4 weeks later
Today's the day we've been preparing the brewery for and by the time I've finished getting myself ready and fueling my body with enough coffee to make it through the morning, I head to Samaria's.
The only car that's parked in the lot belongs to Jacob, and despite the enormous red bow—that my husband wrapped in front of the doors this morning on his way to landscape with my dad—a golden light from inside illuminates the navy blue coloring the sky. Since it was only six A.M, we had two hours to finalize everything we hadn't finished detailing last night.
It'd be a lie to say I hadn't been shaking in my boots trying to hold my composure as we checked everything off the list and time dwindled. Once we've finished plating our last batch of cookies until noon, we head up front. Through the glass and the significantly brighter sky, we notice the influx of cars and people beginning to fill the lot. I have my parents to thank for that because, for the past two weeks, they've been posting fliers on bulletins around town and mentioning our grand opening to anyone who would listen.
Jacob and I stand outside the building in front of the red ribbon stretched in front of the door. The pair of scissors needed to cut the ribbon is large enough for both of us to hold, so we do before beginning to count down from five. After five seconds have dissipated, the ribbon falls to the ground and the doors of Samaria's are finally open. The only way to describe the sensation of every sale we made was magical—how cliché—but it isn't so cliché when you've witnessed the success of something you've dedicated yourself to.
At around noon, Justin and Dad decide to show their face. Thankfully, Samaria's isn't as crowded as it was at the opening, and they left shortly after arriving because Dad had another job for them to complete. As terrible as it seemed, I didn't feel comfortable with Justin roaming the streets and in and out of businesses with lots of foot traffic. Neither of us could deny how much time had passed since the tour ended. It was well enough for someone to have located where he decided to take his break.
My husband's success meant everything to me and more, no one could convince me otherwise. But, after his first tour, people started to take more interest in him and even me. It wasn't until then that I realized how truly terrifying it was. Two days into our relocation to LA, someone had enough time to figure out both our cell numbers and our address. An article with pictures of us entering our home was on the internet. In two days! Who's to say someone hadn't already caught wind of all our indiscretions?
I couldn't handle having the news of my infidelity plastered on the internet with pictures of me and whoever they'd speculate I cheated with. It wouldn't be too hard to automatically assume it could be my reasonably handsome business partner. I'd be humiliated in front of the entire world. Again. The worst of all, imagining the news of our pregnancy getting out. Being blamed for the death of your child by thousands of people you don't know isn't fun, nor is it an easy thing not to take to heart. Especially when I had already harbored enough guilt about that all on my own.
Imagining the pictures they'd get of us walking into our home, our doctor's office or the grocery store petrified me.
This spiral has had me conflicted for days about whether or not the news of our child should come directly from Justin. At least then it would be because we wanted it to be known and not because it was stalked out of us without choice. It would eliminate a reason for anyone to assume I cheated in the first place—if someone hadn't already been brewing up a plan to expose pictures of Justin walking out of a clinic.
Pun intended.
Once I've looked at my watch, I realize the day has officially rolled into the night. We click the neon sign in the display windows of the brewery off and begin to close.
"The food sold better than I thought it would. Can you believe we made over two grand in one day? I can't tell you the last time my father and I brought that much money into the brewery before this," he says as he folds the table nooks into their concealed position.
"Get used to it because this isn't the last time that we'll be bringing in that type of revenue. We put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears in this place and I intend on exhausting every ounce of that to keep us afloat and hopefully start selling internationally." Jacob returns the thought with a smile before wandering off to another area of the brewery to clean.
It takes us another hour to prepare pastries for the next day and finally close the brewery for the night. We say our goodbyes and make our way out of the parking lot—peeling out at the same time.
At home, an enormous cake rests on the center of the kitchen island with congratulations written across it. I've only just processed the word before the four of them emerge from their discreet places and tackle me in a hug. Blame the hormones or the fact that I'd barely gotten any sleep the night before, but I couldn't control the tears or the sobs that began to fall.
"You proved me wrong. We're so proud of you and all of the hard work you've put into this, Brooklynn. I can't believe my baby girl has her own business," Dad says, pulling me into a hug of our own.
Justin and I eat dinner and cut into my congratulatory cake while conversing with our family. Dad and Justin eventually take over the conversation to tell us about the landscaping project that took them all day to finish. I watch in awe as my Dad and husband's face light at the mere thought. I wouldn't have it any other way. It was great seeing how close Justin was becoming with my Dad, especially after the vasectomy stunt. Part of me thought Dad would never be able to forgive him and to know that he had and was forming a genuine relationship with him was everything to me.
We leave the dinner table shortly after, both of us well past exhaustion from our busy day. He and I shower together but go our separate ways once we've readied ourselves into our pajamas and kiss each other good night. Surprisingly enough, we were nearing two months of abstinence. It wasn't easy, but because of it, every time his hand caressed me, it was like a dose of adrenaline shot up my bones. For the first time in a long time, I craved my husband.
