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I knock on her door.“Mischief…”
“Go away, Kyle, I don’t want to talk to you.”
Not wanting to bug her, I decide to let her be and give her time to cool.
All through the night I could barely sleep a wink as I keep trying to think of a way to makeMischiefforgive me for not telling her about what her parents did.
Her family runs a shoe business, they make bespoke shoes for men. It’s a business that has been in the family for over three generations. However, in recent times, the business has encountered significant difficulties. The demand for designer footwear has surged, overshadowing traditional craftsmanship.
To be candid, Mr. Ramirez, who has been at the helm, has stuck to traditional and somewhat outdated methods of operation. His approach, while rooted in tradition, hasn't evolved to align with the changing market dynamics. The reluctance to embrace modern strategies has caused the business to face challenges in maintaining its competitiveness in the footwear industry.
He must have gone to my father for financial assistance, and in his ever-corny manner, my father decided to make a deal with him;make your daughter marry my son, and I will give you the money that you need.
Trust my father to only do things that benefit him, even if it means that his son and other people’s happiness is at stake.
The following morning, I decide to work from home, because who am I kidding? There’s no way I will be able concentrate atthe office if I’ve not been able to getMischiefto forgive and talk to me.
A chuckle escapes my lips as I make pancakes to take up to her bedroom. I’ve fallen in love with my fake wife. And it wasn’t planned.
“Good morning, Mr. Anderson.”
I turn to see Maria my cook standing at the kitchen, with the look on her face I know she had caught me smiling to myself.
“Hello, Maria.”
“I didn’t know you wanted to have your breakfast earlier than the usual time, I would have been here early enough.” She walks deeper into the kitchen placing her purse on the kitchen island.
“Nah, it’s nothing, I’m just making pancakes for my wife…” I pause when I realize I just used that phrase for the first time. And it strangely feels good.
I realize I’m lost in thought when Maria walks over to the stove mumbling something about how I’m about to serve my wife burnt breakfast.
Maria takes over the making of the pancakes while I make coffee. When everything is ready, I take a tray of honey glazed pancakes and two cups of cappuccino tomy wife.Okay I think I should use that phrase a little more because it clearly makes me smile.
When I get to her bedroom, I knock for a while before she finally opens the door. “I thought I told you that I didn’t want to talk to you?”
She standing by her bedroom door blocking my way with her slender frame, dressed in a night short black gown, her disheveled from sleep.
“But I do want to talk to you.” I present the tray I’m holding. “I brought breakfast.”
She etches a brow and I quickly add, “of course not, this isn’t a way of me trying to get you to forgive me, I just brought this because I know you will be hungry.”
A heave a sigh as she reaches out and takes the tray from me and as she tries to close the door, I hold it with my leg. “Mischief.”
She finally let go off the door, walks over to her bed and place the tray in front of her as she sits.
“I’m sorry,” I say as I walk deeper into her bedroom.
She gives me the death stare. “You knew and you kept it away from me. We are friends, we are not meant to keep things away from each other.”
I sigh. “Yeah, you’re right about that. I should have told you about it the moment I found out about it, but I was only trying to protect you because I knew that you were going to get hurt if you found out.”
“That’s the point, everyone treats me as if I’m a child, I’m freaking twenty-one for god’s sake.”
“I thought I was doing you good by keeping it from you, I was doing you good, but clearly, I wasn’t. I’m sorry.”
She nods as she cuts a piece of pancake and starts to chew.
“Does that mean I’m forgiven?”
