Page 65 of Invisible String
He taps his hand on the counter. “Great. I’ll pick you up at six.”
“See you then,” I respond with a tight smile.
He leans to kiss the corner of my lips and strides out with a pep in his step.
“Something about him gives me a rash,” Isabella whispers. “Could be because he’s a spoiled brat.”
I shake my head at her, laughing, and attend to my customers. The amount of people coming in has my heart bursting—a long line forms at the door. The drizzle of rain outside has patrons coming in for a warm treat.
The day went by smoothly, better than I expected. Books were flying off the shelf, and we sold out of all cookies, cinnamon buns, macaroons, conchas, and other sweet bread. We sold a couple of sandwiches and my mom’s special chili bean recipe. I think it was a success. The only problem is that I need to hire at least two extra people. It was a tad overwhelming, and Isabella is a fast worker, but she is in her mid-fifties, and I don’t want to overwork her.
“Hey, girly girl.” Lana walks in with a beautiful smile. “So tell me, how did your day go? I’m sorry I wasn’t here when the doorsopened.” She leans in to hug me. Lana graduated from college a year and a half ago. She has been my ride-or-die through the years, especially the times when living became painful, and I became a soulless corpse.
“Don’t worry about it. You have a job to be at.”
She follows me to the kitchen and leans against the stainless-steel prep tables.
“I wanted to be here for you. This is big, Rainey. You’ve opened your first café.” She waves her hand around. “You opened a place in Vegas. Like, wow. I’m so damn proud of you. You deserve this. Your mom would be so proud of you?—”
“Would she, though? I know she will be, but she wanted me to return to college and finish becoming a psychologist. She said she didn’t want me to live her dream.”
Lana lays her hand on my shoulder. “Are you living her dream?” Her eyes water. “Your mom would be proud, regardless.”
She doesn’t call me out on it, but she knows I’m living my mom’s dream because I don’t have the energy to pursue mine—more like the motivation is no longer there. It’s easier to pretend. Although, yes, I love to bake, and I love the café. There’s always that missing piece in me that robs me of living. When you pay the price of loving someone, you can’t have a constant ache in your heart that reminds you of it. It’s only a sweet, bitter reminder.
Lana changes the subject by adding. “So, what do you have left? I’m hungry.”
“I can make you a sandwich if you’d like. I’m out of cookies,” I offer, taking my apron off and hanging it on the rack on the wall.
“Here, I can help. Will you have one with me?”
Slicing a fresh loaf of bread in half, I answer her. “I would, but I agreed to go out to dinner with Andrew tonight.”
She grins and walks to the fridge, taking out a jar of mayo. “He’s getting more determined to make you his girl.”
I groan. “He’s wasting his time.”
She smears mayo on the bread and then peers at me. “You don’t know unless you give it a shot. What do you have to lose? Nothing. If anything, have him get you off—tongue, finger, or dick. Anything helps,” she says nonchalantly.
“I’m not using him. I don’t want to hurt him.”
She snorts, walks to the fridge, puts the mayo back, and grabs lunch meat and sliced cheese. “He’s not going to get hurt, and if he does, so what? It serves him right. He broke a lot of hearts in high school. So he says he’s changed but give it a shot. If it works, it works. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t.”
She makes it sound so simple, like walking into Costco and sampling different foods they have to offer. “You know I’m not capable of loving anyone again. I’ve done that, been there, and I will never give my heart to anyone again.”
Lana takes a mean bite of her sandwich, popping her hip against the table. “My beautiful Rainey. I don’t know when or if you will ever feel complete. It’s been four years since it all happened. I know it’s going to take time, but someday, you will be able to. For now, enjoy Andrew’s company as just friends, hell, or even friends with benefits. If not him, someone else. Just take baby steps. I know I sound like a broken record. It’s just that I want my friend back.” Her eyes soften. “You’re still having a hard time with your mom’s loss, which is understandable. But…in recent years, you haven’t taken time for yourself. You’ve kept yourself busy caring for your mom and helping her with the bakery. You really haven’t had time until now.”
I close my eyes and inhale deeply, focusing on each breath. The journey with my mom was a challenging one, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. There was always the possibility of losing her sooner than I would like to admit. It had me holding on toevery moment with her. She and my dad never patched things up in their marriage. Knowing your husband slept with another woman had been a stab to the heart. I honestly believe the stress caused her illness—the heartbreak. I will always blame him for what he did to her and how he betrayed her. Deep down, I hope the guilt eats at him. I know it’s a cruel thing to say. Maybe someday I can forgive him.
“I know, Lana. I’m going to try to move forward slowly. Running this bakery without her is heartbreaking. But when I think of her, I know she’s no longer in pain and in a better place.”
Lana takes a last bite of her sandwich, then chews to say, “She’s in a better place, no longer in pain. It was hard for her to witness her kids seeing her that way. Your mama was a strong woman. She left you her legacy. Deep down, you two share the same interests. Baking for love.”
Once Lana left, Isabella and I cleaned up and prepped for the next morning.
As I lock the door to the café, a drizzle of rain greets me with an icy breeze. Even though it’s February in Vegas. For some reason, this month always feels like the coldest of the year.
Slipping into my 1967 Shelby GT500, I lean my head on the headrest. I take a deep breath and rub my wrist where the inked words lie.Tesoro mío: a reminderneverto fall for him or any man.
