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“Call me babe again, and the next conversation you’ll have will be with a doctor explaining why I knocked your teeth out.” I put my hands on my hips. “Again, you can leave now.”
He held up his hands. “Are you all right? You hit the ground pretty hard.”
“I’d like to hit you pretty hard.”
“I’m trying to be nice to you.”
“Don’t bother. I don’t want you to be nice to me. That’s pretty damn obvious, don’t you think?”
Chase sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Can you really not take two minutes to hold a real conversation with me?”
I glared at him. “The fact you need me to answer that really pisses me off. You’re not stupid.”
“Depends how you define stupid.”
“I define it as my ex, who tried to ruin my life, standing in front of me and not getting the hint.”
“I define it as my ex, who’s so blinded by misguided hatred, standing in front of me and not talking to me.”
“There’s my definition, and then there’s the wrong definition.” I folded my arms across my chest, never taking my eyes off him. “And there is nothing misguided about my hatred. Unless the reason you’re still here is to get on your knees and beg me for forgiveness just so I can tell you where to shove it, the door is right there.” I nodded toward it and turned away from him.
It wasn’t fair that someone who was such a monumental asshole was so handsome.
“Did I just see Chase leave here?”
The soft, feminine voice jolted me out of my thoughts. I peered to see Sophie standing in the doorway with her thumb cocked over her shoulder.
“Finally,” I muttered.
She looked over her shoulder and back at me. “Is there something I should know?”
“Yes. He’s an insufferable, disrespectful, ignorant pig who needs a smack.”
“Ah. You spoke to him.”
I snorted. “Under duress.” I spent the next few minutes recapping my stressful lunch and the accident after.
“Ohhh.” She closed the door and nodded. “I wondered why it smelled like coffee in here.”
My groan was loud as I slumped onto the counter. “What am I doing, Soph? I can’t do this renovation. I’m holding onto a dream I can’t reach.”
“Yeah, here we go. One conversation with Chase Aarons and you’re all woe-is-me. Why don’t you just admit that the reason he hurt you so much is that you’re not over him?”
I bolted upright and held up a finger. “I am so over Chase.”
She shook her head, her blonde hair flying. “No, you’re not. You never got over him. You went from heartbreak to hating him. That’s not how you get over someone.”
“There are literally hundreds of romantic comedies that show that as a perfectly acceptable way to get over someone.”
“You’re not in a Hollywood movie. You’re in Key West.”
“I don’t get what you’re trying to say. I’m tired. I’ve had the lunch from hell. The only good thing to come out of today is the ice cream, so if you’re going to try to tell me all the ways you think I still have feelings for that royal douchecanoe, then you can follow him out the door.”
Soph narrowed her eyes. “Are you due for your period? You’re a right miserable bitch.”
I sighed. “I think I am. Sorry. I know you’re trying to help in your own weird way.” I paused. “Wanna try the new ice cream?”
She put her purse on the counter. “Only if it’s in one of those new cones.”
I nodded and pulled a waffle cone with chocolate and sprinkles from the holder. Two scoops of unicorn ice cream later, I handed the bubblegum-flavored mystical-looking treat to my best friend.
She wasted absolutely no time trying it. Her moans of delight had me biting the inside of my cheek. “Rae, this is fucking amazing. Where did you get the idea?”
“Jessie.” I shrugged. “She wanted unicorn ice cream. It’s unique and quite a lot of work to do. Grandma said I needed to give people a reason to come to the store.”
She admired her half-eaten ice cream. “And this will attract all kinds of little girls and teens and people looking to get the best Instagram.”
Another shrug.
“That’s brilliant. Don’t you ever tell me you can’t do this again.” She waggled a bright green fingernail at me. “We need to get you an Instagram for this place!”
I blinked at her. “What? Why?”
“To get the word out! You can chronicle your renovations and get people interested before you even open. It’s the perfect time to do it!”
“I can’t take photos for anything, Soph. And who the hell wants to see me renovating this—what are you doing?”
She’d put her ice cream in the holder while I’d been talking and had her phone open. “Making you an account.”
“I didn’t—I don’t—”
Looking me dead in the eye, she said, “Do you trust me?”
