Page 39 of Between Love and Loathing
He sighed but didn’t say anything. When I offered him a truffle later, he glared at it for three seconds before turning it down.
The next day, Paloma was there again. This time, he asked her if they figured out the front displays. “We went with green apparel in the front like you wanted.” She plopped down right next to him and said, “Oh, let me show you. Green or burnt red earrings for the front display?”
She held out her phone, but he didn’t even look before he answered, “Burnt red.”
“Really?”
He pushed up his stupid perfect glasses that weren’t even falling down his face. “It works with the aesthetic.”
“Fine. You’re right.” Again, my new friend mouthed, “I want answers,” then she was out of there.
Every day after that, she was there, blabbering our ears off. She asked if we were a thing and he answered, “yes,” she glared at me some more, but I was too nervous to say anything further.
And then one day, Dominic wasn’t there, and I got a text from him.
Dominic: I’ll be gone for the rest of the week. When I get back, we should go out. Be seen.
Me: I’m ready when you are.
Dominic: Rita said you’re requesting paint colors. What happened to keeping your wall?
I scoffed at his text message. There was no way I was admitting I was wrong.
Me: I’m going for a softer hue and then fading into red.
Dominic: Technically, that’s a change.
Me: No it isn’t. Screw you, Dominic.
Dominic: Little fighter, if you’re talking dirty, feel free to call me.
Me: Goodbye.
Dominic: Did you hire a team to paint?
Me: I’m capable of doing it myself.
Dominic: Hold off until I’m back.
Me: Do you think I can’t? We have a month and a half until we open, Dominic.
Dominic: I’m aware. I’ll help you when I get back, then you can fuck me to thank me.
Jesus. I thought about that text all week. Even when Paloma was sitting there asking for all the dirty details of our relationship. I explained it had come on fast, but we’d had a history. She bought the whole thing, and now I had to make sure Dominic knew it too.
Still, I didn’t make an effort to text the man. He hadn’t made an effort to tell me where he was going, why he’d gone, or anything of the sort. We weren’t really dating. Honestly, Dominic Hardy was a terrible fake boyfriend and would be a catastrophic real one. Not one I’d ever actually want in my life.
Instead, I worked. All day, every day without any news from him.
“I’m sorry. So, you’re telling me that coffee bean isn’t available to be shipped here?” I gnashed my teeth together, pacing up and down the lobby.
I didn’t have enough space to dissipate the frustration in the air from phone calls this morning.
The resort’s food distributor continued to list off different types of beans just like he’d done for my cacao, my fruits, and some of my herbs. Setting a bakery apart from others meant we needed fresh produce, top-of-the-line ingredients, and fast shipping.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. Like I said, it’s just not doable.”
Trying not to feel defeat, I ended the call only to look up and see familiar, deep forest-green eyes that pulled me in even when I fought them. His black suit, as always, made me feel underdressed in the coral sundress I’d chosen that morning.
