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He fidgets in his chair, his cheeks flushing slightly, because we’re both thinking about the same thing. “I wouldn’t have expected it to mean anything, Ruthie. I would have done it just to help.”
“I know, and I accept too much of your help as it is. With Shane, it’s just a financial arrangement. I don’t feel like I’m taking advantage of him. And it’s happening at a good time.” I pause, then add, “Eden and Charlie are finally giving up the ghost.”
His mouth scrunches to one side in sympathy, but he’s obviously not surprised.
“You knew this would happen.”
He shrugs. “I’d guessed, but maybe it’s a good thing. No one was making much money there.”
I can’t deny that, but the thought of losing my safe space and my friends still puts a hole in my chest. I probably won’t see Eden and Charlie much anymore, after they close Loving. They’ll talk about staying in touch, the way co-workers always do before someone leaves a job, and maybe in the beginning they’ll mean it. But as time passes they’ll find other things to notice. Even if they do stay in touch, it won’t be the same. It won’t be like they’re family anymore.
I guess it’s the things you’ve never had that bring about the deepest kind of wanting.
I swallow it down like Izzy swallowing her vitamins and say, “I’m going to really throw myself into Vanny this time.”
“Okay,” he says, obviously humoring me. He always humors me. “But if you want to try something different, maybe you can come work at the shop with me. I’ll get you a bandana and everything. Hell, we can go to one of the shops on Haywood and get you a ‘Van Life’ tattoo.”
“What about your current assistant?” I ask, surprised.
“He sucks,” he tells me with an easy smile. “I’ll fire him and hire you, problem solved.”
Only it wouldn’t be problem solved for me. I don’t want to work at an auto shop, and I especially don’t want to work for Tank. He’d be doing it just for me, not because he thinks I’m particularly good at it. Maybe I’m stubborn, the way I’ve been told by everyone I know since birth, but that makes a difference to me. I also want to believe that I have the ability to stick with something and make it work.
I want Shane to be wrong about me, even if I have to admit he’s right about the holes in my plan. There’s the weather problem with Vanny’s current iteration, but there must be a way around it. A collapsible tent? Space heaters? Jugs of hot chocolate?
I take a sip of my hot chocolate and find it delicious and warm. Maybe this coffee shop would be willing to partner with me. That could help me get around some of the food prep restrictions.
Shane could help you figure this out, a traitorous voice in my head suggests. He offered, and he’s good at talking things out.
It’s tempting, but the more alluring possibility is to do it all myself to prove that I can. To show him that I’m not some little girl with ideas too big for her, but a capable woman who can solve her own problems without his help, thank you very much. Why, I’ll bet I could even solve his problems for him, and I’m tempted to try just on spite, and…
Tank’s still looking at me, waiting for an answer about the job.
“No,” I finally say, messing with the top of my cocoa cup again, my gaze lifting to Izzy. I have to smile as I watch her hand hover over a bin of overused markers, searching for the perfect color. She’s like me—always trying to get it right—but at least she has me to assure her that it’s okay to fail. Even if I don’t think it’s okay when I fail.
“Why’d I know you were going to say that?” Tank asks, still smiling, because I’m not sure he knows how not to smile. It’s one of the things I love about him. He’s like an angel perched on my shoulder, encouraging me with smiles and grins and candy. Shane’s my devil, fanning my ambition and lust. I sigh, because the thought of Shane holding a devil’s pitchfork makes me hot with need.
There’s no denying I want him more now that I’ve had him—but I’ll be stubborn about this. I decided one night was all we’d have, and I intend to stick to it. Nothing good can come of giving a single drop more of my power to Shane Royce.
“So,” Tank adds, pausing to take a sip of his latte. “Do you have a registry for this fake marriage?”
“No,” I say with a grin. “But if you decide to send a Kitchen-Aide mixer, I’m not going to return it.”
“Add it to your wishlist,” he says, grinning back. “Maybe your wishlist angel will send it.”
“Is this your way of finally outing yourself as my benefactor?”
He lifts his hands, palms out. “It’s not me. You know how I feel about ordering shit online.”
That it’s never how it looks in the pictures. He claims this is also why he will never online date, but I can’t help but think I might have something to do with that. It’s something else to feel guilty about it, and that’s another list that’s always getting longer.
When Izzy and I get back to the apartment, hand in hand, there’s a welcoming party waiting on my stoop that consists of my brother, Mira, who’s holding a potted poinsettia, and Danny’s friend Leonard. Leonard has a plastic bag with him, weighted down by whatever’s inside.
My eyes meet my brother’s, and fierce emotion fills my chest. He knows. Or at least he knows something. I should have been the one to tell him, and shame coats me like a dirty sweatshirt.
“Mom,” Izzy says, dancing in place. “Uncle Danny brought a party! Can I go give everyone hugs?”
“Yes, sweetheart,” I say as I run a hand over her hair.
