But if I’m going to be here for a while, I won’t ignore him.”
“I wouldn’t want you to,” he says. “And if you’re going to be here for a while, I hope you don’t want me to ignore it when you’re not feeling well. I’m too stubborn for that.”
He is, but the words are too tender for my heart.
He’s moved on and wants to stay that way, so I need to move on too.
“Fine, but don’t bother me too much about it.
It’s just stomach problems,” I say, remembering that it was his mom’s code for don’t ask any more questions.
He doesn’t know about my endometriosis, and I don’t want to explain right now.
Carmello examines me for a moment, and I know he wants to press, but I’m glad he doesn’t.
“I’d have to envision it better,” he says, “so maybe we try a small trial run of the date night? Get Zeke to help spread the word. He has a wedding to DJ this week. I’m sure there will be some people there searching for love or whatever.”
That sends a jolt up my spine. I squeal and almost launch myself into his arms before controlling the urge. “I know you’re nearly sick of me,” I say, “but as proof of my good intentions: after I show you this can be a success, I’ll sign my shares over and you’ll be rid of me.”
“Okay,” he says. “But what are you getting out of helping me? Serotonin? Is it really just because you love this place? Because you think you owe it to my mother? I have to confess, she didn’t even want to think about a social night years ago.
It was my idea, and I think she messaged you to brainstorm because she felt bad about the dying bit. ”
The lighthearted way he says it is so Celia coded, but I know the man in front of me feels anything but light about what happened.
I want to reach for him and have to stop myself after our physical distance agreement last night.
“I think after I help you with this, I’ll have Celia’s blessing to move on from this place,” I say, the words slipping from my mouth.
But I don’t take them back, and Carmello doesn’t ask what I mean.
“But you could cut me a check for the work I’m doing while I’m here if it helps ease your guilt over me helping you. ”
“I’ve already been putting money aside since you started cooking in the kitchen,” he says.
“Slide it into my pocket before I leave,” I say with a smile. “Okay?”
“Okay, O.” He breathes out. “Just…thanks for everything.”
“I’m just glad you said yes for date nights,” I say, “because while you were bringing Teddy outside, I prepped everyone in the kitchen for the idea.”
He sighs, but I can see his mouth curving up on one side. “Well, I guess that’s one less thing I have to do today.”
“See? We’re such a good team already,” I say.
***
The door is propped open, and the smell of cocoa butter is strong enough to pull in a person that was just passing by.
But anyone who’s like me will be extra enticed by the sound of someone singing Whitney Houston from inside.
I know it’s Vanessa Thompson’s full voice I hear before I enter Wildly Green and see her swaying while whisking something up in a wooden bowl.
The spot looks different in daylight during normal business hours.
Modern with a colorful touch. Huge pots on the floor with plants and fresh herbs.
Flowers everywhere. Customers are moving to the music while checking out products on the shelves like it’s a record store instead.
I’m taking notes with my business eye about what’s making them so comfortable.
When I spot teenagers giggling and trying to sneak pictures with their phones, I realize Issac Jordan is here.
Not every day do you see a man as famous as he is sweeping the floor.
When Laniah walks out of a room behind him, he snatches her from around the waist, pulling her close.
She laughs but doesn’t resist his kisses.
A while back, the two of them made headlines when they announced they were dating.
Childhood best friends who finally gave in to their feelings for each other.
I remember being swept up in their love story, giggling and kicking my feet whenever Issac mentioned her in a viral video.
They still seem very much in love, and that makes me long for a lot of things.
“You two stop that,” Vanessa calls out. “There’s a customer waiting.”
Laniah bites her lip, hiding her face shyly against Issac’s chest. He smiles sheepishly at me. They pull apart and he kisses her cheek, then moves toward the front of the store.
“Hi,” she says as I walk toward her. “Sorry about that. Are you Olivia Jones?”
“Don’t apologize,” I say, and point to the mess at the top of my head. I couldn’t bother fixing it this morning with my endo hitting hard. “Yes, and I could definitely use your help.”
