Chapter 13 Eva
I wake at stupid o’clock.
I lie in bed beneath the warm comforter, staring at the ceiling in the dark, fidgeting with the bedsheet while trying to find some excuse to get out of seeing Aston today. Every few minutes, I turn my head to look at the clock, only to spiral even further.
Sweet dreams, Everleigh. If you need inspiration tonight, I finished twice in the shower after you left.
It’s a shame you couldn’t join me. His voice replays in my head, causing me to groan loudly in frustration.
I throw the comforter over my head, desperate to drown out his voice and the anxiety of having to face him this morning.
We never agreed on a place, only a time, but then my phone pings with a text message at the same time as the sun begins to rise.
Aston
See you at nine at the café. I promise to show up this time.
I contemplate a thumbs-up but decide against it.
I make myself an extra-strong coffee, double the shot, then continue reading my book.
The scene turns spicy when the billionaire takes her on the desk and commands her to look him in the eye while they’re screwing.
I’m living for the fact that he’s in love with her and she’s playing hard to get.
The familiar warmth spreads between my thighs, so I put the book down with a huff. The last thing I need is to be physically charged in Aston’s presence.
As much as I need a cold shower to bring my body back to reality, outside, the weather is anything but warm. It feels like another cold front hit overnight, and the last thing I want is to get sick before the wedding.
Billie is already downstairs baking, and the smell of vanilla fills the café.
Every morning, when I step inside the quiet space before customers arrive, I take a moment to relish it all.
The scent of freshly made donuts mixed with coffee brewing is like heaven on earth, and there’s nothing in the world I want more than to be here in my happy place.
Sometimes, I think about expanding and opening another store, but nerves get the better of me. What if it fails? What if I throw all my money into my business and end up without any to put a roof over my head? Let alone restore my dream house.
Argh, the spiraling only adds to my mood. I purposely inhale again, desperate for the scent to ignite my happy senses. But this morning, I feel like a truck has run over me.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Billie greets me with a lopsided grin. “You look—”
“Tired?” I sigh while scrubbing my hands under the faucet.
With my elbow, I knock the paper towel dispenser to dry my hands, and put on disposable gloves so I can help Billie with the toppings.
I get to work sprinkling chocolate flakes on the fresh batch Billie retrieved from the fryer, which has already cooled down and been iced. “I had a date last night.”
Billie jerks her head back with an incredulous stare. “A date? Well, this explains why you’re tired.”
It takes me a moment to realize what she means. The coffee is clearly not working its magic just yet. I’m not usually one to drink more than two cups a day, but today might be different.
“Oh no,” I say, shaking my head. “It didn’t end up that way. I mean, we didn’t, you know .”
“So, this date was with who exactly?”
“Dr. Wilde…” I tell her, then quickly correct myself. “I mean, Marco.”
Billie whistles. “That escalated quickly.”
I pause my movements with chocolate still in my hands. “Do you think so? There’s no rule to say we can’t date. Well, there is, but I won’t be visiting him as my doctor anymore, so technically, he doesn’t doctor me or whatever. You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I know what you mean. He won’t lose his license if you’re not his patient.”
Billie slides another tray over to me. This batch is the pineapple donuts—my absolute favorite.
The yellow glaze contains a small amount of pineapple juice, which gives it a sweet and tropical flavor.
We added it to the menu only recently, after a customer from Australia mentioned them from her childhood.
As soon as Billie heard the story, she started creating the amazing treat.
There are never any left by the end of the day, making our pineapple donuts one of our bestsellers.
I suggested we use the extra dough to make mini balls as a take-out snack item.
These are great for kids and the tourist crowd who use the town as a quick stopover on road trips.
I even designed a to-go cup as a souvenir item.
My idea was to give them a memento to remember us by, and hopefully, they’ll return or tell their friends.
“Anyway, the date kinda went well…” I trail off, unsure just how much information to reveal. “I haven’t heard from him since.”
“What do you mean ‘kinda went well’? And I don’t think him not texting you in, what”—she looks at her watch—“eight or ten hours is a problem.” Billie gasps, pointing her wooden spoon at me. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Looking for red flags.”
I huff. “I don’t look for red flags, okay? They get waved in my face, which is impossible to ignore.”
