Page 8 of Love You, Mean It

I glanced at my phone again, foot tapping out my annoyance. I’d been waiting for fifteen minutes outside the old Taylor’s department store—it had been Bray’s since the late nineties, but locals all still referred to it that way, an unintentional reinforcement of the Taylor family’s sway over all of us—and still there was no sign of Theo.

I wrapped my arms tighter around my body, the cold prickling through my winter jacket. The windows of the building were soaped over, so I couldn’t tell whether the contractors were inside. I sure as hell wasn’t going to risk setting off some alarm—annoying Theo before we even started wouldn’t help. But I was freezing, and the deli was just sitting there closed while I stood here like an idiot (I wouldnotrisk this meeting getting back to Mimi by calling in one of our handful of part-timers), and a not small part of me was starting to wonder if this was some kind of prank. Seriously, wherewasthis asshole?

I was finally turning to leave, muttering curse words under my breath, when a shiny silver BMW rolled up to the curb, windowstinted so dark you could barely make out the silhouette of a driver. It parked in the loading zone, and out popped—of course—Trip (no,Theo,try to remember it’sTheo) Taylor.

He had his phone to his ear, so he didn’t seem to notice the daggers shooting out of my eyes in his general direction. Though his armor of money probably would have deflected them anyway.

He’d always been tall, somewhere over six feet, but he’d filled out since high school, his ropy, athletic frame broader now, more masculine. He’d stayed in shape—the trim cut of his obviously expensive blue shirt and gray wool slacks made that clear. His once blond hair had darkened, and was cut long on top, swept back now but probably always falling just over his eyes in a way that made women want to tuck it back for him. What I had to believe was a very deliberately cultivated two-day stubble accentuated the strong lines of his jaw. Even beneath a slightly heavy brow, his eyes were startling, a steely dark blue that reminded me of lake water, tiny flickers of browns and greens hinting at things hidden beneath the surface.

In high school he’d been cute, in that smirking jock way, but I had to admit it: He’d grown into full-blown handsome. And really, why not tack that on, he’d already won the white-male-with-money lottery. Still, everything about him—from his just-too-long hair, to his expertly tailored camel cashmere overcoat (left open with a plaid scarf draped inside the collar—cold couldn’t touch aTaylor), to his polished black Beatle boots—just screameddick. Seriously, if I’d been trying to broadcast “entitled arrogance” during my stint as a (failed) theater costume designer, I couldn’t have put together a better look.

I could feel my eyes bugging with fury. I sucked in a fiery breath, digging my nails into the butts of my hands.Stay calm, Ellie. You need this dick’s help.

He bent to grab a tray of coffees, then made his way to where I huddled in the entryway, at no point really looking at me.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Ryan. We’ve got three otheroffers on the space, and you’ve known about the deadline for a month. I like your concept, but if you’re not willing to float a few months while you sort out the licenses, we can’t keep holding it for you…Okay…Sure, talk then.”

He clicked the phone off and turned to me, one corner of his mouth twitching up in an amused smile that accentuated his sharp cheekbones. I hated that I noticed the fucking cheekbones.

“Ellie. You made it.”

“I did. At eight.” I kept my face almost aggressively bright, tilting my head to the side and cocking an eyebrow. If anything, he just looked more amused.

“And you decided to wait here instead of going in? You must like this weather better than I do. Shall we? I’ve got a really busy morning.”

My body trembled with the effort not to spit fire as he opened the unlocked door—of course it was unlocked, why hadn’t I eventriedit?—and swept into the building. I hurried after him, practically running to keep up with his long strides. I knew the height difference wasn’t technically his fault, but trotting after him like a child just annoyed me further.

As we made our way to the elevator at the far back wall, I glanced around the space that had, until recently, been stuffed with tents and kayaks, hiking boots and dehydrated meals. A few shelving units were scattered around the massive room, but otherwise it was empty, and it was surprising to see how vast it was. The ceilings were high, maybe twelve feet, and ornate crown molding ran around the edges, the swirls and folds reminiscent of cake frosting. Every so often a fluted column sprouted through the floor, its crown blooming lavishly at the ceiling. Bray’s had been carpeted, I was pretty sure, but the contractors had already ripped all that out, revealing dark-stained hardwood floors. They were scuffed and dull with age, but you could tell they’d be beautiful refinished. It wasn’t hard to imagine the lovely space Taylor’s must have been when it opened in the early 1900s, a glamorous temple to the gods ofconsumption, the sumptuous setting stoking religious zeal even in those who hadn’t walked through the doors as believers.

“I never realized how pretty it was in here.”

Theo turned to me, his smile looking genuine for once.

“It’s got incredible bones. Bray’s didn’t really take advantage of that.”

He pressed a button on the elevator and I focused on the details: the subtle diamond-patterned coffering of the ceiling, the airiness of the space when dozens of kayaks weren’t leaning against the walls, the vaguely deco brass surrounds on the elevator itself. Mangia couldn’t have found a better location if they’d tried.

The elevator arrived and Trip (no,Theo) thumbed four, the top floor. I frowned, trying to remember the last time I’d been in the store. At least a couple years ago, probably to buy something simple—running shoes, or leggings.

“Was Bray’s really four floors?”

He shook his head.

“The third floor they kept for admin and extra stock. The fourth we rented out separately as office spaces. Frankly, it was hard to keep them filled.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t boot Bray’s out earlier.”

His lips pursed but he didn’t turn to me.

“No one booted anyone out. They had a long-term percentage lease, and the business was solid. They were good partners. But Phil Bray’s ready to retire, so that’s that.” He turned to me, holding the tray out. “By the way, is black okay? I wasn’t sure how you take it, but it seemed like a solid guess.”

Heat rose to my cheeks as I accepted the cup.

“You didn’t need to get me coffee.”

“It’s the least I could do. You were coming to me, on my schedule, all the way across town from your deli. I’m sure this wasn’t convenient. So? Did I guess right?”

“Actually, I usually take three sugars. In fact…” I dug around in my pocket, fingers closing on a single square of paper. The sugar packet was beat up, the words worn away, but it was still intact,thankfully. I pulled the lid off the coffee, tore the packet with my teeth, and dumped it in. “Better than nothing.”

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