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“Oh, it was only for today.”
“I’ve seen the supplements you take, and you commented on how clean my microwave was for a bachelor before I made the TV dinners. You even wash your hands as soon as Kelsey wants your help at the bar.”
“That’s a health department code. You want your waitresses using the restroom without washing afterward?”
“You’re missing the point. I’m not feeling great.” I’m evasive. “We have the gala coming up. You shouldn’t be sick for that.”
“If you insist.” She doesn’t argue.
I don’t know how to take Paisley backing down so easily other than realizing she really doesn’t want to see me.
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Dodging tables to find a quiet booth, I juggle my hot cup, the change from buying Greer’s drink and mine, and the receipt;why did I need a paper copy?I make the silly remark to Greer.
We’ve been on both sides of the register and agree that no matter which way it feels rushed trying to stuff all that crap away and make room for the customer behind to move up in line.
I place my wristlet on my lap. Then I take the to-go lid off of my steamy drink and bob the bag up and down, darkening the hot water. “I’m surprised you wanted to come for tea so late.”
Yoga with Greer has become a favorite of mine. The downtown studio is a short walk from our shops. It’s nice to support another local business owner. My muscles feel great afterward. I’m relaxed. It also gives me something to look forward to besides seeing Jake because I don’t hang around Sweet Caroline’s every night.
This is the first time Greer has asked me to do anything since she suggested joining the yoga studio. She’d been cautious when she brought up coming into Baked Beans after class. Almost reluctant to bother me, so I hadn’t wanted to push her off. The years of solitude turned Greer into an introvert. I’m sure most people consider her an outcast and underestimate her ability to contribute to the town. However, Greer is actually quite capable and is becoming less apprehensive of people since her shop opened.
Greer shrugs in answer to my comment. “I needed a friend. Byron loves me, but there’s only so much I can say to my boyfriend without burdening him with all my girl stuff. It feels weird discussing anything that’s intimate in our personal life with Karen, where she co-owns Mind Your Own Beeswax and her husband is Byron’s boss. I mean, I know that you probably have a bestie that you open up to about things...”
My heart skips a beat and my brain latches onto Greer’s comment that I have a best friend.
Do I?
I have female acquaintances and women like Greer that I’ve met because I’m a store owner. Gavin’s sister was my maid of honor because she was an appropriate choice. My bridesmaids were women I grew up around whose mothers were honorary aunties and whose parents were close with my own. Except all those friends got was my highlight reel. I’d never share my worries with them.I didn’t share my cold feet over the wedding with anyone.
The only person I’ve let my guard down for is Jake. Aside from the increased comfort being obstinate towards him when we bicker, I tell him silly things no one else wants to hear. Backorder inventory woes and shipments I’m excited about arriving. Even finding new local suppliers for niche products like what Greer sells.
While Jake doesn’t care about my hopes or dreams, which is to my benefit since I don’t have many, he listens with intent—and not in a malevolent way. I’ve never once felt a gnawing in the pit of my stomach that Jake intends to use those trivial details against me. Seeing as he’s a business owner as well, Jake has a frame of reference and he “gets it”.
Not to mention, I’m past worrying about being on my best behavior with Jake. It isn’t like what I think of Jake concerns him. So I’m free to fly my flaws like they’re a flag flapping in the breeze.
I have a goofy grin plastered on my face an hour into our conversation.
“Is it weird that I don’t care if we get married?” she asks.
I scoff. “A piece of paper doesn’t make you any less committed. I suppose getting married makes it more difficult to end things. I might not be the right person to ask, though.” I run my fingers over the tabletop.
Greer blushes like it hadn’t occurred to her. “Don’t get me wrong, Byron isn’t pressuring me. We both had parents that were married and stayed together for the long haul. And I want to be with him forever. A wedding feels hasty? Obligatory?” She sighs. “I’m not explaining myself well.”
I wrap my hand over hers. “Have you considered the world changed while you were away and nothing anyone does has to be linear anymore? My mom and dad met, married,thenmoved in together, and tried for a baby. I bet yours did it the same way. So, so what if you and Byron lived together and are now putting the rest out of sequence? What if you skipped a step everyone expects in its entirety?”
“Like having a wedding.”
“I proved to you when you attended your first wedding that weddings aren’t what they are cracked up to be.” I raise a self-deprecating brow.
Greer nearly shoots coffee out of her nose. “Oh, I’m sorry. That was gross.” She laughs, wiping her face. A broad grin stretches over her cheeks. “Can I say something without you getting offended?”
“Sure.”
