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“I just don’t understand why restaurants can get away overcharging for basic pub food. I pride myself on making high-quality cakes for competitive prices that are affordable to anyone.”
“Maybe if you charged a little more, your car wouldn’t be dead in the street.”
I opened my mouth and snapped it shut. “Touché.”
“I know you want to be affordable, but Lanes, your cakes are world class. Don’t be afraid to ask for your value.”
“It’s not about me. It’s about letting someone have the cake they dream of without having to worry about it breaking the bank.”
“It’s admirable, it is, but when you suffer from lifting others up, is it worth it? And look around. This place is fancy. Like you said, mozzarella sticks are over twenty bucks. The woman who ordered a cake from you is not worried about saving money.”
I glanced around at the exposed brick wall that paid homage to the original building, but that was where its humble beginnings stopped. Black leather booths with brass rivets lined the perimeter, while dark wood tables and tufted chairs with crushed gray velvet sat in open spaces. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a glow to the natural light streaming in through the arched window.
Everyone was donning designer clothes, and now that I noticed, I felt extremely under dressed.
“I’m sorry for being blunt,” Nero said, and my eyes snapped away from my five-year-old shirt with a cherry stain on the sleeve. “I just hate to know you’re struggling.”
“I’m not struggling.” The words shot out of my mouth in defense, but even I knew they were weak. Everything that transpired over this little road trip was proof that I was struggling.
Nero’s eyebrow rose, head tilted, and damn it, why did he have to look so sexy when he was basically pitying me?
“Fine,” I blurted. “I’m struggling, but everything will be okay.”
A guy who couldn’t be older than twenty stopped at our table and turned over the crystal water glasses. He produced a pitcher of water and filled each glass before nodding and walking away. I barely got a thank you out before he disappeared.
“I’m surprised it’s not bottled,” I said.
Nero took a sip. “Tastes like tap.” His smile settled, the unease twisting in my gut. “Though, to be honest. Water is water. Who the hell cares?”
“As someone who grew up drinking water out of the hose, I sure as heck don’t.” I picked up my glass and held it to him.
“To hose water,” he said before clinking his glass to mine.
My mind drifted to a simpler time when we ran through sprinklers and chased each other with water balloons. When he was just Nero, Sherry’s cool older brother, who always jumped in front of me to take a balloon to the chest when Austin and Rhone would team up on us girls. Before I noticed that very chest for the first time and couldn’t look at him without a swarm of butterflies taking flight in my gut.
“Do you ever miss it?” he asked as if he could see into my mind. He put his glass down, his fingers fidgeting with the rim.
“Miss what?”
“The days of drinking water out of the hose? When we didn’t have to worry about bills or getting someone to cover your shift?”
“Well, you never have to worry about bills so…” I flashed a smile, and he shook his head.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do. I think everyone misses it. Adulthood comes with responsibilities, and let’s be honest. Responsibility sucks. I love being a business owner and making cakes for a living, but sometimes I wish I could go travel back to Sherry and I playing Barbies in the backyard while you chased Laurent and Franc around.”
A slight smile cracked his lips. “I always wanted to play with them, and they were always trying to get away from me.”
“But eventually you stopped chasing them; they wanted you right by their side.”
“Or they just got tired.”
“Why do you do that?” I asked. Nero had always had his charm and confidence that radiated from him in strong waves, but it was all a façade. At moments that carefully erected wall would crack, and I’d see beneath the layer.
“Do what?”
“Rely on self-deprecation instead of realizing your brothers don’t see you as that little kid who chased them around anymore? They look at you as their equal.”
