Page 17 of Roundabout

CHAPTER 5

Angela

“Hey, Angela, can you sign for this?” one of our parts delivery drivers asks, holding out a clipboard over a large box that probably has more to do with the garage side of things than my car wash portion. I sign anyway since I’m the boss. One of them. Beckett’s at Pop One today, while Tysen and I hold down the fort here at Pop Two. After Coty started his design company and Marc built his own motorsports complex, Beckett and I split Pop The Hood responsibilities pretty much equally. He’s at Pop One for the first half of the week while I take care of Pop Two, then we switch for the last half. We have trustworthy, hands-on managers at both locations and sections of the business; but I’ll never forget what it was like to work somewhere without an owner ensuring things run a certain way.

“Damn, looks like I missed my chance,” the driver says.

At my blank expression, he points at my engagement ring.

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Coty?” I thought it was common knowledge that we were together. It has been ten years. But some of the newer employees might not be clued in yet since Coty is hardly ever here anymore. I certainly don’t act like I’m single though, so I’m not sure why he, or anybody, would think that.

Tysen chuckles as he passes. Walking backward, he teases, “Coty? You’re not sure?”

“I’m sure. It’s Coty,” I bite out much harsher than necessary. It’s always been Coty, and as long as he’ll still have me, it’ll always be Coty.

The driver looks between me and Paige’s brother over my shoulder before saying awkwardly, “Well then, congratulations.”

I smile so hard my eyes crinkle painfully. Will Coty still want me after this?

“You okay, Angela?” Tysen questions from behind me.

Instead of answering, I wave at the box, and say, “Figure out who this belongs to, would you?”

I don’t trust myself to answer right now. I have too many balls up in the air to know if I’m okay yet. Every other time I’ve tried my hand at juggling, I’ve failed. I cannot fail this time.

My phone rings, and since I’ve been waiting two hours for a response, I answer it without even checking the name.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

I pause at Coty’s voice, letting his familiar tenor wash over me. He’s not who I was expecting, yet he’s exactly who I needed. That’s why it’s Coty, why it’ll always be Coty. I couldn’t stop loving him any more than the moon could stop orbiting Earth. Not all pulls are as indestructible, but my pull to Coty was, is, and forever will be.

I escape into my office so I can hear better. We haven’t had a chance to talk since yesterday. By the time I got home last night, it was too late, and this morning I left earlier than usual so I could make a phone call without anyone around.

“Are you ready to pick a theme?”

Shit. With everything going on, I forgot about our appointment with the wedding planner this afternoon.

Another ball gets added to the mix.

I trap the phone between my ear and shoulder to grab a stack of forms inside my office, saying, “Um, I thought we’d go with whatever theme you wanted.”

“Don’t do this.”

The papers in my hands fall to the desk silently.

“Do what?”

“Don’t make this about me.” The uncertainty in his voice buckles my knees and I fall into my chair. “Because if it’s only about me and what I want, then you can walk away.”

“I can’t. I won’t,” I promise him. I hate that he still has to worry about me running. I hate that I still justify that worry.

“What happened yesterday? You said you were checking on Rebel.”

“I did.”