Chapter 8 – Brinley
brINLEY
“ S oooo…how was the risotto?” Eden croons as she kneels next to me. She insisted on helping me unpack the new releases at the Copper Cup today, to give herself a break from job applications.
I roll my eyes. “It was delicious, as always. Beau’s a great cook.”
“Judging by the noises coming from your room, he also has other talents.” She waggles her eyebrows.
I cringe. “Sorry. I tried to keep it down.”
“No worries. Just because I’m not getting any doesn’t mean you don’t deserve some action.”
“You could get some action if you wanted to.” Eden’s pretty and bubbly enough that she attracts attention wherever she goes. Unfortunately, bad timing and meddling brothers have kept her largely out of the dating scene.
“Let me fix my job situation first,” she says. “Then we can get to work on my love life. In the meantime, I’ve got noise-canceling headphones for when you and Beau make risotto next time.”
“Excuse me, is there anyone working here?” a familiar voice calls.
I whip my head around to see Cat and Pippa striding toward us. Shit—they couldn’t have heard me talking about Beau, could they?
“Hey, new pals,” Eden says brightly. “Did you come by because you missed me already?”
I could kiss her for acting so normal, covering for me panicking. I’m usually better at this, at pretending Beau and I have nothing to do with each other.
“That, and for some coffee,” Pippa says.
“We just did a volunteer shift at the homeless shelter, and we needed a caffeine pick-me-up.”
“Well, we’re happy to provide,” Eden declares. “Follow me, please.”
She drives right over to the café and gets behind the counter. Pippa raises a brow. “Does she work here now?”
“I’m doing unpaid labor out of boredom,” Eden explains. “I’ve been stuck sitting at my laptop, filling out a zillion job applications. I needed to do something with my body or I’d scream.”
“Can’t relate,” Pippa laughs. “Sitting lazily at my laptop is my favorite thing to do.”
“You’re looking at a farm girl,” Eden says. “If I spend too much time sitting still, I hear my mom’s voice in my head yelling at me to go out and feed the chickens. That’s part of why I’m doing event planning. It’s a good mix of putting together spreadsheets and setting tables.”
“Impressive,” Cat says, smiling. “I meet a lot of people in events working for the Walsh Foundation. I’ll keep an ear open for you.”
“I appreciate that! Now, what can I get you? I hope you want dripped coffee, because Brinley hasn’t taught me how to use the espresso maker.”
Cat and Pippa exchange glances and I laugh. “Scoot, Eden. I have cappuccinos to make.”
Eden joins my friends on the other side of the counter while I get working on their drinks. I’m glad that she’s gotten along with them so easily. Maura even quietly suggested adding her to the group chat.
“So, how’s the Peppermint investigation going?” Eden asks. “I want to know everything.”
Pippa rolls her eyes. “Don’t remind me. I’m tired of hearing about that.”
“The way the guys are acting, you’d think Peppermint was the Zodiac Killer and not just a blogger,” Cat says with uncharacteristic sarcasm. “They don’t talk about anything else. It’s become their whole personality.”
“They can’t find Peppermint quickly enough, as far as I’m concerned,” Pippa says.
My hand trembles as I reach for the milk pitcher. Shit. That isn’t good. I’d hoped that Luke and the guys would lose enthusiasm after a few days. Apparently not.
“Do you think they’re close to finding them?” Eden asks.
Pippa shakes her head. “Nope. They’ve still got a thousand guesses and no proof. Ryan mentioned they might loop in a PI, but honestly, I’ve started zoning out when he talks about it.”
Shit, shit, shit. My smile doesn’t waver, but my pulse sure as hell does.
“Hey, Eden, are you free on Friday?” Cat asks.
“Of course I’m free.” Eden laughs. “There’s literally nothing on my calendar right now except for a dentist appointment six months from now.”
“Then you should join us for family dinner at Terrace. Nate and I invited all the guys, and Maura, Pippa, and Brinley, of course. You should come and meet the guys.”
“I’ve already met Luke and Beau,” Eden says.
