Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“You would.”
“The place might not even be available.”
“It might not,” she seconds, then pauses. “But what if it is?”
I picture Sundays with my favorite people. “I’d like that.”
Especially since nothing, not a damn thing, about this moment and this romance and this time with her has ever felt fake.
That night after we take the girls out to dinner at a cute little sandwich shop next to a handmade soap and lotions store, Elodie tugs on my hand, pulling me back toward her as the girls wander inside.
We’re standing under the sign for a shop named The Slippery Dipper. “Thanks for bringing us here,” she says.
“Anytime,” I say, and I relax, knowing we’ll have all our anytimes. Well, as long as I do one more thing. “You’re my wife, after all. And you’re staying my wife. Just in case that wasn’t clear.”
She laughs. “It’s very, very clear. And I like this order a lot.”
EPILOGUE
A SECOND TIME AROUND
Gage
Early next week, I trot up the steps that lead into the courtyard of The Escape, heading toward the lobby for Felix’s office. I scheduled an appointment to meet with him, telling him I had two things to discuss.
I’d be lying if I said my muscles weren’t tense. But a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.
Own up.
In his office, with the door closed, seems as good a place as any to do it. But when I near the pop-up shop, I do a double take. Felix is there behind the counter, stocking more items. I peer. Are those our Special Edition T-shirts?
Yeah, they are.
He waves me over. So much for the privacy of the office, but at least the shop is closed.
“Gage,” he says, when I push open the door and he adds a new shirt to the stack. “We can’t keep these in stock, but that’s a good problem to have.”
“Definitely,” I say, and then I nod toward the shirts and other merch. I’m a goddamn bartender. I know how to talk to anyone. “Did you ever think you’d be selling merch for a hotel?”
He smiles. “I can honestly say never.”
We shoot the breeze for a bit, but then he pauses, comes around the counter, and gives me a straight-shooter look that disarms me since I’m so used to his grandpa style. “But you’re not here to make small talk. What’s going on?”
I suppose that’s no surprise. He runs a wildly successful business. He doesn’t have time to dick around.
“Sir,” I begin, since he feels like a sir right now.
“Yes?”
I swallow down my nerves. “I’d really like to keep doing this.”
“Special Edition?” His voice pitches up with tempered hope.
“Elodie is pretty busy with her store, and honestly, I want to spend more time with her on weekends.”
He smiles warmly. “That’s great.”
“But we’d love to do the cocktails and chocolates once a month, if that’s of interest to you. And we all really enjoy the Sunday pop-up. Is there any way you’d consider extending the lease on Sundays for me? And my grandma and the kids?”
Now that I’ve said that out loud, it’s a big ask.
He exhales, his face unreadable as he seems to give it some thought. “I have to see what else I might do with the space. But I like the idea.”
“Great,” I say, but that was the easy bit of this two-part convo.
“And your other matter of business?”
No point dragging my feet. “And the other thing is…Elodie and I weren’t actually engaged when we rented the place.”
His brow knits. “Excuse me?”
Shit. I’ve offended him. But I soldier on. “We had the impression you wanted us to be engaged, so we pretended to be. You said you’d prefer to lease to a committed couple, so we decided to act like one.”
When the ruse registers fully, his expression falters. “Oh.” It’s said with more disappointment than I expected.
“I’m sorry we lied to you.”
He scrubs a hand over his beard. “And the wedding? Was that a lie too?”
“No, we really got married, even though it was a little impromptu,” I say. His eyes stray to my ring, like he’s checking the facts, so I keep going. “And we’re staying married. But I wanted you to know the score.”
A smile shifts the corner of his lips, but he seems to fight it off as he asks, “So you faked it, but got married for real, and fell in love?” He sounds too amused. That has to be a good thing.
“Yes, sir.”
“I did have a good feeling about the two of you.” He sighs contentedly. “I can just tell. It’s a gift of mine.”
He doesn’t sound mad in the least.
But he also doesn’t offer me the lease. “I’ll let you know if it’ll work out,” he says.
After dinner that night, Elodie and I pore over real estate listings in San Francisco, scouring rentals. “We can’t stay here much longer,” I say, looking fondly at Zane’s palace of a place.