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“I know,” I say with a chuckle. “But it’s all good. I like this. What’s the next step?”
Kevin nods once. “I can take care of the order and deliveries for you if you want me to.”
“Sure,” I say.
“Yeah?” He looks excited again before he clears his throat and tries to look professional. The more I work with him, the more I like him. He’ll go places if he continues like this. When I tell him as much, he laughs and scratches his neck.
“I’ll go to the warehouse and get a quote for you, so we can fast track the purchase.”
“I’ll wait for you to let me know how much I should transfer.” I hold out my hand, and Kevin shakes it.
“Thank you for doing business with us,” he says, looking so damn happy I feel good about just being able to make his day. “It’s going to be spectacular when it’s done.”
“I think so, too,” I say.
My phone rings and Natalie’s name flashes on the caller ID.
“Hey, beautiful,” I answer.
Kevin waves at me when he leaves and I wave back before I turn to the window.
“Where are you?” Natalie asks. Her voice sounds strained.
“I’m at the restaurant. Is everything okay?”
“Can I see you?”
“Right now?” She’s usually busy during the day. It’s just after lunch on a Monday. But I’m always happy to see her and if she has free time, I have a lot of free time right now.
“Sure,” I say. “If you come on over, I can show you what I’m doing with the restaurant. The decorator just left.”
“I’m on my way,” she says dully and hangs up.
I frown and tuck my phone into my pocket. Something’s wrong. I hope it’s nothing serious. But I’m glad she’s coming to me to talk to me about whatever it might be.
After our date over the weekend and her opening up to me about her late husband, I feel closer to her. Now that I know what she’s going through, I feel like we can deal with whatever lies ahead, together.
When her car arrives, I walk to the door to greet her. She comes in like a whirlwind. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright, and she pulled her hair back in a messy bun that adds to the chaos that defines her right now. She’s smoking hot in a button-up white shirt and a pencil skirt that falls below her knee, with black heels. Classy, professional.
Fuckable.
“Hi,” I say and go in to kiss her. She turns her head and I get her cheek.
“We need to talk,” she says.
I frown. Those words are never good to hear. Nothing good ever comes from a conversation that starts that way.
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t think we should do this anymore.”
I gesture for her to come into the restaurant so we’re not talking right in the doorway. I shut the door, and she walks up the few stairs that lead to what will be the dining area. When I join her, she crosses her arms over her chest as if she’s trying to keep herself together.
“What shouldn’t we do anymore?” I ask.
“This,” she says, waving her hand between us before tucking it back against her chest. “Us.”
“Are you breaking up with me?” I ask. I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut.
