Chapter 23
Chapter 23
I stumble through the following day at High Tea, dragging my heart with a big, fake smile painted on my face. Thank goodness it’s Sunday, our busiest day, so I don’t get too much spare time to wallow in my abject misery.
I heard Jason come home late last night as I lay in my bed, my brain whirring. I tried to sleep. I think I managed about an hour or two sometime around three. Today, I’m really a zombie masquerading as a girl, with bags under my eyes I could use to go away to college.
Although Cameron told me last night not to let love slip through my fingers, I know I lack the courage to tell Jason how I feel.
I mean, how can I ever tell him? My friend, my roommate. The guy who’s never lost for a date on a Saturday night. Or any night of the week, when I think about it.
It’ll mean the end of our friendship, the end of us sharing an apartment. And I’m doing my very best to hold onto it all right now.
I lock the door once the last customers of the day have left and trudge slowly to the kitchen. I’m surprised to find both Bailey and Paige, talking in quiet tones by the walk-in pantry.
“Hi,” I say as I walk over to them. “When did you two get here? I didn’t expect either of you today.”
“Sophie! It’s great to see you,” Paige says. “We snuck in a few minutes ago.”
I stand back and take in her girth. By the looks of her, I can’t imagine Paige being able to “snuck” anywhere. “Large” doesn’t begin to describe her belly, but then she is carrying a set of twins in there, which is something so incredible and beautiful, I find my eyes welling with tears.
There’s an outside chance I’m a touch overly emotional today.
“It’s great to see you, too,” I manage once I’ve collected myself enough to speak. “How are the babies cooking in there?”
“They seem to have settled down into more of a groove, now, but oh, my back kills me by the end of the day. And look at my feet!”
I notice her feet are swollen up like a couple of pink grapefruits.
She places her hand on her belly. “They tell me it’s perfectly normal when you’re in your final trimester.”
Bailey smiles at her friend and business partner. “You’re a total trooper, Paige. How’s today gone?” she asks me.
I want to tell her it’s been like wading through a quagmire of thick, unrelenting heartache with every step I take, and that I’ve had to fight not to tear up whenever anyone says a kind word to me. I don’t. Mainly because that would be melodramatic and totally inappropriate in the workplace, but also because the last thing I want to do is go into the whole Jason saga with my bosses.
Or anyone, really.
“It’s been a good day. Busy, but not full. You know, the usual Sunday,” I reply.
Bailey and Paige share a look before Bailey says, “Shall we take a seat? We’ve got to discuss some things.”
A few moments later, the three of us sit around one of the tables.
Bailey lets out a puff of air. “Look, Sophie. There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to come out with it.”
A sense of impending doom seeps up my legs as I look from Bailey to Paige and back again. “Okay.”
She clears her throat and continues. “We all know High Tea hasn’t been doing well. The thing is, Paige and I met with our accountant last week.” She looks at Paige, her face creased with emotion. “We’re . . . We’ve got to . . .” She breaks off.
“What Bailey’s trying to say is that our accountant is concerned that things haven’t improved at High Tea. She suggested we cut our losses and close it down.”
My eyes grow wide and my voice is breathless as I repeat, “Close High Tea down? Y-you want to close High Tea down?”
“You’re doing a fantastic job, honey, so please know this is nothing to do with you,” Bailey says. “But with the way this place is sucking money from the café, we decided we need to listen to her advice.”
My pulse is about to get a speeding ticket it’s racing so darn fast. “But-but I came up with a proposal. I have a plan to save High Tea.”
“We know you do, and it’s such a great idea.” As she looks at me, Bailey’s expression is one of sadness and regret. “We’re so sorry, Sophie. We know how much this job means to you.”
My job. I’m losing my job. For some inexplicable reason, that fact had evaded me until this moment.
“We’ve got bookings for the next week which we will honor, but we plan on the fourteenth being High Tea’s last day.”
“The fourteenth,” I echo. “Last day.”
