Love in his Lie

Money

The lunch rush died faster than I hoped, and as we neared the end of our day, I spotted Wes walking up to our storefront. He stood outside our doors for a few minutes, watching the last of our lunch crowd slip in to snatch whatever sandwiches we had left in our display case. At exactly 1:30, he reached for the door and stepped in himself.

We didn't say much as we walked a few blocks down the street. I thought to comment on the warmth of the afternoon sun or how the daffodils growing at the base of the trees lining the sidewalk were our first signs of spring. However, every word became a twisted knot on the back of my tongue, threatening to choke me. So I turned to watch the display windows go by, dispersing the lost bits of conversation from my throat by humming a disjointed tune. When I dared to face him, I thought I caught the shadow of a smile, but upon noticing my gaze, it vanished. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment over his amusement and I couldn't look at him again until we reached the cafe.

"River's," I muttered as we approached the door. "I like it here, we often get take out for lunch."

"You aren't competitors?" He followed our hostess, who directed us to a table out on their patio.

"Oh no," I answered with a firm shake of my head. "We may both sell coffee and pastries, but it's not the same. They focus on coffee, the pastries are just a side note and they have an actual menu for lunch. Our customers, however, come to us for donuts, and the coffee is just something to dunk it in. We sell lunch because there's a need for quick service in our neighborhood, while here—even with take out—you need to wait for it to be made."

"I see." He nodded his head and, though it may have been only two words, it was still enough for me to catch the change in his inflection. He didn't present himself in the flat, stiff monotone I'd heard prior. Now he seemed honestly interested, his dark, piercing eyes following mine, while his finger brushed his lower lip in consideration.

I felt some heat touch the tips of my ears and I turned to watch a pedestrian and his dog.

"Where do you work? Have you been to River's before or did you just look for someplace nearby to have this little, uh, get together?"

"I'm a regular here." He flashed me a guarded smile. "I work nearby."

"Oh? Where?"

He answered by leaning back in his chair, protecting his eyes from the sun with his hand, and then pointing at a window towering over us.

River's sat at the base of the Carmichael Tower, one of the taller buildings in the city. As such, I couldn't identify which window Wes pointed to, but it was pretty clear he sat far up on the tower; which meant he also worked for some rather important company.

"Wow." I craned my neck to assess the height of the building. "What do you do there?"

"Push numbers around." He shrugged and didn't elaborate further. "It's all very stiff and corporate."

He paused for a moment as we gave our orders to the waitress. Despite his affirmation that he didn't mind me getting any drink on the menu, my recent indulgences with alcohol kept me mindful of my diet and I got a simple espresso while he ordered a regular decaf coffee and a salad for lunch. Once the waitress walked away with our menus, I thought again to ask about the meaning of his visit, but he didn't seem quite done with our previous topic.

"So how is it on the other side of things, running your own small business? Justin told us you started out with art history and eventually moved to baking—which is already a rather admirable move..."

"It is?" My cheeks burned at his compliment. The shame of dropping my major and practically flunking out of an acclaimed university my parents had paid for was one reason I never moved back home afterward. I could have taken up a community college in my hometown, but I stuck it out with Mindy instead. She helped me find a nearby school with a baking program so we could remain roommates. Mindy has always been supportive, but outside of her, no one—not even my family—had ever remarked on the shift as something to be commended.

"Sure," he continued, "it's a scary prospect to drop everything and change your path, especially for a trade skill that you didn't have any professional experience in. And then to start your own business, I'd definitely say that's worthy of respect."

I bit the inside of my cheek, preventing some emotion from tickling my eyes. Mindy and I were proud of what we accomplished with the Dough Divas. However, whenever we had to patch up our own clothes because we couldn't afford new ones or stretch our leftovers to cover us for a week's worth of meals just so we could keep up with rent and bills, it certainly looked more and more foolish. I spent most of my trips home listening to my parents scrutinizing my appearance, fussing over how ragged I looked, and asking if I get enough to eat. I felt Wes's praise was undeserved, so I swallowed down my emotions and gave him the reality of the situation.

"Well, it's not all sunshine and rainbows. Mindy was a hospitality major in college. She worked internships while I got my certificate. When I graduated and was trying to figure out what to do next, she wanted to invest in my baking and start a business together. She could have managed an established restaurant if she wanted to, but she's always been ambitious. It seemed like a good deal though since I'm not great with people. I got to bake without the bother of handling customers and she got to build up a loyal fanbase with her charm. Neither of us, however, has any business sense. So we're a bit stagnant in that aspect."

"I suppose Justin will be an excellent asset to you, then." He took a sip of his coffee, which had just arrived at the table. "With his masters in finance, he should be able to help you and his money should give you the financial boost you might need to get things going."

"I..."

He said it so nonchalantly that I didn't know how to react. Not to mention I didn't even know Justin had money. It made sense that he might have a healthy bank account, since international sales certainly sounded like a fancy job, but he looked like any other suit walking in for his morning pastry. I also got the impression, after seeing Justin's childhood home and the taxes that went with it, that his parents were far more well off than I knew. But, I didn't know that when he first made my heart flutter, and it certainly didn't matter now.

"I don't care about that," I stammered. "That's not why I like him."

"It's okay." Wes's voice vibrated with a light chuckle. "I didn't mean it like that. Justin has given us every impression that you've worked for all you have. I was just thinking it was nice that my brother could help you if needed."

A sweet smile peeked out from behind his coffee cup and though he didn't have the large, vibrant eyes of his mother and siblings, his gaze carried a sort of sparkle that was magnified by his squint and the dark shadow of his brow.

"Well, I'm only expecting to get the love of your brother out of this union." I felt the heat touching my cheeks again, and I turned my eyes down to the leaf pattern formed in the cream of my espresso.

"I'm sure you are," he said, the playful inflection of his voice disappearing and his grim monotone reemerging. "Unfortunately, with my family, that's not how it works."