Page 57 of Waiting Game

Feeling defeated and as if a stone has permanently settled in my stomach, I pull out the drawer that’s filled with more of Chuck’s denial.

It’s as big as the river too.

He stuffed letters in there. Whether they were black or red, they made their way into this one fucking drawer.

But this is the worst of all. Especially as it’s dated two months ago. Which means that huge debt has daily interest being added to it as we speak.

A part of me wants to cry, but another, bigger part of me is angry.

He dumped this on my shoulders, and somehow, I have to make this work. People are relying on me—not just my staff who need their salary but the customers too. This place is a safe haven for many.

Chuck, with his stupidity, put that at risk.

“Mia?”

I turn to the door as it opens. “Yeah, Dionne?”

“I think Cupid got out of the office again,” she drawls, amusement lacing the words as she walks in with my cat in her arms. “I’m starting to see that she lives up to her name.” She rubs her nose on her head. “Cupid the Cutie Cat.”

Sighing at my rogue feline’s antics, I ask, “Could you get her a dish of water, please?”

I decided to bring her with me because she’s been sad. I get the feeling she misses Chuck popping in, and I figured the scent of this place might help. Instead, she’s spent half the time getting into mischief.

“Of course. I’ll make sure that she doesn’t escape when I come in.” Dionne studies me. “Do you need anything, Mia?”

Two hundred thousand dollars would be awesome.

Not that I say that.

Even if I really want to.

My smile is even weaker this time as I shake my head. She hums at me then fades away, leaving me to the pile of mail that feels like a scarlet letter.

When Cupid winds a path toward me, I let her jump onto my knee, finding comfort in her scent and in how she nuzzles my chin.

“What am I going to do, Cupid?” I ask, but she has no answer for me.

At least, not one that hasn’t already occurred to me.

Staring blankly ahead, I sit there, absorbing the terrible truth that I might have to sell the bar.

That’s the only light at the end of the tunnel.

The building is mine and the bank’s, but without the building, there’s no business.

Which means that what my great-granddaddy established is something I’ll be the one to wreck.

Anger is what’s getting me through this. I’ve always had anxiety issues, but I’ve mostly managed to keep a cage on them. Chuck’s death unlocked that cage and let my fears out to party.

But I have to get through this so railing at my uncle’s stupidity is helping. Selling isn’t something I can abide by—not yet. Not without trying to turn things around on my terms with no Chuck there to undermine my projects.

The door opens and Dionne steps in with a ‘Chuck’s’ tumbler tucked under her arm while two dishes are in her hand. She places one beneath my nose and another in front of Cupid. She pours water from the tumbler into her dish and then hands it to me.

“You’re not going to fix anything if you don’t look after yourself, Mia,” she chides when, grimacing, I thank her.

The tumbler’s half-empty by the time I answer, “I’m not hungry.”

“Sometimes, you just have to eat.” She tips the dish toward me. “Everything okay?”

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