Page 30 of The Love Losers

ANTHONY

Laughter gusts from me. “I didn’t know that was your plan. I sent them away because I was waiting for you.”

A bright smile lights her up. “You really sent them away for me?”

“Of course.”

“I guess I forgot to tell you the plan. I could pretend I was trying to keep you on your toes, but I think I’m just bad at making plans. If my mind weren’t in five million different places at once, I’d conquer the world.”

“You’ve already conquered this bar,” I say, glancing at Dom, who looks harried now, like he’s not quite sure what do with this many customers. “Dom told me he’s never had this many people in here at once.”

“I did it for both of you,” she says, looking pleased. “I’ve spent days hyping this place up on Facebook. Not Instagram, obviously, because photos don’t lie.”

I laugh. “Maybe we should have done something about the interior first.”

She lifts her eyebrows. “Youarethe landlord.”

“But not the owner.” The owner is a guy named Remus. I’ve never met him in person, only on a single introductory phonecall, after which we’ve solely corresponded over email. He’s sent me a hand-knit scarf every Christmas since I bought this building. I’ll feel pretty damn guilty when I open my scarf this year.

I pause, considering. I probably shouldn’t tell Rosie this part, but it’s been on my mind, wrapped around my shoulders like a weighted blanket. “Rosie, this whole building is going to get bulldozed. The developer for the deal my colleague and I have been working on has plans for this land. It’s one of the reasons they’re willing to do business with me. This location is part of their preferred map, and it’s a no go for them unless they loop me in.”

A furrow forms in her brow. “That’s not a very nice Christmas gift for Dom. I’m not sure he’ll ever get over it. Gene either. You know, Dom’s getting him a plaque for his table.”

I sigh, not bothering to ask how she came across that information. I’m guessing she could convince a perfect stranger to hand over their birthday and social security number. “I’m not sure I’ll get over it either. There’s…” I pause, taking a moment to gather myself. “I had big plans for this place. It just never happened. And business has been bad at Smith Investments for the last few years. This is my chance to turn things around. I have to try to do that for my employees.”

“Yeah,” she says, “all you have to do is give up your dream and marry a stranger. Sounds like a great deal.”

I smile at her. “When you put it that way, I’m almost inclined to feel sorry for myself.”

“Don’t hold back on my account. I’m a champion at feeling sorry for myself. It’s pretty hard when Joy’s around, though. Whatever’s wrong with you, she’ll tell you she has a tea for it. But you should ask a lot of questions before drinking it, for obvious reasons.” She pauses, watching me, and I feel her perusalbeating into every cell of my body. Changing me. I lean forward without meaning to.

“Was Jake’s fake wife really a bust?” she finally asks. “I’ve asked him about her…okay, interrogated him…and he seemed pretty positive she didn’t hit on you.”

“She didn’t,” I find myself admitting. “She’s a consummate professional. I think you have an inflated view of the power of my collared shirts.”

Her gaze moves over me, as if assessing my statement. I am wearing one today—white with blue pinstripes—and yes, I wore it for her. Liquid heat floods my body as she reaches out to adjust my collar, her fingertips glancing over my flesh. “No,” she finally says, her voice a little husky. “I don’t. So why haven’t you announced your engagement to the consummately professional accountant with poor taste? She sounds like the answer to your problems. You should marry her.”

Disappointment tastes bitter, like crab apples pulled too early from the tree. I hadn’t exactly thought she’d propose to me, but I’d hoped the interest that has been festering inside of me was shared.

“I find I’m having a hard time going through with it,” I admit. “I wanted to meet you tonight. It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted to do anything.”

She’s quiet for a moment, and then she leans forward again and touches my arm. I feel her fingers curling around my arm, and my hardened heart beats faster.

Maybe…maybe. Who’d have thought a mere possibility could be this sweet.

“I wanted to meet you here too. I feel…” She swears, shaking her head as if she’s laughing at herself, then says, “Joy would absolutely build an unsteady house of cards out of this, but I feel like we’re meant to be important to each other in some way. I’ve felt it since that day at your house.”

My mouth forms a smile without bothering to consult my mind. “You mean the day your friend dosed me with mushrooms and my fiancée left me?”

Her lips lift. “For a second, I was afraid you’d forgotten.” She’s watching me intently again, and neither of us speak right away. Then she reaches across the table and lightly bops me on the nose, her finger spreading a glow through me as if it were Tinkerbell’s wand. “Consider this your warning. I’m about to ask you a big, meaning-of-life question, Anthony Rosings Smith.”

“I can’t guarantee I’ll answer,” I say, holding her gaze.

“Yes, you’re a man of mystery,” she says with a teasing smile. “It’s kind of sexy, and I wouldn’t want to ruin that for you, but what would you do, Anthony, if you could doanything?”

No one’s ever asked me that before.

I haven’t even dared to ask myself that.

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