Chapter Twenty-Six

I show up for my shifts all week, providing our customers with the high level of Chloe Sanderson service to which they’ve become accustomed, but I avoid Nick like it’s yet another job. I don’t meet his eyes. I don’t look at him when I can feel him staring at me. I definitely don’t go into his office for any reason, lest I find him shirtless in there. It’s pretty difficult, but as I remind myself, it’s for the best.

“Hey,” Nick says one night as we clean up. “Is everything okay with you? With your dad, and Milo?”

I shrug, wiping off a counter. “Um, as okay as it ever is. Which is to say, not okay at all, but that’s normal.”

He nods. “You seem a little off this week.”

I bristle. “I’m sorry that handling a job, school, and the care of my sick father occasionally makes me into a less-than-pleasant person.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Okay.” I know it’s not, and I know I’m not being fair. It’s not Nick’s fault I’m a screw-up who can’t handle normal relationships because her life is so full of responsibilities. “Sorry. I’m being an asshole.”

“Can I talk to you about something?” Nick asks. He leans against the counter until I’m forced to put down my cleaning rag and look at him.

“Talk away,” I say, leaning away from him, wishing I’d never looked into those brown eyes.

He takes a deep breath, then says in a rush, “I think we should be partners.”

I raise my eyebrows, then tilt my head, then squint at him, then make vague movements with my hands. Basically, I run the gamut of facial expressions and hand gestures before settling on one word: “What?”

“I think we should run the shop together. You and me.”

“What?” I ask again. Apparently that’s the only word I know now.

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to be your boss, Chloe, not when you do more to keep this place running than I do. You’re the one who makes the baked goods; you’re the one people come in to see. You’re the one who has the big ideas to make this place more successful, and most importantly, you’re the one with business training. I’m floundering around over here, learning as I go, but you actually know things.”

I start shaking my head as words start pouring out of my mouth. “Oh, no. No, Nick. I do not think that’s a good idea.”

“I know it seems like a lot of responsibility.”

I snort. “Uh, yeah. And a lot of money, which, FYI, I don’t have.”

“I have money,” Nick says simply.

I furrow my brow. “What?” I need to introduce some new words into my vocabulary, but this conversation is going some places I didn’t expect.

“From when my dad died. He was pretty shitty at being a husband or a father, but he was great at making money, and I don’t know if it was guilt or a tiny part of him that was actually a good person, but he left me a lot of that money.” He squints at me. “Didn’t you wonder how I keep this shop running?”