Page 71 of Third Time Lucky

He purses his lips glancing around. ‘On second thought, maybe we should keep a stool and a blanket in here – just in case.’

I roll my eyes, closing the door once he’s exited. ‘We definitely need a section for our collection of knives,’ I add, picturing the gleaming blades neatly arranged in a custom-made slot above the workstations.

Aaron’s eyes light up at the mention of the knives. ‘Ah, our babies,’ he says, his voice tinged with reverence. ‘We can’t forget about them.’

This is about as dorky as we get, daydreaming about kitchen knives. We stand there momentarily, imagining the finished walk-in with all its compartments and details.

He leans into me. ‘Which of us do you think will have sex in here first?’

I scrunch my face. ‘You, for sure – no doubt behind my back. That said, no girls in the kitchen – let’s make it our first official rule. You keep your shenanigans to the bathrooms or alley out back. Because I don’t need the health department up my ass after you run your mouth about your conquest.’

Aaron chuckles at my response, a mischievous glint in his eyes. ‘You know me too well,’ he teases, giving me a playful nudge. ‘But I promise to behave… mostly.’

I shake my head with a smile, knowing that his idea of behaving usually involves chaos. But as I look around the kitchen once more, I am completely grateful to have him by my side in this venture.

‘Let’s make a pact,’ I say, facing him. ‘No matter what happens, we don’t do anything that risks us having a falling out and losing the place. While we’re here, it’s about the food, the creativity and the joy cooking brings us and others.’

Aaron’s face relaxes, his usual joking attitude replaced with a more solemn one. ‘I’m in,’ he states, reaching out to shake my hand. ‘We are brothers first, friends second and business partners third. Also, bros before hoes.’

‘Like you’ve ever followed that rule.’ I roll my eyes with a chuckle, shaking his hand firmly.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. ‘That’s me,’ I say, pulling it out and silencing the alarm. ‘I’ve got to meet Lucy about the menus.’

* * *

The walk is short, five minutes at best, and the sun is shining, so what better way to diminish these nerves? Every time I know I will see her, my insides fizz like pop rock candy, and I’m starting to enjoy it.

Queue is a coffee shop on the ground floor of the Q21 Apartment building, across from the New Seasons grocery store off of 21st (not far from my beloved 23rd Ave). Its tall ceilings and industrial vibe are complemented by a pop of color at the front counter – a bright purple that immediately catches your eye. The spiral chandelier adds a touch of movement, and the wooden menu boards set the down-to-earth vibe. Scattered around the space are funky couches, chairs, and bar tables. Along one side, near the entrance, you’ll find a double-sided wood-topped bar with seating on both sides that offers a glimpse into the Q21 lobby, an upscale, ritzy apartment building where my ex-girlfriend, Melissa, used to live.

‘Hi,’ Lucy greets me with a smile as I enter the coffee shop. She’s already sitting at a wood-topped table, her iPad lying on the table in front of her.

‘How’s the restaurant?’ she asks.

‘It’s coming along.’

‘You’re so humble. Even unfinished it’s amazing. Aren’t you excited?’

‘Yeah,’ I say with more enthusiasm. ‘It’s literally my dream come true.’

‘Everyone will be talking about you.’

I cautiously flash her crossed fingers, not wanting to get ahead of myself, but trust me, girl, I’ve got the same feeling.

She chuckles. ‘I ordered you a house blend with cream and sugar.’

‘That’s exactly what I needed.’ I grab a sugar packet and shake it to loosen the contents before tearing it open and pouring it into the coffee mug.

As I mix my drink, she picks up a stylus that resembles a pencil to navigate through the screens.

‘I have a few more questions,’ she says, tapping away on the device.

‘Hit me.’

‘List out prices or simply state a number?’

‘Just a number.’

‘Feminine or masculine?’

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