AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Too bad my daddy isn’t good for anything but appearances and disappointment.
“That’s it. God. You’re fucking pathetic.”
“Lola—”
“No. It’s fine. You’re not the first. You won’t be the last. But just know this. Everything I’ve built?” I jab a thumb into my chest. “That business down there?” I point down the boardwalk where you can faintly make out my pink awning. “I worked just as hard as you did to get that.” I jab my finger into his chest now. “Nothing was given to me. Ever. So think what you want, be an asshole. Make assumptions. Make my life hell and glare at me every time you see me, but I’m not going anywhere, Ben Coleman. So you’d better get used to seeing me.”
And then I walk off.
And I have never felt more proud of myself ever in my life. Leaving Ben standing there, probably fuming and hating my every sinew as I walk away.
* * *
But the crazy part is, when I walk in through the backdoor of my bakery after coming back downstairs, a quick shower to rinse off and change my clothes, there’s a coffee sitting on the metal countertop where I’m going to be rolling out sugar cookies in just a few minutes.
It’s been sitting there for a bit, the condensation dripping down the sides and pooling at the bottom.
But it’s not the coffee that catches my eye.
No, it’s the note on thick notepaper with a fancy logo on top.
And on the note in thick black writing, it reads:Sorry. -B
At the top is the logo for Coleman Ink.
I grab the coffee, staring at it, confused.
Should I drink it?
It has the logo of the coffee shop I visited just an hour ago and looks the same . . .
But what if this is some kind of complex plan to kill me? To get me to stop waking him up first thing in the morning?
Whatever.
I need the caffeine.
And when I take a sip, it’s my exact order.
Eleven
-Lola-
On Friday,Coleman Ink closes at 11:30.
I know this because Hattie told me.
That first Friday was a fluke, she’d said—bad timing for my move because it was an event. It happens once a month in the summer and, according to Hattie, they usually give the neighbors fair warning and even invite them to come by for drinks, food, and a tattoo if they want.
But today is Friday night, and my walls are shaking again.
They shouldn’t be shaking.
I also shouldn’t be awake.
This must be the omen my coffee disaster was warning me of. The reason my day would be shit.
I was shocked when I saw that coffee in my bakery and the apology note that accompanied it. And, to be fair, I had a pretty great day—a good flow of customers, selling out of nearly everything. When I went to make everything I needed for Saturday morning after close, as has been my routine not to wake Ben up too early and be akind fucking neighbor, I had everything I needed. No need to run out and get anything I was out of, as tends to be my habit.
