Page 81 of Never Pucking Ending

My heart stutters for a second before I turn around, trying to fight the frown. She’s staring at me outside her store with her arms crossed. Dane may not have been disgusted by me, but Karen Hardy is.

And she made sure we had an audience.

I flush when I feel different pairs of eyes on me from people walking their pets or heading into neighboring stores. They look between us, whisper something to one another, and then gawk cautiously my way.

“Not so tough now without him here to protect you, are you?” she asks me with a smug smile.

“I don’t need him to protect me,” I state, gripping my purse strap. I knew she’d seen us outside city hall the day of the meeting. “And my relationship with Jesse is none of your business.”

“It is if it’s going to bring the wrong kind of attention to our city. Some of us actually had to work for what we have. We don’t all get handouts from the people we’re related to.”

Is that what this is about? “Are you upset over my relationship or because you think my connections paid for this new business? Because I can assure you that Jesse hasn’t paid for anything. Everything I’ve done has been because I worked my ass off for it.”

She doesn’t elaborate. All this petty bitch says is, “I guess that explains why your last one failed.”

I stand up straighter. Because Belle’s Place, despite closing, wasn’t a failure. It may not have been open for as long as I would have liked, but those circumstances were beyond me. It took a long time for me to understand that.

“I hope you have the day you deserve, Karen,” is all I tell her before giving her my back and walking to my car.

I ignore the next two texts Jesse sends me and try brushing off what Karen said before he gets home.

*

Mom arrives the next morning, just after noon because she got stuck in backed-up traffic from an accident that blocked all four lanes of interstate. Which is probably good because I fell asleep in Jesse’s bed last night. We didn’t do anything, though I’m sure we could have if I took my shirt off and touched his chest to give him the greenlight.

He had dinner ready by the time I’d come home and asked if I was okay. I didn’t divulge anything about what Karen said and barely mentioned anything about Dane. I simply smiled and nodded and kissed him in thanks for preparing food when I know he’s had a long day.

I’d woken up an hour after Jesse slipped out of bed to start his day, reminding myself that I couldn’t get used to this during Mom’s visit. It’ll feel weird sleeping in my bed again, and an oddly strong feeling weighs down my chest at the thought.

Mom gives me a big hug and rocks us in place, practically bruising my ribs from her hold like she hasn’t seen me in decades. “Need. Air,” I rasp, only then feeling her arms loosen.

She pulls away. “Sorry. After that atrocious drive I needed a hug. People kept honking at me like I was the problem. That’s why I make Frank drive us everywhere. He’s comfortable in those situations. I want to cry.”

“Aww.” This time, I give her a hug, but mine is less boa constrictor and more koala-like. She still seems tense, and I feel bad for making her drive all this way. “Maybe next time I can come to you, so you don’t have to deal with city traffic.”

Mom waves it off, acting like it’s no big deal. But I’m ninety-percent sure I can see new strands of gray hair peppered into her brown hair. “Oh, it’s fine. I survived.”

Barely, she doesn’t add.

I offer her a cup of coffee and the last chocolate chip muffin. “After your adrenaline comes down, we can go to the store so you can see the progress. We finished painting it yesterday. Then we can go to the Ody’s Warehouse to price out furniture. I’m thinking about getting a couch and some armchairs. Think Central Perk from Friends. Cozy, you know? But cozy meets Amazon rain forest or fairy romance novel come to life. Plants. Vines. Woodsy and whimsical.”

She sips her drink, then grabs the sugar and adds another scoop. And Jesse wonders where I get my sweet tooth from. “Honey, I love you, but it sounds like you have no idea where you’re going with the design.”

My shoulders deflate. “I don’t,” I admit. “I do want a spot for people to lounge and eat and read. I want to do book clubs and social events. The space is big enough to have a separate reading and eating area, plus a space for the shelves. Most of them will be built-ins, but I want at least one row of books away from the wall. Sort of like that huge library you used to take me to when I was little. The one that did the summer reading program.” Ooooh. “I could do a summer reading program to encourage kids to come get books!”

I jog into my office and fetch my notebook, jotting down my latest idea.

Mom puts her hand on mine, drawing my attention away from the paper. “Their summer program was so popular because it was free. It was meant to help disadvantaged kids get into reading. I’m not saying you shouldn’t do something similar, but you should consider that before implementing it.”

Truthfully, I don’t remember the details of the program. Only that I’d read the most books and won an iPod shuffle. It was pink and I loved it.

I put the pen down. “There is so much to do if I want to open by fall. Dane is working on the shelves now, which will be a huge step in the right direction. But I have to make sure everything we build is up to code. And then I have to buy bulk ingredients for the food, which means finalizing what food I’ll be selling, and I still have to apply for a food service license since my last one was only applicable in Pittsburgh. And don’t get me started on the—”

“Beathe, honey. In. Out. Good, just like that.” She waits until I’ve taken a few good breaths before continuing. “You have time, and you have people to help. Let’s take it one day at a time. You already got your business license before signing the lease, and you were granted the proper permits to begin building. Dane will make sure everything is up to code, so it’ll pass with flying colors. You told me last time it was easy getting a food license and that your perfectionist personality will be ideal for ensuring it will pass health inspection because of how clean you always keep things. It will be fine. You’re supposed to be having fun with this, not hyperventilating.”

She’s right. The panic simmers for now, but I know it’ll come back full force when I have code enforcers and health specialists walking around the store with their clipboard covered in checklists. Usually, I talk them up while they do their inspections—become their buddy. I never have anything to hide, but I know some of them are sticklers for things that I don’t know are failure-worthy. Being buddy-buddy with them works about seventy-five percent of the time. The other twenty-five percent they’ll tell me they’re married, as if I’m showing them my boobs rather than making idle conversation. Those are always awkward moments.

I force myself to nod. “You’re right. It will be fine. Totally fine.”