I stare at him.

“I mean, the rent in this neighborhood is astronomical and we don’t sell that much coffee. We have three employees. But I can’t keep it going on like this forever. We need to do something new, and you have ideas. You have real ideas, Chloe, for ways this place could be successful.”

I can’t lie; something in me stirs when he says that. I do have ideas, and not just about how to decorate the bathroom. I have big ideas, about shifting the business model to be more of a cute diner, one that, yes, serves coffee in the mornings but also has lunch and dinner, updated diner favorites. We’d use vintage-looking floral plates and mismatched teacups, serving recipes with names like Nick’s Mom’s Tortilla Soup.

I shake my head. No. This is not happening.

Nick keeps talking. “You can do this, Chloe. We can do this together. I know we can.”

I surprise both of us by letting out a laugh, a sharp bark that rings through the empty shop. “There’s absolutely no way I could take a risk like that.”

Nick shakes his head. “I get it that you’ve never run a business before, but—”

“What am I supposed to tell my dad if it fails? ‘Whoops, sorry about that, I gambled away all our money, have fun in whatever shithole we can afford now.’”

Nick leans forward and grabs my hand. “It’s not a gamble, and you don’t have to worry about money. I told you, what I don’t have is ideas. Talent. I have money.”

“Am I supposed to let you float me?” I ask, disgusted, as I pull my hand back. “What are you, my sugar daddy?”

Nick makes a face. “God. No.”

I look down at my red flats. I so wish I could click my heels twice and send myself right back home, where this conversation wasn’t happening. “It’s not going to happen, Nick.”

He throws up his hands, exasperated. “Why not? Give me one good reason, because I know you want your own place and this is a chance to do that—”

I raise my eyebrows. “You want one reason? Let me give you a few. How about because I don’t need you figuring out my life for me? I handle everything. I handle my family and I handle me. That’s how it’s always been, ever since I was a little kid, and that’s not going to change. I don’t want to be someone’s charity case. I do things myself, because I can depend on me.”

“You’re not a charity case,” Nick says in a low voice. “And haven’t I proven by now that you can depend on me?”

I ignore him and keep going. “I have a family and they need me. My dad doesn’t have anyone else, Nick. I can’t count on my mom and Milo’s doing God-knows-what, and I’m the only one who can make sure he’s okay. And honestly? I don’t want to be responsible for anyone, or anything, else. I can’t take anything on while I’m taking care of him, and after . . . well, after, I don’t want to be tied down.”