“More that he thinks of himself as some kind of monster,” Chelsea said. “But that’s not fatal. Neither of those things is. You just have to show him the difference.”
She shook her head slowly. “Honestly, Chelsea, I think you were right to begin with. I don’t want a man I have to work this hard for.” She sipped her coffee, sipped it again. Her spine straightened a little. Then she said, “Can I get a to-go cup?”
“Sure. Where you going?”
“The cantina. Apparently I’m the one running things while he’s singing to horny honky-tonk honeys.”
“He only has eyes for you, Lily. You want some breakfast first?” Chelsea asked.
“I’m good.”
“I made blueberry muffins.”
“I could take one to go.”
Chelsea went to get a muffin. Lily opened the folder and looked inside. On the very front was a letter from Ethan. She glanced at the kitchen, where Chelsea was warming her bun in the microwave. Ther was time, so pulled out the single sheet of paper, written in Ethan’s messy scrawl.
Hey, Lil,
You’re probably mad as hell at me right now, and I don’t blame you. But I want you to set all that aside and consider this offer. For all you’ll be doing now that I have to go, I ought to double your salary. But I didn’t take out a big enough loan to do that. So I’m offering something else instead. Half-ownership. You’re doin’ all the work anyway. Think about it.
I’ll be home for the grand opening. We can do up the paperwork then, if you agree. Everything you need to run things in the meantime is in this folder.
Do whatever you want with the remodel. I’ve loved every idea you’ve had, so cut loose. I can’t wait to see it.
Ethan
Nothing personal. Nothing about his feelings, or that he’d miss her. Nothing to give her any modicum of hope whatsoever. God, why did she even care?
The dam broke, and her tears spilled.
Chelsea came in from the kitchen with the bun in a plastic container in one hand, and a bottle of ibuprofen in the other, but she set them aside and wrapped Lily in her arms. “Oh hon!”
Lily sniffled and wiped her wet cheeks. “Sorry,” she said, then she nodded. “He left me that.”
Chelsea looked at the note and when Lily nodded, she picked it up and read it quickly. And then, very slowly, a smile spread over her face. “Don’t you see what this is, Lily?”
“I don’t know.” She sniffled harder. “Guilt, maybe?”
“No.” She slid the letter back into the folder. “He can’t let go of you. He tells you he’s leaving, that you can’t be together, and then he immediately finds another way to tie himself to you.”
Lily blinked, lifting her head to meet Chelsea’s eyes, which immediately went soft and sympathetic.
Chelsea handed her a paper napkin. “He probably realized how angry you’d be at him walking away like this and got scared you’d tell him to take this job and…you know. So this is his solution. He can’t let go of you. He probably doesn’t even see it himself. Yet.”
Lily took the napkins and wiped her tears. “You think that’s what it is? He’s trying to hold onto me?”
“I’m a psychologist,” she said. “And I think it’s blindingly obvious.”
Lily considered that, and that he was naming the place after her. Well, her and her mom, but her really. That didn’t seem like the act of a guy who didn’t want to be with her.
She couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her, or the way her eyes fell closed. “I really, really don’t want to get my hopes up again,” she said.
“Focus on the cantina, then,” Chelsea said. “I kind of think you’ve found your calling, there. Your father does, too.”
“You guys talk about me, do you?”
“Of course we do. We chat about our kids while cooking together whenever he’s here.” Chelsea dropped the ibuprofen and the plastic container into the gaping top of Lily’s shoulder bag and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Have a great day, Lily.” And then Chelsea’s phone buzzed from where she’d left it lying on the table.
