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“I did.”
“It’s not Sebastian Roberts and The Chocolate Connoisseur who’s leasing the space?”
She pffts. “Of course not.”
“Why of course not?”
“You run a chocolate shop and the store to the right of me is a lingerie boutique. I’m a smart businesswoman. I’m not going to lease the space to another chocolate shop. I want all of you to drive business to each other, not take away.”
Oh. Well. That does make perfect sense. “Who’s leasing it then?”
“Risqué Business is opening another shop,” she says, her eyebrows wiggling. “I’m a devotee.”
A smile takes me hostage and I don’t ever want to be freed. “Me too.”
“Doesn’t that sound simpatico? Chocolate, lingerie, and sex toys,” she says.
It sure does.
It sounds a lot like karma too.
An hour later, Kenji and some part-timers are handling Elodie’s while the rest of us take cocoa ingredients and cookies over to the Sunday pop-up.
As I set up a display tray of mouth-watering chocolate chip cookies at Special Edition, a throat clears.
It’s Amanda. Eliza’s next to her. For a few seconds, I worry it’s bad news. Maybe I always will. But Amanda just crosses her arms. Then rolls her eyes. “So, listen. We know you two tried to trick us.”
I steal a glance at Gage, asking what now with my eyes.
He just shrugs.
“Yeah, but we’re pretty smart. We know you two like each other,” Eliza says.
“We knew it was real all along. And we think you should go on a real date. So we booked Grams to hang out with us on Tuesday night so you can go to dinner.”
“Before my dad and I go to Darling Springs.”
I feel like we just got parent-trapped, and I don’t mind it one bit. I look to both of these young women. So strong already. So passionate. So damn determined. “You two are pretty smart. And you’re right.” I turn to Gage. Meet his eyes. Answer them as I look at him. “It’s all real.”
39
THIS WHOLE REAL THING
Gage
I’m counting down the days, the hours, almost the minutes till my date with Elodie.
If she thought the recreation of our fictional dates was romantic, wait till she sees what I have planned for tomorrow night.
I’m at Sticks and Stones on Monday evening, “handling the bar” as Zoe would say, when I steal a glance at my watch. It’s seven, so twenty-four hours to go.
I finish prepping an old-fashioned for table fourteen, handing it to the server to take there when there’s a break in the action. “So, when do you find out?” Zoe asks as she reaches for an olive for a martini.
My brow knits. “About…?”
She rolls her eyes. “Hello! The second location.”
Yes. That. Of course she means that. “Tomorrow. I have a meeting with Celeste at five.” Right before my date.
