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Gage hums thoughtfully, staring away from the shoreline toward the businesses lining the beach. “There’s a great vegetarian sandwich shop here in the Outer Sunset. We could get a late lunch before Elodie and I have to leave for work.”
My. Heart.
It’s thumping so hard. We’ve had a couple meals together as a foursome and they were accidentally vegetarian—pasta primavera and mushroom risotto. But I’ve only mentioned Amanda’s food preferences once—to his grandmother the first night of the pop-up shop.
And he remembered.
“Say less,” Amanda says, and we’re off for a family lunch.
I mean, a temporary family lunch.
Over sandwiches, Amanda asks about the menu tonight, and we tell her what we’ll be serving. “I wish we could go with you. I like serving chocolate,” she says wistfully, and I flash back to her comments from last week about how she enjoys helping in the store.
“I wish you could too, bug.”
When we’re done, we take them back to Zane’s house, where Gage’s grandma is waiting with cookie supplies and time.
Lucky Grandma.
That night, Amanda’s comments play on a loop as we work.
I wish we could go with you.
The hotel staff set up tables in the courtyard and we’ve hired some temp workers to help us serve, thanks to the influx of crowds from the chocolate viral video and the rockers’ pics.
It’s another busy night. When we close, we’ve exhausted our supply of extra jalapeños and chocolate, but I haven’t exhausted my brainpower. I’m still thinking about possibilities when Felix raps on the glass door.
Smiling, naturally.
It’s the first time we’ve seen him since the wedding. He’s been out of town for business this past week, though he congratulated us online.
Gage unlocks the door and lets him in.
“The Mr. and Mrs.” Felix beams, and the man couldn’t be happier we’re hitched. You’d think he was a matchmaker or something and we were his prize clients. “You must have really wanted to get married.”
“We sure did,” Gage says, upbeat and telling the truth, though leaving out a crucial detail. We have an enemy who wanted to tell you that we’ve been lying to you.
My stomach twists. The fact that Gage and I legit like each other is irrelevant. We lied, bold and bald-faced, to snag this coveted property.
And we’re raking in the business thanks to trendsetters coming here.
“We did,” I echo but I feel hollow. Guilty. Gage squeezes my waist, maybe a sign for me to perk up.
Felix strokes his beard, his eyes twinkling. “I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to add another day. Maybe Sunday?”
I grimace privately, but before we can answer, his phone rings.
“Be right back,” he says.
As Felix steps into the courtyard, I turn to Gage with some hesitation over adding a day.
I’m relieved his expression matches mine.
Uncertainty.
It’s written all over his face.
“I don’t want to take time away from…the girls,” I confess.
