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Fuck, that hurt. I had tonight to feel sorry for myself, and then I needed to suck it up. Cammie needed me. Bean Rush needed me. I needed to buy new furniture, orchestrate yet another move, and ensure that Cammie felt loved and cared for. It was a tall order that required all my strength and focus.
At home, the light over the stove was still lit. My mother’s doing. It felt good to have someone thinking about me.
In the living room, the TV screen flickered over my mom’s sleeping form. I went to cover her with a blanket, and she startled awake. Blinking against the light, she said, “Oh, how was the party?”
I’d told Mom I was going to Brooke’s reopening. I’d expected a fresh coat of paint, maybe even new shelves, but not an entirely different store that sold primarily wine rather than coffee.
“It wasn’t what I expected.” I plopped into the armchair next to her.
She slowly sat up and clicked off the TV. “I can’t believe I fell asleep so early.”
“You were tired.” She’d been waiting up on me. Some habits were hard to break.
She rubbed her eyes, then focused on me. “Why do you say that?”
My jaw tightened. “Brooke rebranded her store. It’s a wine market now. She’s going to serve wine and appetizers and probably host book clubs and trivia nights.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” Mom asked.
I leaned my elbows on my thighs. “It is when your girlfriend doesn’t tell you about it.”
“You’re upset that she kept it a secret?” Mom asked carefully.
“Well, yeah.” What didn’t she understand? It was so clear in my head. Brooke had lied.
“You’re her direct competitor. Maybe she thought it wouldn’t be good to tell you her plans. Can you honestly say that you wouldn’t have done something similar in the same situation?
I couldn’t help it. My mind was already whirring with possible marketing ideas. Grudgingly, I said, “Probably not.”
“Does it hurt your store? If she’s selling wine and you’re selling coffee, that seems like two different markets.” Mom had listened to me enough over the years to pick up the entrepreneurial language.
“She still has her coffee machines.” I could see that through the window, but everything else was new and shiny. I could see the locals’ excitement for another business in the area.
“It seems to me like she intends to serve food and alcohol but doesn’t want to leave her loyal customers completely in the lurch by not serving coffee.”
“Maybe.”
“You know it’s true, so what’s the problem?”
“She didn’t include me in her plans. I thought we were close, that we were moving toward a future together. Not going down different paths.” I felt unbelievably low because that’s what Maria had said when she turned down exploring a relationship as more than coparents.
Mom gave me a pointed look. “Have you talked to Brooke about it?”
“Briefly.”
“Maybe you need to talk about it some more. I think there’s a solution here if you’re willing to listen.”
I didn’t want to acknowledge that she was probably right. Brooke and I were adults. We needed to have a conversation. I just wasn’t ready for it yet.
“I’m going to bed,” Mom said, disapproval evident in her tone.
“Night, Mom.” I kissed her cheek when she bent down, touching my shoulder.
“Don’t stay up too late.”
I smiled; some things never changed. When she was gone, I checked my phone. There was a message from Brooke. She wanted to talk.
I was pleased she’d come to the same conclusion, but I couldn’t tonight. Not when things were so fresh.
