Page 95 of Britta & the Beach Boy
“Let’s talk baby names,” he says.
“Baby names?” There’s obviously been a miscommunication. Maybe Celsius has a second sexual meaning in Australia.
“For your shop. That baby.” His voice is so dry, there’s no way to miss the teasing in it.
“Ha.” I flip onto my back, accidentally brushing his elbow with mine. Just that smallest touch makes me want to be closer to him.
“We can still cuddle, right?” I ask him. “Especially with it being an icebox in here?
He answers by pulling me into his arms, and I rest my head against the boniest part of his shoulder so I can’t get too comfortable. Just to be safe.
“How about Britta’s Brew? Or Britta’s Beans?” Dex asks.
“I don’t want my name on it. I want people to understand it’s a coffeeshop just from the name, but I don’t want it to be about me. The shop is really about people like Diva and Mitzi.” I keep my eyes on the ceiling, because I’m focusing. I willnotget distracted by Dex.
“So, you want something that will draw attention to the work you’re doing with the homeless?” He asks, also speaking to the ceiling.
“No. That feels performative, like I’m doing it so we can all feel like we’re doing something complicated to solve an easy problem, when really it’s the other way around.” I reach up to still Dex’s fingers tapping my shoulder, and somehow our hands end up linked. “That, and I don’t want anyone who works for me to be defined by their circumstances.”
Dex huffs a laugh.
“What?”
“You’re really good at putting other people first. I reckon that’s what I like most about you.” He squeezes my hand. “But also, the reason we have to keep this between us at a business level.”
“I’ve never shared a bed with a business partner. Probably because my brothers have been my only business partners.”
“Yeah?” His chin scrapes the top of my head when he looks down at me. “Archie and I have shared lots of beds—’specially in the early days. This is standard business operations for me.”
I laugh.
“Never kissed him, though.” Dex goes on. “Or anyone else I’ve been in business with. You hold that rare honor.”
“Maybe we should change the subject.”
Dex doesn’t miss a beat. “How about Deja Brew?”
I roll the words over my tongue. “I like it, but I think I want something a little more sophisticated than whimsical.”
We go back and forth with a few more ideas until Dex suggests West Coast Brew.
“It’s good, but not quite there.” Then it hits me. “West Coast Roast! What do you think?”
“Perfect,” he says with a yawn. Within minutes, he’s asleep in my bed.
The next morning when Dex comes downstairs, I assume he’s getting ready to surf. Then I notice that he’s not only wearing a shirt but also real shoes, not flip-flops. The only other time I’ve seen him in both shoes and shirt was on our wedding day.
“What’s the occasion?” I hand him the flat white I’ve just made with the gourmet espresso machine in the fancy kitchen.
“We’ve still got work to do at West Coast Roast, right?” He sips from his mug, then raises his eyebrows in approval.
“Don’t you have your own work to do? You’ve been out of the country for two weeks.”
“Out of the countryworking.I told you I’d help, and I’m going to help… but we should probably leave before Archie shows up. I’ve done my yoga and meditation, but surf will have to come later.”
One thing I’ve learned about Dex since we’ve been married is that he’s very dedicated to his training routine. His mornings always start with yoga or strength training—either with a video or his personal instructor—then surfing. His meals are more balanced than Simone Biles on a beam and he has a strict bedtime. At least, he does when he sleeps in his own bed.
Dex’s discipline is impressive. But also, a little disappointing, because I doubt he’ll deviate from our decision to keep our relationship strictly business. Or at least, mostly business with a healthy slice of friendship. Business platonic?