“Okay, so explain why you think it didn’t end well?”
“I never said it didn’t end well. It’s just…” I hesitate again, then blurt out, “Maddy’s older brother showed up and ruined the evening.”
Billie tilts her head in confusion. “How did he ruin it?”
“Long story,” I mutter, then exhale loudly. “He’s coming here this morning because we need to get some wedding stuff sorted. We have to have some sort of code. If I need an out, I will ask if you ordered the extra cinnamon, okay?”
“Um… sure. And then what?” Billie pokes her head near the oven door to check the last remaining batch. “Is there a reason why you would need an out?”
“It’s Maddy’s brother. I always need an out. The guy is a pain in my ass. If the code is used, tell him we need to end our meeting because I need to help with an urgent delivery issue.”
“Why don’t you just tell Maddy you don’t get along?” Billie questions like it’s no big deal. “I know she’s your best friend, surely she will understand.”
“Maddy has enough on her plate,” I answer softly, then sigh. “We’re adults. I’m sure we can get through this and then never have to see each other again.”
The oven dings again, pulling my attention to the clock. Seven o’clock on the dot. Right on cue, our regulars are gathered outside, peering in, eager to be let through the door.
I open the doors and greet Mrs. Brimsley first. She has her Yorkshire terrier, Gloria, sitting inside her purse.
Gloria is by far the most well-behaved dog I have ever met.
Not once have I heard her bark or fuss over the attention she gets for being so cute.
With a pink bow and diamanté collar, she is definitely the queen of the Brimsley household.
Mrs. Brimsley is a well-loved socialite in town. I always go out of my way to treat her nicely, so she tells her social clubs, which will bring us more business.
“Hello, my dear.” She steps into the store with a smile. “I hope you’ve got those delicious balls for me this morning.”
Thank God Maddy isn’t here, or we wouldn’t hear the end of it.
Billie ushers Mrs. Brimsley to her regular table, then returns to the espresso machine to make her nonfat latte with one decaf shot and sugar-free vanilla.
Additionally, Mrs. Brimsley requests room at the top to add cold milk and sugar.
It’s bizarre, but she tips more than 20 percent, so we don’t give a damn how odd it is.
By eight, the morning rush is well underway.
It’s Monday, so the café is busier than usual as people try to start their week with a bang.
Over the next hour, I lose track of time.
Billie is serving a customer at the counter who is so indecisive, I can see Billie’s patience being tested as she fidgets with her braids.
I quickly put together some extra take-out boxes in the back until she calls to me.
“Oh, Eva, sunshine,” Billie sings out. “You have a visitor.”
“Who?” I yell out, sucking my finger from a paper cut.
Billie pokes her head in the back with a knowing grin. “Um… a very sexy man, who you clearly didn’t describe in your story.”
“His looks have no relevance in my stories.”
A snort escapes Billie. “Uh, yes, they do. C’mon, Eva, he looks like he just walked out of GQ magazine.”
“Keep your voice down. If he hears, I’m sure he’ll find a way to use it against me.”
I’m taken aback by the fact he showed up, though, in hindsight, I wish I hadn’t made such a big deal out of yesterday. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel the need to prove a point, and I wouldn’t be standing here dreading leaving this kitchen.
“He may be sexy, but his arrogance is not.” I breathe deeply, clenching my fists tightly to ward off the nervous energy. Billie watches me with amusement before I shoot a dagger at her with my eyes. “Don’t even think about saying it.”
She raises her hands. “I said nothing of the sort.”
Aston is already sitting at a table, wearing a light blue dress shirt and dark pants.
Although he’s sans tie, he looks professional for our casual meeting.
I glance down at my green apron, ignoring the urge to call him hot to his face.
Knowing my luck, I’ll accidentally blurt it out and Aston will never let me hear the end of it.
Note to self —strangle Billie later.
“Good morning,” I say, almost choking on my words.
Aston glances up from his phone, a smirk settling on his lips. “I’m sure it is. Nine on the dot, as promised.”
I coerce a smile, desperately trying to forget about the words he whispered last night outside my apartment. With another deep breath, I take a seat across from him. A few customers are still sitting around, but Billie can manage alone.