“We want you to know you’ve done a fantastic job, Sophie. Of course your barista job at the café is totally safe,” Bailey says. “We’ll write you an awesome reference if you decide to look for another manager’s position elsewhere, and we’ll pay you out to the end of the month. It’s the least we can do.”
The least you can do is keep High Tea open so my entire life doesn’t completely implode.
I don’t say it. I’m too numb.
Later, I sit in my car, staring at the blank wall of the parking building in front of me.
High Tea is closing down.
No more Weekend Manager’s job.
Just as it always is when anything happens in my life, big or small, my first thought is to share this devastating news with Jason. A lump forms in my throat as I realize I can’t share this with him. I don’t trust myself to be around him, let alone sob on his broad shoulders. I would end up blurting out my feelings, make a total fool of myself, and then life as I know it would be gone.
And it’s already halfway gone as it is.
So, thirty minutes later, I find myself pulling up outside Darcy and Erin’s apartment. It’s five o’clock on a damp and miserable rainy Sunday, so the chances both Darcy and Erin are home, curled up in front of Netflix, is pretty high.
I compose myself as best I can before I press the buzzer, and wait until I hear a familiar voice say, “Darcy and Erin’s Morgue. You stab ’em, we slab ’em.”
I go to laugh at my friend’s overdone joke, but it comes out more as a half-choked sob than anything resembling real laughter. “Hi, it’s me,” I say, but it sounds weird, strangled, like I’ve been possessed by the spirit of Fozzy Bear with a cold.
“Look, if you’re that weirdo from yesterday, wanting to inspect our refrigerator to make sure it’s cold enough, you can take a leap off a cliff. A very high one.” The static disappears, and I know Darcy’s hung up.
I press the button again. This time when she answers, I’m better prepared. “Darce, it’s me, Sophie.”
“Oh, thank goodness! I thought it was someone else. I’ll buzz you in.”
The door pops open and I push through it. I climb the two flights to their apartment, and by the time Darcy swings her door open, my resolve to stay strong has well and truly left the building. I crumple into a flood of tears.
“Soph, babe. What’s going on?”
“I’ve-I’ve lost my job,” I splutter.
“Oh, Sophie. That’s terrible.” She wraps her arm around me and leads me into the living room where Erin is looking at me, concern written across her face.
“What’s happened?” she asks in alarm.
I plunk myself down heavily on the sofa, still warm from where the girls had been sitting only moments before. I look up at the TV and see a paused episode of Gilmore Girls , the actresses’ familiar faces beaming out at me.
Darcy sits on one side of me as Erin perches on the other.
“Tell us what happened,” Darcy says.
So, I tell them about the impending demise of High Tea. Well, in between sobs, that is.
“Oh, honey, that’s terrible,” Erin says.
Darcy shakes her head. “And you’d done all that research and put that awesome proposal together, too.”
“They were really nice about it, and they said they’ll pay me out to the end of the month. They said I can stay on as a barista at the café, but maybe I should find another job? Don’t go back, and all that.” I swallow as the reality of what losing High Tea really means hits me in the chest. “Oh, gosh. My siblings will force me into one of those internships. I’ll have to move back home.”
Darcy’s hand flies to her mouth. “No!”
Erin shakes her head. “You don’t have to do that. You’re a fully grown woman. You can find another job, no problem. You’re amazing. And if you move back home, you’ll miss Jason too much.”
Jason . I scrunch my eyes shut at the mention of his name, only for them to ping open a moment later when Darcy reaches across me to whack Erin on the arm. “Shut up, Erin!”
Erin’s eyes bulge. “What? What did I say? She will miss Jas. They’ve been roomies for ever . They’re as thick as thieves, as Mum says. Whatever ‘thick’ means. You know, I’ve never really understood that expression? What does a ‘thick thief’ look like, anyway?”
Darcy glares at her. “Not helping right now, Erin.” She rubs my back as I keep my eyes lowered.
“What? Why?” Erin’s tone turns to exasperation when she says, “Will someone please tell me what’s going on here?”
