Page 64 of Six Month Wife
I can’t help but smile at the sound of his voice. He’s so easy to talk to. And despite all the stress around me right now, I can’t deny that Parker has a way of making things a little lighter.
“Okay, fine. I’ll head over,” I say, my tone already softening. “Give me a minute to make sure Sue is good.”
“Perfect,” he responds, his voice warm and amused.
He sounds like a kid in a candy store. At least this doesn't seem like a crisis. I could use a happy favor.
“I’ll let you know,” I say into the phone, then hang up and glance around the store.
Two tables are occupied, which isn't a full house, but it brings energy.
A woman wearing noise-canceling headphones and writing furiously in a journal sits at one table, and the other is a couple splitting an acai bowl and whispering like it’s classified.
The juicer’s clean, the product shelves are dusted, and the POS drawer's balanced. Everything’s… fine.
Sue’s wiping down the cold-press station with practiced efficiency, humming something vaguely country under her breath. I cross to her, trying to gauge her mood.
“Hey, would you be okay holding down the fort solo for a little while?”
She straightens, flicking a glance at the clock, then at me. “Sure.” She offers a small, knowing smile, making me think that maybe she expected this.
“If you're sure, I've got to meet Parker at the hospital. He was being cryptic, but I don't think I'll be long.”
“Take all the time you need,” she says, nodding toward the mostly empty seating area. “I think I can handle the impulse adaptogen emergencies.”
“Appreciate it.” I offer a grateful smile, already pulling out my phone.
She tosses the towel over her shoulder. “You’ve got that look.”
I pause. “What look?”
Sue arches a brow. “The ‘I’m about to walk into something I’ll regret but do it anyway’ look.”
I laugh under my breath. “Well. At least I’m consistent.”
She grins. “Go. I’ll man the store and prep for any essential oil-related crises. I should still be able to finish my inventory if it gets slow, too.”
She acts like I'll be gone for a week. Hopefully, this is a quick stop to see what Parker has up his sleeve, and I'll be back in less than an hour.
As I step outside, the coastal breeze hits me. I text Parker.
On my way. This better be good. I had to pull Sue off inventory.
He replies a second later.
Oh, it’ll be good.
Another follows immediately after.
I'll meet you in the parking lot. East wing.
I don’t know if he’s planning to pull me into a supply closet and ruin my underwear again. Or if he’s about to drop some clause-bomb from our not-so-real marriage that’ll make my stomach bottom out.
Either way, I’m walking into it completely unarmed and unprepared.
18
Parker
