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I pull my lips in a tight line. “Doesn’t make a difference to me anyway, does it? You took the building.”
If my words have an effect on him, he doesn’t show it. He’s completely at ease, strong shoulders relaxed, casually sipping on his coffee and scratching Betty behind the ears.
“What’s the plan for my side?” I ask, curiosity winning out over good sense.
His face pulls into something unreadable. “This’ll become a bar as soon as you’re out.”
My heart sinks, and I know it shows on my face.A bar?“In the meantime, figure out a way to get your shit done over there without disturbing my customers.”
I know I’ll have to leave no matter what, but hearing the details of his plan is like flipping through an ex’s weddingphotos.If I was still in love with the ex.It would have been better not to know how Station 19 would move on without me, but I couldn’t help myself.
Luke just stares at me for a few seconds and then turns to leave. Betty walks beside him out my front door and back through his, following him happily over to his side.His side.That’s what it’s become. His side and my side. Him against me. We’re on opposing sides with a wall of windows running down the middle like a line in the sand.
I pull out my phone and text Devon.
Me: Can you get me curtains for the glass wall?
Me: I don’t want to look at his stupid gorgeous face anymore.
Me: I hate him.
Devon: Just got out of my workout.
Me: Oh shit, sorry. Forgot.
Devon: All good.
Me: I’m so bummed it’s him over there and not you.
Devon: Me too.
Devon: That’s a lot of drapery. Take it you don’t want to wait on a custom order?
Me: Ugh I NEVER want to see him again.
Devon: Got you. Be by this afternoon to measure.
Devon and I found Station 19 together. She got a job after college at a design firm in Palm Springs, and I helped her move down here from Beaverton, Oregon, where we grew up. While we were apartment hunting, we drove by this converted gas station that was half diner, half gift shop. The diner side was for rent, and we got the idea that I should open my coffee shop here and move to Palm Springs with her.
Opening my own coffee shop was my go-to daydream, starting freshman year. In high school, people didn’t like me much for reasons I never understood. Although even then, no one would cross Devon. She was like a tall, blonde, resting-bitch-faced shield that protected me from teasing glances and whispered insults. The only time I felt accepted when she wasn’t around was when I’d sit atCoffee and Trees, our neighborhood’s coffee shop, to work on my homework. The baristas were always nice to me, complimented my attempts at nail art, and included me in their conversations.
Working there was my first job, and a year after graduation, I became the general manager. Everyone else in my family has a master’s or a PhD, but I knew what I wanted to do, and couldn’t be convinced to go to college. For four years, while Devon was away at school, I worked atCoffee and Trees, saved, and planned.
It took an outrageous amount of convincing, a very thorough business plan, and a lot of Devon’s design help, but eventually my parents caved and let me use my college fund to openTurbine Café. I still can’t believe we pulled that off, especially since whenever I talk to my parents now, they still ask me when I’m going to get a ‘real job.’
Turbine has been my life for six years. I love my employees, my regulars, the drinks we serve, the happiness we bring people, and the atmosphere inside my sunny little shop. First,Coffee and Treeswas my safe space, and then withTurbine Café, I’ve gotten to create my own to share with other people. Every day, I watch my dreams unfold into reality.
But I could never have pulled it off without Devon. When I was starting out, she would cover shifts on nights and weekends all the time. She did the entire interior design for free, which was dozens of hours of work. No matter how hard I’ve tried,she’s never let me pay her. Without Devon, there would be noTurbine Café.
Buying Station 19 was supposed to be my turn to give back. I was going to charge her the lowest amount possible to rent the other side so I could help her get ahead like she did for me.
Devon went out on her own last year, splitting from the design firm she moved out here for, and started her own company,Friday West Interiors. Working out of our little three-bedroom bungalow is not cutting it anymore.
I was sure this was the year Mel would finally retire, and she could move into Station 19. The perfect solution. Turns out I was only right about half of that. Mel did retire, but Lucas Pine sucked the life out of our plan with his stupid motorcycle shop.
Fortunately, the morning rush keeps me from dwelling on these things for long. The next few hours pass quickly, with a line out the door for much of it. By the time I sit down next to Hector at the barstool closest to the register for a break, I’m dripping sweat from my temples and my face is flushed red, even hotter than I usually am after a go-go-go morning.
“Why’sLucas Pineso quiet today?” Hector pronounces Luke’s full name in a nasally voice, making it sound like an insult. “What’s he up to?”