I lift my eyes to hers and let out a puff of air. It’s time to come clean. “I’ve got a bit of a crush on Jason.” I bite my lip as I wait for her response.
She surprises me. “A crush? Is that what you kids are calling it these days?”
“Erin, you’re only six and a half months older than Sophie,” Darcy protests.
Erin ignores her. Her voice is soft when she says, “It’s love, isn’t it, Soph? You love Jason.”
A deep and true warmth spreads through my chest, and I nod as I try in vain to swallow that darn persistent lump in my throat. “How-how did you know?”
She lifts a shoulder. “I’ve known for ages.”
It’s my eyes’ turn to bulge. “You have?”
She nods. “Oh, yeah. It’s as obvious to me as balls on a pig.”
Darcy pulls a face. “Erin, that’s gross.”
“What? I work for a sports team. Jocks, every last one of them. You think some of that doesn’t rub off onto me? You knew, too, right, Darce?”
“Only because Sophie told me.”
“And you didn’t think to share that with your bestie-slash-roommate?”
“I couldn’t. I promised not to. And anyway, shouldn’t we be focusing on Sophie here?”
I give them both a watery smile. “It’s okay, girls. I’m probably more comfortable talking about pigs’ balls, anyway.” My attempt at humor has my friends smiling. But it becomes clear they’re not done with me yet.
“How long have you known you’re in love with him?” Erin asks.
My chest aches as I think of Jason. “It’s been creeping up on me for so long, it’s hard to say.”
“But you feel best when you’re with him, when it’s just the two of you together, hanging out or having fun. Right?” Erin asks.
I nod. My mind flashes to all the time we spend together: playing video games, chatting over drinks, even watching rugby together. I feel like myself around him in a way I’ve never felt around another guy before. I can be me. And it feels so right.
Erin places her hand on my arm. “Honey? Have you talked to Jason about how you feel?”
“Talk to him? Are you insane ?” I snap. “Sorry, sorry. I know he doesn’t feel the same way.”
Erin’s eyebrows ping up. “Do you actually know that?”
I nod grimly. “I do. He’s dating Megan, anyway. They went to Chez Pierre.”
“Chez Pierre? Ouch,” Darcy says.
I slump my shoulders. “See? It’s a hopeless situation.”
Erin shifts her position on the sofa arm. “If you’re not going to talk to Jason about it, what are you planning to do?”
“Sit it out and hope it passes quickly.”
“Treat him like he’s the flu,” Darcy says.
“Like the flu,” I echo. “Oh, and definitely avoid him, particularly when he’s in nothing but a towel.”
“Oh, I knew that would happen one day. Didn’t I always say that? Inevitable,” Darcy says.
“What did you do about Cameron?” Erin asks.
“I put him out of his misery last night. I had to. How could I date him knowing I was in love with someone else? It wouldn’t be right.”
“You made the right call,” Erin says softly. She springs up. “I’m getting you a drink. Chardonnay, I assume?”
I nod. “A super large one, please.”
A glass or three later (not that I’m telling), conversation eventually turns from Jason back to the fate of my job at High Tea.
“Why don’t you go out with a bang? Give it all you’ve got?” Darcy suggests.
“Yes! That would be amazing,” Erin confirms.
“Go out with a bang? You mean go postal and blow High Tea up?” I reply with a sardonic smile.
“Well, there’s always that as a last resort,” Erin jokes. At least, I think it’s a joke. Right now, my judgment is seriously impaired by the amount of emotional upheaval I’m going through. And the Chardonnay. Definitely the Chardonnay.
“It means do what you suggested in your proposal. Get some music in there, lighten the mood, bring the Cozy Cottage feel to the place,” Darcy says. “Isn’t that what you told them was missing?”
“I’d have to hire musicians and do a bunch of stuff. They’ll never go for it.” I shake my head, feeling thoroughly depleted.
“They will if it costs them nothing,” Darcy says, her eyes bright. “I’ve got an idea.”