Page 111 of Bleeding Hearts

“I’m sorry, Dem. I know you loved that place,” he says.

“Yeah, I did. But it’s okay.” I pause, looking up at him. “She made a lot of money off the sale. And, well, she decided to give it all to me.”

“What?” he asks, sitting up straighter.

“Yeah, I tried to turn her down, but she wouldn’t let me.” I shake my head, laughing lightly at her stubbornness. “She told me to take the money and use it to open my own restaurant.”

“Are you going to?” he asks.

“Yeah, I am.” I smile. “I told her I’d meet with her and her realtor to look at spaces soon.”

“Fuck yeah. That’s amazing, baby.” He smiles wide, hugging me into him. “So, I guess the personal chef thing is officially out of the question?” he asks, and I laugh loudly.

“You still can’t afford me,” I tease him.

“Maybe not.” He smirks. “I bet there are a few ways I could persuade you into cooking for me though.”

“Oh really?” I raise a brow at him. “You better spend the rest of the day showing me all of them.” The words are barely out of my mouth before his lips are on mine.

I realize in that moment that it’s not just my dream of owning my own restaurant that’s coming true.

All those nights as a child I spent watching fairy tales to distract myself from my harsh reality, I always dreamed of finding the love that they did. The magical, unwavering type of love that you feel in every part of your soul.

The type of love that’s meant to be.

I spent years searching for it, craving it. And now, cradled in Asher’s arms, embracing my own version of true love’s kiss, I know that I’ve found it.

I think of a smaller version of myself, one who was sure that I’d never escape the abuse.

One who was sure that I’d never find love. One who was sure that I’d never accomplish my dreams. One who was sure that I’d never have a sliver of the happiness that I do now, and my heart swells in my chest, proud to know that she was wrong.

And in this moment, I’ve never been happier.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX

Demi – Three Weeks Later

“It’s all yours.” The realtor smiles at me, handing me the keys, Lydia standing next to her, a proud look on her face.

I reach out, taking the keys from her hand and looking around the large space in awe.

All mine.

I knew it had to be from the second we walked in. It’s a corner lot on Luck Street, which already felt like a good omen, but the actual place is stunning.

The outside is a brick building with large windows, taller than me, surrounding every wall. The sunlight shines in at the perfect angle as it rises and sets, illuminating the entire space.

There are currently blinds over the windows, blocking the sunlight from coming in. All of them are closed because that’s the way they were left. Whether I’ll keep those or not is still debatable.

It’s two stories, although the second floor is more of a large balcony. The place used to house a restaurant that closed about six months ago, so it’s already set up the way that I imagined.

Truthfully, I don’t know how the space hasn’t been bought already.

There’s a hostess stand to the left as soon as you walk inside and a large U-shaped bar against the back wall in front of the kitchen. The wall behind the bar is an accent wall made up of an almost iridescent-pink mosaic that sparkles each time the sun hits it.

The rest of the downstairs is open space that I can fill with tables. If you walk to the left past the bar, there’s a hallway that leads to the bathrooms and a spiral staircase right before you turn down it.

Upstairs, there’s just enough room for about ten or so more tables lined against the balcony, looking down on the rest of the restaurant.

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