Page 9 of Leo and His Love Bunny

Working in his own business just hadn’t been as fun for him without his life partner by his side.

He seems to be mostly over it, and maybe he is ready to look for love.

I couldn’t believe I am even thinking that way. But after the day I’ve had, I am not going to complain. I am grateful to get my mind off breasts and Leo. And not necessarily in that order.

“Now, you need to feed him tonight at eight o’clock. He’s used to a schedule, so be sure you don’t forget. He has a couple different phrases that he says, but I think it’s pretty much common knowledge that he has no clue what he’s actually saying. So if you think that he is talking to you, don’t get offended. You can just ignore him. Okay?”

“All right,” I say, wondering if the parakeet swears or something. It seems odd that she is worried about it. All I’ve heard him say is “say I love you,” and that seems kind of cute.

Chapter 4

Nora

“So do you want me to bring him down in the morning?” I ask, wondering how long this parakeet babysitting gig is going to be. I have enough trouble taking care of myself, I don’t need to have a parakeet on my conscience.

“No. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to take him back. It might be a week or two. Don’t forget, he likes to have attention, so even though I know you’re going to be at your shop during the day, you have to make sure you give him lots of attention before you leave and after you get home. And if you can come home on your lunch break, that would be even better.”

“I own the shop. I don’t get a lunch break,” I say, and then I try to laugh, as though that is funny.

The truth was, and is, that I work my fingers to the bone to try to make this thing work. I have a lot riding on it, and I desperately don’t want to fail.

I know that is a negative way to phrase it, but it’s the truth. I am far more driven by the fear of failure than I am about chasing success. I love to bake, always have, and owning a bakeshop has been my dream. But whether it makes money or whether it doesn’t, that’s never really been a part of the dream. In fact, combining something I love with earning money has turned it into a job that I’m not very sure I enjoy. Regardless, I can’t afford to not be a success, because I do not want to not be able to pay my bills. My parents are old school, and they’re very much of the mindset that you don’t expect handouts, you work for what you get. I love that, and I agree with it. It’s kind of annoying when someone succeeds without working. Not that I begrudge anyone their success, it just doesn’t mean the same thing if you haven’t worked for it.

I don’t want that to be said for me.

I take the cage from Miss Phyllis and look down at the parakeet. He seems a little sinister. Which is a weird way to think about a bird, but it’s true. It’s almost like...he’s a human in bird form. Which is absolutely ridiculous. I don’t buy any of that garbage.

“All right. I’ll do my best to take care of him. And... I’ll be ready to give him back to everyone,” I say, trying not to appear too eager, as I think about the lease agreement that I need to take care of. Like tonight. So at least I have a home for the next six months.

“All right, you have my number, or you can email me and just let me know if you have any trouble.” Miss Phyllis smiles at me, and I smile back. I don’t think she hates me. I think she actually likes me. And I can’t believe I got off so easy about the cupcakes.

I’m in the elevator when my phone rings.

It’s a special ring, one I have just for my mom.

I almost don’t answer. But as the doors open, I dig my phone out of my bag, shift the parakeet’s cage and food, and swipe to answer.

“Hey, Mom,” I say, trying to sound cheerful but failing miserably, I know.

“Nora. I...just had an interesting conversation with Cordelia Higginbotham.”

“Mom, I can explain. It was an accident. I promise.”

“You accidentally made cupcakes that look like breasts?” my mom says in a tone that says she raised four kids and learned to not take any bull from any of them. I am the youngest, and I definitely had a mom who had been hardened by a life of raising my older brothers, and I couldn’t get away with anything. Not even accidents.

Case in point.

“Honestly, I made the cupcakes, Mom, but Stephanie decorated them.”

There was a pause, and I can see her running that through her BS detector. The one that my brothers have honed to a fine, excruciatingly sharp point.

“So when you saw what the cupcakes looked like, why didn’t you put them in the trash can?” my mother asks in what I’m sure she feels is a very reasonable tone.

I love my mom, I truly do, but she has no idea what it’s like to try to be in business for yourself. She is a schoolteacher, and a good one. But she and my dad work nine-to-five jobs.

They are wonderful parents, and I’m grateful. Truly. But when a person is used to the paycheck just arriving, no matter what kind of work they do and no matter how sales are, or business, or anything else about the company, it just happens, they don’t understand. Whether Mom is a great teacher, or whether her kids don’t learn anything, she still gets a check. She doesn’t understand that if I had thrown the cupcakes away, I would have lost all that money, and I can’t afford it.

Yeah, the idea of owning a cupcake shop is romantic and sweet, until you face the harsh reality that it’s all on your shoulders. You can’t just throw things away because they didn’t turn out exactly the way you wanted them to.

---