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“Bambi’s Mother,” Chun said easily, looking up from whatever notes she jotted in that very busy looking spiral notebook. She’d once confessed that she thrived on those chaotic scribblings and had a notebook for each house they’d flipped.
“No.” Marvin cleared his throat. Something had his attention. “Her real name.”
“Leighton,” Jamie said and tossed a glance at the doughnut bin,just as Leo flipped the batch. “Leighton Morrow. She might be in, in a little while. You never know.”
“She damn well better be,” Genevieve said. “I need to see you two in action. You can be my own personal writing inspiration.”
“Well, stick around then,” Jamie said, “but don’t be obvious.”
Genevieve offered a salute. “Got it, boss.”
“Jamie, could you come back here?” Marvin asked. His voice sounded weak and coated in hesitation. The anomaly snagged the attention of the other regulars, who stopped what they were doing and swiveled. “You might want to take a look at this. Um, right here.” He pointed. “It’s an article on Carrington’s and the Carrington family.”
Jamie frowned and accepted the paper, quickly reading the piece on the Carrington family and their business, when a name sang out to her like the high note in an opera. She paused. “I don’t understand. Hmm.” She read the section again and looked up. “It can’t be thesameLeighton Morrow, though. No.”
Marvin just stared at her. Clearly, he had his doubts. She didn’t, though. Right? “Morrow is likely a common name.”
The others looked on with concern written all over their faces. Lisa, meanwhile, was typing something into her phone. “Oh my God.” She turned her phone around, and Jamie moved to her table, eager to see what she did. There was a headshot of Leighton on one of those professional networking sites.Development Analyst for Carrington’s, Inc.“Was she on some kind of undercover mission? Did she mention the new Carrington’s going in?”
“No. Nothing.” Jamie couldn’t believe it. The hope she’d held on to with a vise grip the past few moments evaporated, and dread began to slowly overtake her. She tried one more time. “Hold on a second. Let’s just think this through. Is it all just maybe a coincidence? That she works for Carrington’s and they’re putting in a store nearby?” The legitimacy of the question lasted only a few moments, even in her mind.
“I don’t think so,” Marvin said with regret. She returned to the article and scanned the rest. The last section made official mention of the future Chelsea location and the blocks that would be home to the new store. Hers.Fuck. It had been a one-two punch all along. The woman who’d swept in and stolen her heart was a fraud who wanted to put her out of business. How could it all have changed over the course of five minutes? She folded the paper and handed it back to Marvin,numb. Her brain lagged about three steps behind, shorted out on all the new information. In fact, now she felt a little dizzy, and her cheeks felt cold.
Marvin turned to the group and explained the final details in the story. Marjorie set down her knitting bag. She’d yet to even get started. “But what about Bordeauxnuts? It’s home. To all of us.”
“They’re going to buy out the owner and evict us,” Jamie said, flatly.
The room went silent, leaving only the sound of the milk frother, which now sounded garish with its high-pitched whistle, almost like a little scream.
“Hey,” Genevieve said, whirling around. “I’m a believer in happily ever after, and this story is not yet over. Do not give up on this place, okay? It’s ours. All of ours. Nothing’s final.”
“Yes. You’re right. I hear you.” Jamie tried for a smile, but her eyes were beginning to fill. She had to get out of there and fast. “If you’ll excuse me for a sec. Leo, you got this?” He nodded once solemnly, which meant he’d heard the news. She walked quickly because the tears were threatening to fall any second, and embarrassment was queen. Jamie wasn’t a regular crier, but this was beyond everyday scope.
As soon as she was behind the closed door of the storage room, she let go, reaching for the arm of the chair against the wall and blinking through the waterworks. Her throat strangled and her stomach swirled. She wasn’t even sure what to focus on first. Her brain cycled between losing the store and feeling like a fool for falling for Leighton, sleeping with her, and foolishly believing she might just be the one.
The notices that were surely on their way were simply a formality. The freight train that was Carrington’s was already en route to take them out, and it’s not like a small business owner renting space in New York City could do anything to stop it. She had to figure out what her next step was, where she was going to go. Would her customers find her in a new spot? Would she be starting all over? There was too much to sort through, and her heart hurt. She loved this place, her neighbors, the local customers—even the little bench a few yards down was special to her. She sat on that very bench the afternoon she turned her first profit and smiled from ear to ear as the world shuffled past. She’d been on it when she heard the news about her father’s diagnosis. How could this have happened?
Now, hours later, as she sat alone inside the darkened café, Jamie allowed herself to feel the feelings she’d had to shut off to get through her workday. She’d mustered up the fortitude to smile and engage with customers, all the while her heart was breaking.
But now, she let herself unwrap the day. Interestingly, of all of the moments, there was one image that played in her mind like a scene from a film on repeat. It stood out from everything else, and it was the look on Leighton’s face when Jamie told her not to come back. She’d gone very still and placed her palm flat on the table as if the smooth, cool texture would ground her. Her brown eyes had been sad, but she’d left things there, quietly exiting the bar.
Jamie couldn’t remember what varietal of wine she’d poured for herself just minutes earlier, but could recall every tiny detail of that exchange, etched into her brain like granite.
When she looked back on her time with Leighton, the woman who’d captivated her in every sense, all she felt was disoriented. Leighton claimed it had been real between them, but how could she ever believe anything that woman said now? She wasn’t the person Jamie thought she was and was, in fact, the very reason Jamie was at her lowest. No. She had no plans to forgive Leighton Morrow now or ever.
Jamie Tolliver felt like a lost soul, sipping her wine in the dark, tending to her tears, and wondering desperately what was next.
Chapter Eight
Three years later
Jamie’s girlfriend, Monique, was a lot of things, but quiet in movie theaters wasn’t one of them. Everyone had their faults, and luckily Jamie could handle this one. Mo was just exceptionally curious when it came to dissecting even the simplest of plot lines. It was cute, in a way. It meant she was fully invested.
“Where is she going?” Mo whispered in Jamie’s ear.
“I don’t know,” Jamie whispered back. “I haven’t seen this film before. We gotta watch.”
“Is she serious right now?” She clutched Jamie’s arm. That was rhetorical, right? “Does she know her mom knows about him? I would so freak out. Does she know?”