»
The next couple of days play out completely different than I imagined they would. Samaria's second day looked almost as good as the first, we were only a hundred dollars short of what we made on opening. By the time day four rolled around, we made less than half of that.
Jacob, Justin, and I lounged around Samaria's for what seemed to be forever just waiting for another person to walk into the brewery, but no one came.
When lunchtime arrives, I waste no time making a clean break from Samaria's. The lack of customers was getting the better of me and that only meant I needed to put some distance between me and the brewery.
I make myself comfortable on a park bench a few blocks away and take my sandwich from my lunch box to eat. Since entering my second trimester of pregnancy, I've felt more energetic and optimistic about what the future holds for me and the making of our little family. This business was one testament to how much you can turn your life around for the better, but it didn't feel like that right now.
How could we have gone from selling out of product to barely scraping up two hundred dollars in four days? Was that even possible? As much as I hated letting this be the thing to ruin an entire day, it had. Nonetheless, I expunge my hour, finishing my lunch and soaking in the warmth from the sun, before making my walk back to work. It isn't but a block over that I pass the building that burned down years ago. Now it had been up and on its way back into business, or so it seemed. I notice a few people going in and out of the building, loading wood and paint inside.
The closer I approach Samaria's, the more curiosity starts to get the best of me. Before I left for lunch, the streets were bare, and so were the surroundings parking lots in all shops on the block. Now, nearly every spot was filled. Especially in the lot of Samaria's. It could only mean one thing. People knew.
It takes a fight to make it through the crowd of people crowding the sidewalk in a line that runs from inside. I don't waste time trying to squeeze my way through. Instead, I opt for the back entrance and get in that way. I'm sure it's locked on my way to the front.
Jacob is upfront at the register with the overhead mic clutched in his hand. "I'll take the next guest," he says in sort of a panic.
The building is too crowded for me to spot Justin, so there's no point in searching. I toss my things to the side and ready back up for my shift as promptly as possible—silently thanking God my belly hadn't been big enough to show my pregnancy.
Once I'm beside Jake, I help dish out orders from the other register, while simultaneously trying to converse with him.
"Where's my husband? I thought he was going to stick around and help today," I say, handing a customer her order. "That'll be sixteen ninety, ma'am."
"He did! He posted a picture of him eating here on his social media pages. He left shortly after the first thirty people showed up."
How could I be upset with him when he did all this to bring all these people in here to help our business? Why hadn't a sense of gratitude washed over me instead of the drop in my belly? Rush hour made my desire to crumble to pieces impossible. I swallow the lump gathered in the center of my throat and greet the next customer.
The brewery doesn't halt with customers until we're forced to close for the remaining hours of operation because we sold out—of everything. It takes a good thirty minutes for everyone else unable to purchase or make it inside to begin dispersing from the brewery, but even then, the thought of leaving any time soon was far from me.
Once I've found my footing and made my way over to a nook to sit, the exhaustion settles in. Jacob joins me moments after with confusion written on every ounce of his face, only I'm not in the mood to question it.
"I thought you'd be a tad bit excited to come back to the brewery to find it quite literally overflowing with people. We sold every edible item in the shop today and instead of offering to celebrate with your business partner, you're moping in the corner," Jacob says, plopping down beside me.
He was right, and it only made me feel worse.
"I'm not moping," I lie. "I'm growing another human being in my stomach and just handled the busiest day I've ever had. Is exhaustion not allowed?"
I feel guilty once his back collapses against the back of the nook before apologizing to me. He wasn't wrong, I was, but admitting that to Jacob wasn't relevant. He didn't need more ammunition in the form of details about my struggles with Justin's fame. I shouldn't have even been sitting here in this booth with him right now with us so visibly seen through the windows.
"Luckily we have a shipment due to come in in another hour. It would be a shame to have to close the brewery down because we had nothing in stock. It's going to be a lot of unloading tonight," he says.
All his words do is further overwhelm my thoughts. There was too much running through my head right now I could hardly comprehend any of it, other than the only place I wanted to be right now was home in my room.
I don't tell Jacob that though. "I will let Justin know so he can come back and help you. I'm suddenly not feeling well at all. Will that be okay with you?" I rise from the nook and wait for his response.
He picks himself up from his seat as well and follows close behind me.
"Yeah, of course. After what he did for us. He's welcome whenever. We worked pretty well for the twenty minutes he decided to help behind the register."
All I manage is a closed-lipped smile before throwing my bag over my shoulder in pursuit of the exit. Once I've approached the door, it's like my limbs refuse to take another movement forward. Jacob stands behind me for a moment until he crosses in front of me to push the door open for me. My head was spinning every which way and I was certain if I hadn't sat down in the next two minutes, I would pass out.
"Do you need me to drive you home? You really don't look well. I'll just bring Justin back with me so that he can bring your car back once we're finished."
I see every reason to object—but I don't. How could I when I was petrified of walking out alone at the fear of being exposed? The internet had a knack for building people up just so they could tear them down ten times harder. Instead of walking out the front, I insist we head out through the back. Thankfully Jacob doesn't object or question my requests.