Chapter 6
Molly
After I get out of Collin’s truck, he creeps alongside me for a few feet until I stop on the sidewalk. The truck stops too.
I turn toward him, hands on my hips, though I’m not really annoyed. I kind of think it’s cute how nervous Collin seems about dropping me off. “You need something?”
He leans across the front seat. “Are you sure you’re okay? I’m happy to come up with you and talk to Chase and Harper. To, uh, explain everything.”
It’s kind of adorable how nervous he looks. Does he think my brother is going to try to fight him? Does he think my brother could actually win?
Spoiler alert—no matter how fit he is, Chase isn’t taking down Mr. Biceps.
I shake my head, smiling a smile that I hope exudes a confidence I don’t feel. “I’m not afraid of the big, bad brother.”
Mostly true.
It’s not that Chase is scary, but I am afraid of disappointing the one family member I haven’t yet.
“Plus,” I add, “you’ve got your own explanations to do. We’ll divide and conquer.”
Honestly, after spending the two hours or so with Collin, sticking together sounds much more appealing to me. Which is exactly why I need him to go.
I’ve got to clear my head. And I can’t do that when Collin Graham is nearby, looking at me with those deep-blue eyes, full of concern.
“If you’re sure,” he says.
“I am.” Mostly.
He looks like he’s about to say something else when a horn honks. A police car has pulled up behind him. Collin waves, trying to get the cop to go around him, but the cruiser continues to idle.
“Move along, Romeo!” the officer calls from his open window.
With a sigh, Collin waves to me and drives off. The officer tips his cowboy hat to me—because apparently, cowboy hats are the uniform here—and follows, leaving me standing alone on the sidewalk. Only when Collin’s truck turns out of sight do I realize we never exchanged phone numbers.
Kind of a big oops considering our current fake relationship status.
Despite the fact that I’d really like to get out of these boots because I think my feet are bleeding, I turn around and head in the opposite direction. Away from the loft where I stayed with Chase and Harper last night. Away from a conversation I’m not eager to have.
Collin and I agreed to tell our respective families the truth. And I will.
Soon.
Ish.
But right now, I need some time to process the day’s events before facing the judgy eyes of my older brother. And the look he gave me before he left my lunch with Brightmark promised lots of older brother judginess.
As I wander down Main Street, I’m struck again with the quaintness of Sheet Cake.
The row of historic buildings looks like it was built for a movie set.
It’s easy to see why Brightmark Studios chose to set up here in Sheet Cake.
There’s even a cute little town square with a gazebo in the center, like it was plucked straight from Stars Hollow.
I halfway expect to run into Lorelai and Rory Gilmore in the coffee shop I’ve been wanting to try.
Instead of a grumpy Luke behind the counter, I get a friendly and gorgeous barista with a baseball cap who takes my order with a smile.
While waiting for my drink, I sit at a table across from an exposed brick wall and try to catch up on comments and emails. While I’ve taken a few days’ break from social media, it has not taken a break from me. The sheer number of notifications has me wanting to throw my phone out into traffic.
Thankfully, I prepped some videos before the trip so I could just enjoy my time in Texas rather than feeling like I had to create new content constantly.
I’ve recorded a lot while I’ve been here, but only what I felt like capturing, not with any kind of strategy in mind.
For once, I wanted to just enjoy living my life without thinking what my voiceover should say or what hashtags to use.
I publish one of my drafts now, and the flood of responses is instantaneous. People love being the first to comment on videos.
Typically, I get a little rush of pleasure seeing the likes and comments and shares rack up, but today, every notification feels like another brick being loaded on my back.
This has started to bring pressure, not pleasure.
I only have a few more drafts left before I’ll have to actually film fresh content.
Why does this suddenly sound so … unappealing?
The best and fastest way to replenish my sad bank account is to create more social media content. At least, until I find out when I’ll officially start working and getting paid by Brightmark.
The little break I’ve taken, posting just once a day from content I created while back in Kansas, has been refreshing.
But if I want to be more independent, I need to start by getting my finances in order.
And that starts by getting back to making videos.
Even if that idea sounds almost as bad as being back under my dad’s thumb.
Until I took this little break, I hadn’t realized how much social media rules my life.
