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By late Saturday night, my head hurt worse than my ankle ever did, and I was exhausted. But I was ready for the meeting at the bank set to take place on Monday, so I was looking forward to spending time with Leo.
“I’m sorry, Tillie. I can’t go out tomorrow,” he said when I asked if he wanted to hit the beach on Sunday. “I have meetings lined up with Jasper and my tour manager. I’m going to be on calls all day.”
“It’s fine,” I said, even though I was admittedly sad. “It’s a hustle kind of week. How about breakfast after my meeting with the bank on Monday?” I asked.
“Deal. I love you. And I’m proud of you,” he said.
We talked for a little while, and then I let him go so he could get some sleep. I settled back into my room, staring at the popstar posters on the wall. My mind wandered to New York, despite my best efforts, and how Brad and I had drifted apart. I was always at the coffee shop, and he was always working—at least that was what I thought at the time. I pulled my knees into my chest, thinking about how hard it was to balance love and big dreams.
I shook the thought aside. It would be different this time. It would be. We would make it different. Nevertheless, I couldn’t fall asleep that night, tossing and turning as my mind went back, despite my best efforts.
***
“CAN WE HAVE A NO-PHONE night?” I asked, sitting across the table from Brad. We were celebrating our seven-year anniversary, and I’d left the coffee shop early to make lasagna and garlic bread, his favorite.
He sat across our tiny apartment dining set, nose buried in his phone as he shoveled in a few bites. I was fairly sure he hadn’t even noticed that I’d curled my hair or done my makeup for the first time in ages.
“Brad?” I said, a little more forcefully.
“Sorry. Work,” he mumbled, returning his gaze.
“It’s our anniversary.”
He looked up then, clenching his jaw. “Yes, it’s our anniversary, and I have work. You know, like you do all the time. How many nights are you running back to the coffee shop to deal with an ordering mishap or something else?”
I gritted my teeth. “I’m trying to make the business successful. You know it’s a lot of work.”
“And my job isn’t? I’m trying to keep the money going and keep up with work and give you business advice.”
“And I have my feet on the ground at the place every day, handling everything,” I argued. Tears were welling.
We stared icily at each other.
“I just...I wanted a nice night together. I wanted things to be like they were.”
“Maybe you should consider what I said before. Sell while it’s doing well,” Brad said. My heart plummeted.
“I love Tillie’s Brews. It’s my dream, and it’s my work.”
“It’s a coffee shop, though. It was a fun investment for a while. But maybe it’s time to pull out and move on,” he said, finally putting his phone down now that we were talking about money.
“Is that all it is to you? An investment property?”
“It’s business, Babe. Nothing personal,” he said.
I shook my head. “It’s my dream, Brad. My whole dream. And I thought it was your dream, too.” I stood from the table, crossing to the counter and leaning on it. I felt like I was going to be sick. For the past seven years, I’d been working myself to the bone to make my dream happen—and it had. Tillie’s Brews was a success. But there I was, realizing that the man I thought might propose soon saw my dream, my passion as nothing more than a money exchange.
“Tillie,” he said, reaching for my arm. I pulled back. “Don’t make this something it isn’t. It’s business. That’s all. I’m a CPA. Of course, I’m looking at investment strategies and financials. But what I’m really invested in is you. I love you. I just get upset because the business pulls you away from me so much. I miss you. I just want us to have a nice life together.”
I softened. I turned and looked into his eyes. He seemed sincere.
“Sorry. I just...I love what I do. I don’t want to let it go.”
He hugged me then. “We’ll do better. We’ll find balance.”
We kissed then and returned to the table to finish our lasagna. I smiled, and we talked about memories and upcoming events and all the things couples do. Still, as I sat across the table from the man I told myself was forever, a piece of my heart had cracked.
Brad was a significant investor in the business. He’d helped us through some tough times in the beginning. I realized how delicate it was, mixing business and love. Because if something happened down the road, what would stop him from forcing my hand? I felt like I couldn’t just do what I wanted with my business because he owned a significant portion of it. It wasn’t my dream, I realized. It was partially his—and that wasn’t a feeling I liked.
