Page 60 of Unforgiven in Cheshire Bay

“It has my name on it.”

My mind raced at a thousand miles per hour. “It’s your updated invoice. I was just making sure I didn’t miss anything.”

He lunged for the papers, flipping through them, as his eyes grew wider with each flip.

“You know, you have no right to be going through my things.” I snatched them out of his hands. “I don’t show up at your place of work and rifle through your invoices on cheese and steaks.”

“Why was Chloe’s piece so much cheaper, when it was larger?”

“Different materials; her’s was cheaper wood.” It wasn’t a lie.

His focus remained on the paper, until finally a few thick, soul-crushing moments later, he looked me in the eyes. “Did you gouge me on the mural too?”

I folded the papers in half. “No, I didn’t gouge you.”

He stood there staring, eyes twitching into a slight narrow, and I suddenly felt like one of his employees about to be fired; the darkness in his eyes wasn’t one of happiness and joy.

“But I did raise the price. Slightly.” Saying it didn’t make me feel any better though.

“What? Why?” His gaze narrowed into thin slits, like his lips.

“Because—”

“Because I’m a rich business owner and you figured you stick it to the man like everyone else?” His tone was as ugly as his words, and it ruffled my feathers.

“No, that’s not it.”

“You need to give me something Erin.”

Suddenly my name didn’t have the usual sweet ring to it. “I don’t have to explain anything to you, and I especially don’t need to explain my business dealings.”

“Maybe not your business dealings, but you can explain why the guy you’re dating is paying a higher price than your friends did.”

I needed to circle back to all he was saying to truly understand where his emotions were blowing out from, but my mouth spoke before my brain thought it all the way through. “Are you asking for a discount?”

“Not at all. But I expect fairness.”

“Fairness? Youexpectfairness.” I leaned forward, feeling like my eyes were going to bug out of my head. “Let’s talk about fairness, shall we? Years ago, I ate in your restaurant, back when you had a takeout option. Ordered myself a little grilled chicken wrap. I was six months pregnant, and I figured after working a double shift at the diner, I’d treat myself to a meal; the kind I didn’t have to prepare nor clean up after. However, when I got home and started eating it, it didn’t taste right. The chicken was raw, a gross pink colour, and despite that, was hidden in a thick slathering of sauce.”

He held his breath.

“I got ill that night, violently ill. I called in sick to work the next day as I hadn’t stopped throwing up. After thirty-seven hours of non-stop violent heaving, I went to the hospital, and they admitted me, well us, for dehydration and to keep an eye on my baby. Eventually, I stopped throwing up, but I’d missed two days of work. The boss didn’t like that, didn’t think the reasoning for my absence was acceptable, and fired me. Can you believe that? Now I had no job.”

He stood there, the expression on his face softening for just a touch, but his whole body remained as stiff as a statue.

“I reached out to your restaurant and spoke to the manager. I explained the situation, and he laughed,youlaughed over my distress, and said there was no proof. It was my word against yours and said if I was so god-damn concerned to hire a lawyer. Then you hung up on me.”

He took a half step back, the shadows darkening on his face.

“I relied on the tips and that shitty under-the-table wage to pay my rent, but without that job, I couldn’t afford to pay said rent. My landlord, bless her heart, gave me a bit of grace, but no one wants to hire a six-month pregnant lady. Trust me, I looked. Everywhere.” My heart was constricting as I remembered that horrible time in my life, and although my breath felt like it was losing steam, the verbal diarrhea hadn’t slowed down. “I think you can see where this is heading.”

There was a light nod. “You lost your home.”

“Yep, sure did. All because of an uncooked chicken wrap. That came from your business. So, let’s discuss fairness, shall we?”

He inhaled sharply, blinked a few times, and rubbed his temples aggressively. “Are you the one who called the health board?”

“Multiple times, and I wasn’t even sorry.” My head shook with that, and I crossed my hands over my chest. Because I wasn’t. Of that, I did not have a smidgen of remorse.

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