I thought of it as freeing because of the money, but now …
I’ve realized the cost for financial freedom has been my actual freedom.
If I want to keep making money, I have to keep running on the hamster wheel of content creation.
Stepping off the wheel has been refreshing. And enlightening. But if I don’t start actually creating new content and engaging with comments and my followers, how long until I lose traction? Social media can be pretty unforgiving.
Which is yet another reason I need this job. So I can walk away.
“One croissant breakfast sandwich and a skinny caramel latte,” the barista says, setting a plate and a ceramic mug on the table in front of me.
I happily turn off my phone without responding to a single comment. “Thank you.”
I shouldn’t be hungry after the lunch I had not too long ago. But I was too keyed up to do much more than pick at my food. It takes a lot of restraint not to shovel the croissant directly into my mouth, but I choose to be a lady with some manners.
Squinting down at the latte, I try to decipher the foam art. It looks like she attempted to make some kind of design, but I can’t for the life of me identify what it is.
“Sorry,” the barista says with a grimace. “It was supposed to be a heart. I’m still mastering this part. Foam art is harder than it looks. I figured I’d focus first on making sure things taste good.”
“Definitely the priority,” I say, tilting my head. “I can kind of see a heart. Or maybe a gun?”
She laughs. “Actually, you’re right. It does look like a gun.”
“Perfect for Texas,” I say easily.
“That’s a fair point.”
“Unless it’s a stereotype?”
“I’d say it’s fairly accurate, but I’m a Texas transplant,” she says. “I just moved here a few months ago.”
“Me too!” I say. “I’m Molly.” I hold out my hand and she gives me a firm shake.
“Kalli. So, when did you move here?”
“I guess you could say I’m still in the process of moving? Maybe.” I shrug. “It’s kind of a long story, and this happens to be the murky middle. How do you like living in Texas?”
We chat for a few minutes about the Texas vibe.
The stereotype is that everything is bigger here, and it often holds true.
Every state I’ve been to has its own culture, but Texas makes theirs a bit harder to ignore.
I notice new things every time I’ve come to visit Chase.
Like how so few people honk their horns when driving—even when they should.
Instead, half the time someone does something dumb, they’ll just wave at the other driver, who often waves right back.
Oh, and if you actually do shout “The stars at night are big and bright” in a bar, people really will absolutely clap five times and sing “Deep in the heart of Texas.” Yes, I tried it once, much to Chase’s embarrassment.
I attended one baseball game with Harper and Chase, and people shouted Stars! during the National Anthem whenever the singer sang the word. Apparently, it’s a Texas hockey thing? I didn’t even know there were hockey teams here.
By all counts, coming to Texas is, for me, a little like visiting a different planet. One with great food, friendly people, and the occasional armadillo carcass by the side of the road.
“Sheet Cake is its own little pocket of Texas, complete with small-town quirks and surprises,” Kalli says.
“The Grahams have had a massive impact. I mean, look at this place.” She spreads her arms wide, sounding awed as she looks around the shop.
“A few months ago, this was a dream in my head and a dilapidated building.”
“Wait—this place is yours?”
“Yep,” she says, pride ringing through her voice. Color rises in her cheeks. “I mean, I had some help with financing. But even more than that, it was huge having Tank Graham believe in me enough to lease the space. I just opened.”
For a moment, I’m struck with almost paralyzing envy.
I’m not sure of Kalli’s age, but she barely looks older than I am and she’s running her own business. Not a barista—the business owner.
While I’m over here just grasping at job straws and lying to hopefully secure shaky future plans. My current ship is steered by a desire to escape my dad’s control and not by a desire to be an actress.
I mean, if I’m picturing myself five years in the future, I wouldn’t be acting. Or influencing. I’m not sure what I would be doing, but I’d love to be like Kalli: to find my thing and really go for it.
Even if she had help and support, it takes a certain amount of drive and confidence in yourself to do this.
Me? I’m currently fueled more by fumes of fight or flight.
“The name, Calliope Coffee, comes from my first name, which is Kalliope with a K,” she says quickly. Probably because I haven’t responded. “But I wasn’t about to spell coffee with a K because I hate when businesses misspell names to be cute, so there you go. Sorry, I’m babbling.”