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She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose loudly before tossing it on the floor, where it joined the growing pile. “No. Neither. He said the new owners don’t want me or anyone. We’re all out of a job at the end of the year. And you know the worst of it?”
“What?” he croaked, forcing himself to relax as he feared the worst.
“As soon as everyone finds out, they’ll be looking for another job and then quitting and we won’t be able to replace them. I’ll be stuck doing everyone’s work.”
“Then don’t. Don’t let Jack screw you over,” Lucas begged, worried that Jack might not be the only one at fault.
“So, I should quit? Be the first rat to abandon the sinking ship?”
“No, that’s not what I’m suggesting, and I don’t have any ideas for you, but you’ll think of something. Did he, um, say what’s going into the space?”
“Some farm-to-table restaurant that I’m sure will be overpriced and mediocre. They’ll be out of business in two years, I bet.” Maggie sounded like she looked forward to their demise.
Lucas scrubbed his face and slowly exhaled, trying to calm the panic. This is badder than bad. There is no way I’m coming out of this alive.
If she found out that he was the one who told his family about Brewster’s, she’d blame him for everything. Plus, he’d told her to get a loan from her parents—something she hadn’t wanted to do—and she’d think he did it intentionally to mess with her. Maggie would think he was an evil mastermind bent on destroying her, but he was just a guy on the outside of his family looking for a way in. To be accepted and have a secure future because the next play could end his career. But maybe it’s not us? Maybe it’s another restaurant?
“Maybe,” he answered, feeling caught in the middle. “But as your unbiased boyfriend, I know that you’ll come out of this. Better than you are now. The universe has other plans for you, like, maybe a bakery?”
Maggie rolled her watery eyes. “Of course I’ll be better than the bloodshot, blotchy, sniveling mess I am now,” she said, scrubbing away the last of her tears. “And what’s it going to take for you and everyone else to give up the bakery idea? It’s annoying.”
“I bet. Probably about as annoying as you not accepting that you’d be great at it.”
“Are you switching from supportive to tough love because I should warn you, I could really use more of the supportive boyfriend and not the jerky tough love one. He can leave.” Maggie leaned against the armrest and hugged the pillow to her chest.
George, her no-good-good-for-nothing cat, was nowhere to be seen. He’d bolted at her first sob.
“Noted,” Lucas said as she clicked on the floor lamp and blinked against the bright light. Lucas looked defeated with his hands loosely clasped between his legs and his bowed head. I don’t deserve him, she thought, looking at her broken cheerleader.
“You clean up good Mr. Rodriguez. What’s the occasion?” she asked as her fingers trailed down his arm. There was something so comforting and solid about him. If she could bottle Lucas Rodriguez, she’d make a fortune, but then she’d have to share him. And she didn’t think she’d want to share him. Ever.
“I was hoping to take you out to dinner. It’s not too late. We could still go, or we could order in? Just tell me what you’re in the mood for and I’ll take care of everything.” He pulled out his phone and looked at her expectantly. “American? Thai? Italian? Chinese? Subs? Mexican? Moo Please?”
Tuna sub, George said, sashaying into the living room with his tail held high. Hold the bread and colorful stuff.
“Surprise me. Menus are in the drawer by the fridge.” George jumped up on her lap and stared at her as Lucas stood. Even in the depths of despair, she couldn’t resist watching him. No one would ever nominate him for the sexiest man alive, except her. There was something about Lucas that drew her in, like pollen a bee couldn’t resist. George put his paws on her chest and knocked his head against her chin, demanding attention.
“Hey, no subs,” she called as she heard the squeak of her junk drawer.
That’s not nice, George said.
You left me.
If you’re looking for sympathy and compassion from a cat, you’ve got more issues than losing Brewster’s.
Yeah, well, petting you would have been comforting, you know. Like you always tell me? Pet the kitty, decrease the stress.
That’s for my benefit, not yours.
Maggie tuned out George and let Lucas’s deep voice wash over her. She couldn’t exactly make out the words, but it didn’t matter. She trusted him, and if she’d trusted him sooner, she might not be in this mess.
He’d told her not to give up and find another way almost two months ago. And what did she do? Nothing. And then when he’d suggested she ask her parents or Five, she’d sat on the idea instead of charging after it. It would have been an easy ask, too, because she’d known they would say yes. Her stupid pride lost her the deal.
Lucas was right, again. It seemed like he was always right, always besting her. Always looking out for her, but not always listening to her. Like his obsession with her owning a bakery. Maggie didn’t want to own a bakery. She knew nothing about running a bakery, but she’d been running Brewster’s for years. She’d dreamed of selling high-quality coffee and tea drinks and homemade muffins, bars, and cookies there. And maybe cake if she was in the mood. But her dream was dead, and she was the only one to blame.
“That should do it,” Lucas said, walking toward her with his phone against his ear. “Ah-ha… Yes… Yes… Perfect… No silverware… Two fortune cookies… Yes, it’s for two people.” He gave her a duh look as he shook his head. “That’s right. Only two.” He rattled off his credit card number and her address and confirmed they would deliver it in about forty-five minutes.
Her stomach rumbled. “Think you can make it?” he asked, sitting next to her.