My breath stops as I wait for someone to ask when the hell Eden met Beau. Instead, Pippa just laughs. “Oh, man, did you hear about Beau’s family drama?”
“What drama?” I ask, genuinely puzzled.
“Ryan told me that Beau’s mom is on the warpath trying to set him up. Apparently in Italy, if you’re not married by the time you’re thirty, you bring shame to your entire family. At least, that’s what his mom says.”
“I heard she brought some gorgeous Italian woman to Toronto to tempt him into giving her grandchildren,” Cat says.
Every word hits my heart like a targeted missile.
Beau hasn’t mentioned any of this, not his mom’s meddling or the gorgeous Italian woman.
He could have warned me or confided in me.
Instead, he kept it to himself. From the other side of the counter, Eden sends me a sympathetic glance.
It’s the only silent comfort she can offer.
“Good luck to her,” Pippa says. “Beau hasn’t dated anyone for years. I doubt a sexy accent will be enough to make him settle down.”
Cat laughs. I don’t. Eden’s eyes dart between us, like she’s waiting for me to fall apart.
Instead, I set Pippa and Cat’s cappuccinos down on the counter a little more forcefully than I need to. “Can I get you anything else?”
“As much as I’d love a pain au chocolat, I should probably save room for lunch later,” Cat sighs.
Pippa slides over a credit cart. “My treat. Or should I say, Ryan’s treat. This is our shared card.”
I laugh as convincingly as I can, waving as Pippa and Cat head out to get on with their days. As soon as the door swings shut behind them, Eden grabs my hand.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say automatically. And I am. I’m always fine. Grabbing a rag, I scrub at the counter a little too hard. “Beau can have lunch with whoever he wants. We’re not public, and I don’t have any claim on him. That’s the deal.”
“But are you still good with the deal?” Eden asks quietly.
“I said I’m fine.” I toss the rag down. “Now get over here and let me teach you how to use the espresso machine.”
Because she loves me, Eden doesn’t push it further.
Instead, she very patiently lets me run her through all the different functions on the overly fancy industrial espresso machine.
It turns out, she learned just in time, because a massive group of French tourists streams into the café a few minutes later.
It takes us almost forty-five minutes to fill all their coffee orders.
The unexpected French invasion has me rushing all day, trying to keep up with the normal flow of customers. I don’t get a minute by myself to think until we’re close to closing time, which I’m grateful for, because my mind isn’t a very friendly place to be right now.
It’s 6:45 before the store is finally empty.
I instructed Eden to start straightening the books while I wipe down the tables and throw out the discarded straw wrappers littering the floor.
Once it’s quiet, my mind goes to Italy almost involuntarily.
Beau and I have our trip coming up in a couple of weeks, and frankly, I need it more than ever.
I need time alone with him in one place where none of this Peppermint mess touches us.
But can we even pull it off this year? The Peppermint investigation is heating up, Beau’s mother is circling with her Italian protégée, and I’ve got to be around for Eden while she adjusts to a new city.
The Italy trip was always risky, threatening for our friends to put together that every year Beau and I vanish at the same time.
Now, it feels more reckless than risky.
It’s been over a week since the last time Beau and I talked about the trip.
I wonder if Beau is even still planning it, or if he’s starting to think it might be a bad idea.
The idea makes my chest feel tight. God, what if he does change his mind?
What if he decides the trip isn’t worth it? If I’m not worth it?
I force myself to take a breath. I’m probably making a mountain out of a molehill here.
Just because Beau stopped talking about the trip doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to go.
Of course, I could just text him right now and ask him.
But I know I won’t. Asking would mean admitting how much I need those three days alone with him and I’m not ready to admit that to him.
The bell at the door dings, and I automatically raise my head to tell the customer we’re closing in a few minutes. I fall silent when I meet a pair of icy blue eyes.
James Keller is standing in my bookshop. He’s not a regular. I don’t think he’s ever even come here. He looks uncomfortably stiff in his tailored suit. I straighten my shoulders.
“Hi, James,” I say. “Can I help you with anything?”
His lips thin into a firm line. Then, in a polite, measured voice, he asks, “Can I speak with you privately, Brinley?”