Page 46 of Because of Her

I’d need Amira’s help. More than that, I’d need her to be fully on board.

After tidying the display area, marking down some two-day old blooms and carting all the flowers back into the refrigerated storage room in the back, I lock the front doors and flip the sign to closed.

Often after closing the shop, I stay back to share some posts on our socials, and catch up on some admin. But today I’m on a mission. I throw my laptop into my tote, deciding to do all the remaining admin stuff at home.

Cassidy: On my way home for dinner— are you cooking?

I send the message to Amira, craving a home cooked meal. It’ll be easier to convince her to jump on board with my plan if I’m complimenting her skills in the kitchen. It’s not until I’m climbing the stairs of the apartment building that she messages back.

Amira: We have leftovers, but I’m making dessert.

Even better.

Inside the apartment, the sweet smell of cookies baking makes my mouth water. Fidgeting with my ring, I creep into the kitchen. There’s no good way to ask my roommateto quit her job, so I decide to blurt out the idea before I can convince myself it’s a bad idea.

“I want to open a coffee cart in the boutique.”

Amira spins to face me, turning the electric mixer off. Her bright yellow apron is scattered with flour, and a tiny piece of the icing has flicked up onto her cheek. One of her eyebrows rises toward her hairline as she wipes off the sticky sweet goo, licking it off her finger slowly.

“But you make coffee that tastes like dirt.”

True. And also why I need her help.

“I had an idea.”

She holds her hand up to stop me.

“I need a full stomach for this kind of conversation.”

So I hold on to my thought. Glancing down through dinner at the note I left on my hand, I drop my fork over and over again. My muscles feel twitchy until I can’t sit still. This is a brilliant idea. It’s perfect, I need to share it. And I need Amira to go all in with me.

The second she drops her fork on her empty plate, I scoop it off the table and run it to the kitchen sink.

“You’re right, I can’t make coffee. I also can’t make flowers and serve coffee to customers. But the boutique needs both. The whole strip needs both. The nearest coffee shop is a ten-minute walk away.”

Amira allows her head to bob in a gentle nod.

I’m still pacing the kitchen, working off the adrenaline surging through my muscles.

“If I open a little coffee cart in the boutique, I could cater to every customer from every shop on the street. And while they are there, maybe they will also buy some flowers. But who would make the coffee?”

Pushing to stand, Amira does a little hop before planting her butt firmly back in her chair. I love the way she can read me like a book.

“Who would make coffee, Cass?”

I grab an un-iced cookie from the cooling rack, taking my time to savour the way it crumbles in my mouth.

“I was hoping you would.” Amira jumps from her seat, swatting the treat from my hand. I quickly follow with, “I don’t want to be your boss. I want us be business partners.”

“You want me to use my grandma’s inheritance.”

I wince. She’s right, I was hoping she could use it to cover some of the costs. No doubt they’ll be exorbitant.

Amira stares me down, and tiny beads of sweat form on my temples.

“I’m in, but I have one condition.”

My lungs release the air I’d held in. Knowing Amira, there’s every chance she is going to say something ridiculous. And she does.

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