I hit the delete button on the app and sigh when the familiar little purple icon vanishes from my phone. For years I used it to make my living. I structured my days around that app and the shifts I lined up. Deleting it feels anticlimactic but I have to do it. I have to let it go, along with anything else that might drag me back into harm’s reach.
I moved out of my apartment last week. It hurt. And not just because it was rent controlled but because that corner of Queens had been mine for so long. The familiar streets and shops, the way my apartment building had pipes that banged and a front door that stuck in the winter. I’d lived there and let myself settle into the space more than any other. Jauna, Elaina and the twins were sad to see me go but I promised to take them all out. I even said I’d let the twins drive if they passed their driver’s test, but I’m sure Taylor and his security detail will have something to say about that before it’s all said and done.
My old apartment is gone, so is my job. Even the clothes and belongings I brought with me to Law’s are forgotten. I didn’t really want to keep much and I hadn’t ever taken the time to make my apartment a home. Not really. I have a few pieces of art and one struggling houseplant, I guess. The only thing I really cared about was my tea collection. That’s got prime real estate in the kitchen, but other than that? I threw out so much of my clothing. So much of it was so worn or sporting random stains from working as a barista for years that I just tossed it all. It’s not like I wanted to end up on some front page with an old faded espresso stain on my sweatshirt.
Law wouldn’t care. Whatever I wanted to wear was fine by him, but I’d care. I want to look decent. I want people to look at me and understand why he’d married me. I want to make him proud. When I’d told him that while throwing away over half my clothes while he looked on in confusion, but still bringing me the trash bags I’d asked for, I’d told him the reason.
“I want to make you proud of me.”
“I’m always proud of you, Honey.”
And just like that he’d made my fears over not looking the part or people understanding why we were married seem silly. What did it matter what strangers thought if he was happy with me? The answer is, it doesn’t. Law is happy with me. My Daddy is proud of me.
Anyone else’s opinion doesn’t matter.
I push away from the table and look at my watch. I need to be on the move. I promised Tiffany that I’d meet her for lunch and that's when I have plans to spring my big idea on her. The big idea is that I’m going to open a coffee shop and I want her there with me.
I want to call it Sweet Rose after that memory I now know is real. That sun drenched memory is precious to me. It feels right to make it mine in a more permanent way with the coffee shop. I’m nervous about it, but Law is confident it will be a success.
“You can do anything you want. I know this. I wish you did too.”
I smile and shrug on my coat. It’s still early in the morning so there’s a chill but soon I won’t need a coat at all. It’ll be summer and the perfect weather. My favorite weather. The thought puts a bounce in my step as I exit the elevator and make for the parking spot my new car sits in. It’s a shiny Audi midsize SUV because Law didn’t want me in something he didn’t think had enough protection. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I’m the crazy driver he’s worried about. I haven’t owned a car ever so driving has been interesting, but I’m glad he got the SUV. If I was in anything smaller I’d probably be too nervous to drive.
I pull out of the garage, paranoid as hell I’m going to hit a corner, but I don’t. Thank god. I force myself to relax on the way to meet Tiffany, even when I catch sight of the nondescript black car that’s tailing me. I know that’s Marco and his men. It makes me nervous knowing I’m being watched as I drive but at least if I hit something they’ll be there as a witness, right?
I get to the restaurant. It’s uptown and upscale. The kind of place that Marco and the others will be able to control who comes in and out of. That’s the only reason I pick it, so I blush when Tiffany greets me with a tease.
“Oh, so you’re richrichnow, huh?”
“Stop it,” I laugh. “I’m still me.”
She eyeballs the gleaming doors of the restaurant with a raised eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure a meal here will cost every penny I made today and maybe half of tomorrow. I don’t even think they’re going to let me in looking like this.” She gestures at her outfit. It’s a cute outfit. A cream sweater and black jeans with scuffed boots from wear.
“You look beautiful.” I loop my arm through hers and drag her towards the doors. “And don’t worry about paying. I need your beautiful brain to focus on something else.”
Tiffany cranes her neck to look at Marco and his men that are a step behind us. “Like who? Those hot Mafia looking guys?”
“That’s just Marco.”
“He looks like a fucking beautiful assassin. What do you mean that’s just Marco?” She elbows me and lowers her voice as we walk. “I knew they were with you. What are they, your bodyguards?”
“Yup.”
We’re at the doors by then and she whistles, eyes still moving over Marco. “I was kidding, but damn. You really are rich.”
“Tiffany. I’m still me. I’m just Honey and I have a proposition for you.”
Tiffany’s eyes snap from Marco to me and she grins. “That sounds dangerous and sexy. I’m in.”
We spend the next hour dreaming about what Sweet Rose will be and catching up. It’s easy and effortless and even with my sexy assassins watching over us and glaring at everyone but the staff, we have fun. Time with Tiffany is always fun. It always was, which was why she was a bright spot when I didn’t let myself have it easy. When we leave, Tiffany is all in on opening the coffee shop with me— as a manager and creative partner. I know Law is right and I could figure it out, but it feels good to know I’ll have a friend that understands the business as well as I do. We’ve both worked in enough shops to know what works and what doesn’t. She swears Gus will get over losing her, but I don’t know. Hopefully we can work with him in the future, seeing as we learned so much from him. I call a car for her and send Tiffany off with a monster hug and kiss on the cheek.
“You’re like the best not sister I’ve ever had, Honey,” she laughs before she slips into the car. “Love you!”
The familiar hit to my chest when another person claims me as special to them aches through me and I raise a hand in a wave. “Love you too, Tiffany.” She’s gone a second later and all I can do is smile as I walk back to my car with Marco as my shadow.
“Going anywhere else today, Mrs. Sokolov?” he asks, eyes scanning the street. I like that he’s good at his job but he’s not an easy guy to relax around. Guess I don’t share Tiffany’s enthusiasm for him, but he is the best at what he does.
“Just another few errands and then back home. I’ll text the stops to you now.”
