Chapter 4 #2
As soon as he leaves, I count to ten. We close for lunch from twelve to one. Julia and I have a quick conversation in the parking lot, where I promise to tell her everything after lunch. She heads off on her bike while I usually walk.
But today?
I drive like a madwoman to Beachside Java.
Just walking through those doors starts to work its magic.
The warm, yeasty smell of fresh bread and the sizzle of the grill.
My shoulders drop an inch, and something that might be a smile tugs at my lips.
Usually, I have a whole routine before painting.
Eyes closed, deep breaths, imagining the stress shredding away like I’m a caterpillar breaking free from its cocoon.
It usually works.
Today? Maybe I just need to imagine that grilled cheese. I slide onto a stool at the bar, the familiar worn wood smooth beneath me.
Jamie emerges from the kitchen, his face lighting up when he sees me. He flips that signature swoop of blonde hair out of his eyes. “The regular?”
I nod, then scan the room for Barrie. “Is Barrie here?”
“I think so.”
Barrie has transformed this place since becoming Richard’s partner. After their wedding, she and Miles poured their hearts into Beachside Java, and it shows. Sometimes it’s almost too crowded now for my taste. A small part of me misses the quieter old days.
I wait for my grilled cheese, determined to block out the entire morning. I will not think about art galleries or creepy men or mentors. The whole stuck-in-a-bathroom-with-Seymour incident is getting locked away in the vault of things-we-never-speak-of-again.
“Hey, there!” Barrie materializes beside me, her face glowing with that particular happiness that comes from being truly content. Her smile is genuine, warming.
I lean in for a sideways hug, grateful again that I was one of the first people she met in Lakewood. Now we’re close friends, along with Grace. Though watching both of them so blissfully in love and successful in their businesses can be a bit depressing. Grace’s bridal shop is thriving.
Maybe I should go back to school, become an accountant. But even the thought of a job without creativity makes something inside me shrivel.
Jamie appears with my grilled cheese, the plate warming my hands. “Want one, boss?”
“No thanks.” Barrie gives him that winning smile of hers before turning it on me.
Uh oh. I know that look in her eyes, the one that says I’m about to ask you something important. That’s the problem with letting people get close. They learn your tells. Your weaknesses.
It’s impossible to hide anything from Barrie when she knows grilled cheese is my comfort food.
She sits quietly, waiting for me to crack. But what happened with Seymour is too humiliating to share. The waves of hatred rolling off him in that tiny bathroom aren’t something I’m used to. I’m friendly. I smile. Unlike some people. I don’t go around insulting others.
The heavenly scent of grilled bread and melted cheese hits me. “You’re just going to have to wait a second.” I close my eyes and take that first perfect bite. Pure bliss. Each bite deserves to be savored.
“Wow,” Barrie says, her voice soft with concern. “It must be bad.”
I startle back to reality, mouth full. “What’s that supposed to mean?” But of course I know exactly what it means. She can tell something’s wrong. It would be nice to talk to someone, but I’d planned to meet with her about promotion ideas.
Not to discuss the walking, talking embodiment of arrogance who’s appointed himself my mentor.
Barrie squeezes my arm, her touch gentle. “You were my first friend here. You were there for me when it all went down. You were the first to bring me a latte with all the extras after I fought a killer.”
“Pfft. Anyone would have done it.” I focus on my plate, avoiding her knowing look.
“That’s not true. In fact, I’m not sure I would have stayed if I hadn’t found a friend here. I just want to be here for you the same way. And I can tell you’re stressed.”
“Fine. I might be.” I take another huge bite, buying time. Around us, the lunch crowd streams in, conversations building into a comfortable hum.
She claps her hands together, eyes bright. “I know just what we need.”
“Hmm?” I raise an eyebrow, focused on my next bite.
“Three words. Girls. Night. Out. Me, you, and Grace. We need to catch up and share our woes.”
The tension in my shoulders eases. Our girls’ nights out are always perfect. Just the three of us, talking and laughing. I can put off working on my art another night; it’s not like anything’s happening on the canvas anyway. Maybe a night out will help clear my head. “Okay, I’m in.”
“I’ll set it up. How about at the Inn at six tonight?”
The air shifts before I hear him. It’s like my body knows he’s there, sending tingles of awareness down my spine.
Then the devil himself speaks.
“So, too busy for lunch, huh? Lots of work to do at the gallery.”
I stare straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge him, though my fingers tighten around my fork.
Barrie goes quiet beside me. I can practically hear the wheels turning in her mind, the questions forming. She breaks the awkward silence with a cheery, “Hi there, Seymour.”
“Hi, Barrie.”
His voice sounds different when he speaks to her. Normal, almost friendly. Like an actual human being. It must just be me he reserves that special tone for.
Barrie leans close, her whisper warm against my ear. “Tonight at six. I want to know everything.” Then she’s gone, abandoning me to face Satan’s favorite son alone.
Perfect.
Then he has the audacity to claim Barrie’s vacant stool, his presence impossible to ignore. Thankfully, I’m almost finished. I take the last bite, savoring it despite my unwanted company.
“You know, I’m a big boy. You can just say, ‘No thanks. I have plans for lunch.’ Or, ‘Not today. I want to eat alone.’“
I turn to face him fully, immediately regretting it. This close, it’s impossible not to notice how the green of his eyes shifts like sea glass catching light, how they seem to see straight through my defenses. Panic flutters in my chest. He can’t actually read my thoughts, right?
Time to set some ground rules for Seymour Black.