She gestures to the swivel chair in front of her and asks if she can touch my hair once I’m seated.
“My mom told me you came in yesterday,” she says as she examines my scalp.
Her gorgeous wedding ring gleams in the sunlight, and I just got divorced but I still feel a tad dreamy looking at it.
“She was right about your hair looking healthy. You take good care of it.”
“Someone has to,” I say. “But wait. Are y’all trying to lose money here or…?”
“We just don’t like to scam people,” she says with a small laugh. “But I’m definitely sending you home with stock. Don’t you worry.”
I meet her eyes in the mirror. “So, are good ethics a crucial part of your business model?”
“Why do I feel like you’ve got some questions for me that don’t involve hair care?” she asks, her tone playful.
I smile at her. “I can pay you a consulting fee.”
“You remind me of my husband,” she says. “Quippy and quick with it.”
“Maybe that means we’d make good friends too,” I say, and she doesn’t deny it.
***
While Laniah tests different products in my hair, we talk about the highs and lows of making Wildly Green an experience.
When I tell her about wanting to make sure Carmello doesn’t go past capacity with his workload, I think of Teddy’s sweet face and the time they get to spend together the way the restaurant is set up now.
“He has a son,” I say, “and he already does a lot by himself now that his own mom’s not there to bear some of the weight.”
“Well, my mom, Lex, and I definitely get overwhelmed, but we manage by anticipating the basic needs of our clients,” Laniah says.
“For example, we just recently started giving away those small bags of samples that people can try ahead of their appointments with me. It’s helped a lot to see how they react to some of our more popular product mixes.
” She combs something through my hair then taps my shoulder excitedly.
“Okay, what if the whole menu for date night is just sampler combos? Our clients talk to each other while they’re here, people share their custom orders on social media too.
The word of mouth through comparison has definitely helped build interest and generate profit.
I think having small bites and desserts, charcuterie-board style, could be a talking point because people would be able to sample all the different foods you offer and talk to each other about what they like. ”
“And it’d definitely be less time-consuming than full-course meals,” I say. She told me Issac is quick with it, but she came up with an idea within seconds that’s giving me the good tingles. “You’re brilliant. Definitely giving you a consulting fee.”
“How about you buy some skin-care products and we call it even for today?” she says.
When I agree, she starts massaging oil into my scalp.
It feels so relaxing, something about it helps with the pressure in my stomach.
She clears her throat. “And may I just say, as someone who is obsessed with food, but has restrictions because of my chronic illness, it would be nice to go to a restaurant where I might be able to have small bites of things I crave without worrying about how it’ll affect me. ”
After she says it, she averts her gaze, and I wonder if she thought she said too much.
Issac is open about his life on social media, but he calls her his hermit crab.
I remember when I first learned about Laniah’s chronic kidney disease from an article online and random people would comment on pictures of them saying their relationship was doomed to fail because of it.
I’m happy to see it looks like they’re thriving, and she feels safe enough to tell me this.
And mostly, I understand exactly what she means.
“I didn’t even consider that. I have endometriosis, so I have to watch what I eat too,” I say. “I think a lot of people will appreciate this idea. And I appreciate you.”
“Is that why you’ve been clutching at your stomach the whole time?” she asks. “Endo?”
“You noticed?” I say.
“You’re in my chair,” she says. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”
I can tell she means it genuinely, but I say, “That’s okay. You’ve been too kind already. I’ll grab green tea after this and cuddle up for the night.”
She shakes her head and calls Issac over. “Babe, would you mind grabbing us green tea at Schastea before they close?”
“Ginger cubes on the side?” he asks.
She gets on her tiptoes for a kiss. “Yes, please.”
I feel like I’m spying on them during an indecent moment as I watch them tap kiss through the mirror.
But it’s mostly the way they look at each other.
I haven’t witnessed many long-lasting relationships in my life, but I think they have the kind of longevity my parents have.
Issac looks at Laniah like she’s the sun in his sky.
I think maybe Carmello looked at me like that before too.