Page 22 of Strike
“I know, I know,” I said, waving a hand at her. “Almost burned alive on Tuesday, only to have my heart snapped on Friday.”
“It doesn’t mean he was going to see someone else,” Macy countered. “Do you want to see him again? Did you get the vibe he might be interested?”
“I’m so confused.” I thumped my forehead onto the tabletop. “Everything’s chaotic, and I can’t handle it. I don’t want a broken heart on top of my burned-out shop.”
“If you want to see him again, just ask.” She said it like it was the easiest thing in the world.
I slapped my hands over my face and moaned dramatically. “What if he says no?”
“Then he says no. But he might say yes, too. Agonizing over it won’t help, so it’s better to put it out there than stew over it.”
“You’re so wise.”
“You’re so drunk,” she said with a giggle. “Completely blotto.”
“Uh, I need to pee really bad,” I said, starting to laugh.
“Then go pee, and get yourself into bed, girl.” I didn’t move, my smile fading, and she added, “Don’t worry about Mark tonight. Things will look clearer in the morning.”
“Do you think so?”
“I know so.”
Dragging myself into the bathroom, I hoped she was right.
Iwas toochicken to send Mark a message after that. When Monday dawned and reality knocked, I pushed the awkward encounter to the back of my mind and rode the tram to the city.
Standing in the charred shell of The Fitzroy Cake Company, I listened to the contractor the insurance company had sent me to meet as he went over the game plan for the repairs. He’d given me his card and introduced himself as Ray Easton. Fifteen years in the business, impeccable safety record, and completely certified and vetted by my insurer.
“When can you start?” I asked. “I’m keen to let my customers know when they can expect the shop to open to the public.”
“We’re still waiting on the verdict on the wiring, but I don’t think it’ll take longer than a day or two. Once that was cleared, I can get my guys in straight away.”
“Sounds great.” I glanced at the kitchen, my gaze not quite reaching the storeroom.
“Don’t worry,” he added. “We’ll have this place looking a million bucks in no time. You won’t even know any of this was here once my guys are done with it. You’re getting the full treatment.”
“Thank you, Mr. Easton.”
“Oh, please call me Ray.” He held out his hand.
“Ray.” I smiled and shook his hand before he gathered his giant planner that was dog-eared, tired, and full of loose papers and Post-it notes.
“Thanks, Callie. I’ll be in touch.”
He left the door open, and I stood in the strange half-light, staring at the destruction the fire had wrought on my little dream. They were going to gut the entire place and fix the plasterboard, the wiring, everything. There was even a painter thrown into the deal.Thank God.
My insurance covered my ovens, shop fittings, and stock, and thankfully, the landlord had adequate cover for the structural damage. It would all work out in a couple of weeks, but in the meantime, it was just a big pain in my ass.
Knocking at the door pulled my attention, and I turned.
“Callie?”
I saw the backlit outline of a male figure, and my heart leapt.He’d come back.
He stepped inside. “I was hoping I would find you here.”
Squinting, I immediately realized my mistake, and disappointment threatened to overwhelm me.
