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The moment I got back into town I sent a copy of the recording of mine and Garrett’s conversation over to Nicholas. It’s been days with no acknowledgement that I’ve ever even sent it over.
Did he even receive it?
“I have to go back to Magnolia Springs,” Feb says, hugging me at my front door. We’re standing in my apartment’s hallway, saying our farewells.
“Don’t leave. Live here forever.”
She beams, releasing me from the bear hug she’s given me. “Wish I could, but New York has plenty of coffee shops.”
“Yeah, but none of them have as good a latte as your shop does.”
She smiles. “Thank you for that.”
I wish I had some of my sister’s comforting coffee right about now. I’d take anything to help squash the sting of Nicholas’ silence.
But I get it.
He hates me.
Maybe he always has, and he did use me to prove some macho point against Pulse. I should be angry at that fact, but instead my heart is broken. The anger of what he’s done is nonexistent. Instead there’s an emptiness of where he once was.
“What will you do for work?”
I shrug. “I’m thinking I’m going to write a book on marketing. Or maybe teach.”
“I’d read that book. I need all the help I can get with Deja Brew.”
“I thought your shop was doing good?”
Her face falls flat. “It was. For a while. Then this asshole from the city opened up his Mug Life Coffee Shop across town and now the numbers have been down.”
I wrap my arms around my sister. “I’m sorry, Feb. Maybe you need to do something to shake things up.”
“Like what?”
“You need to establish yourself as the industry leader.”
“How?” Her look of confusion makes me giggle.
“I don’t know. Declare you have the best latte in town, or something. I mean, your lattes are pretty spectacular.”
She shrugs. “Maybe.”
I hold up my pinky. “Swear to me you’ll do it.”
She holds up her pinky and we connect them. “Swear, but you have to swear to me that you’ll listen to Nicholas when he comes to talk to you.”
“He’ll never come here.”
My sister’s eyes light up as she glances over my shoulder. “Never say never.” She nods a little, motioning that there’s somebody behind me.
I twirl around, my eyes landing right on Nicholas.
He’s here.
At my apartment.
I haven’t even cleaned.
Oh god. I’m standing here in a flimsy chiffon robe. I want to crawl away and hide. My hand raises to the messy bun on the top of my head, and I try to readjust it so it doesn’t look like a pile of mess up there.
“What are you doing here?”
He smiles, and oh my god. It’s unlike any I’ve ever seen him make before. Is this his apology smile?
“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Feb says, giving me one last squeeze before she shuffles off down the hallway.
I watch her fade away for a second before my eyes are back on Nicholas.
“Can we talk?” he asks me.
I nod, tightening the tie to my robe as I usher him into my place. I look around. There’s no quick cleaning this place. It looks like an elf threw up in here. “We went a little overboard for Christmas,” I tell him as I lead him over to the oversized blue sofa in my apartment.
He glances at the gingerbread house made out of candy and graham crackers on the counter and his eyes light up. “Looks good.”
“I thought you didn’t like Christmas things?” Hence the name Scrooge.
He shrugs as he sits next to me on the couch. “I never said I didn’t like Christmas things. I said I never celebrate because I have no one to share it with.”
My heart saddens for this man who has spent the past few years not celebrating because he hasn’t had anyone to celebrate with. “Why are you here?” I ask him, wanting to stay on point.
“I have to thank you, and apologize to you, and tell you that I owe you everything.”
“Oh.” I’m gobsmacked. What is he talking about?
He scoots closer. “It’s all happening because of you.”
“What’s happening?”
He grabs my hand. “You recording Pulse with that confession has been huge. We fired Ron, obviously, but Ron told us everything. About how Pulse was working with the Gaming Commission to get me banned. How he was misleading his own shareholders. How he’s basically in a world of shit because of what he’s done.”
“Really?” My mind works double time to try to keep up.
“Yes, really. Pulse is going down, and my company’s already seeing the boost. We’re developing new things, and…” he pauses. “I, um, need a new marketing director. I want you.”
My chest squeezes at his words. My cheeks grow hot. I know he’s saying he wants me to come back to work for him as a marketing director which should have me jumping for joy right about now, but having him say the words I want you does something different to me. It makes me wish that he wants me, wants me. You know, like in the put-a-ring-on-it-forever kind of way.
