Page 70 of Entirely Yours
It’s the morning of the grand opening. Bardot Brothers Coffee Co. will officially be in business. I think about the T-shirt I stole from Jules the first night we met, and I feel so… proud of him.
I feel proud of this man that has come to mean so much to me.
After thinking about it, I’m also a little bit proud of me. The girl I was six months ago would hardly recognize the woman I am today. She’d probably tell me to blink twice if I was caught in some sort of small-town cult.
All of a sudden I’m very focused on how many times I’m blinking.
“What’s wrong with your face, Mama?” Chloe asks, bounding into the kitchen. Her pigtails are bouncing as she breaks into a dance. I think she’s the most excited out of anyone to go to the grand opening today. Girl loves a party.
“Nothing, chicken. You about readyto go? Where’s Pop?”
“I’m right here.” Dad follows Chloe into the kitchen, adjusting his bolo tie.
Raising my eyebrows at him, I ask, “Fancy today, are we?”
Dad’s less than impressed by my teasing. “Big day deserves a nice outfit.”
“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go, pleaseeee!”
I laugh. “I think Chloe is going to combust if we don’t leave.”
When we arrive, we have to park down the block because there are already so many people in line waiting. Some students looking to get a peek at their new hang out spot and some townies that I’ve gotten to know in the last several months—Louie included.
At the very front of the line, Bex and Anders are arguing over the correct height of the ribbon that will be ceremoniously cut in a few minutes. An older woman with a camera around her neck and a large press badge that saysSassafras Gazetteis frowning at them, furiously taking notes on her legal pad.
We slide past the three of them and walk into the coziest coffee shop I’ve ever seen. What used to be a run down facility with antiquated equipment has been replaced by several vignettes perfectly placed for intimate conversation, a wall full of bookshelves and assorted plants, and a wooden counter topped with a shiny new espresso machine.
In a nod to what used to be, the original sign that hung outside of the old shop is now hanging up behind the bar.The Coffee Shopjoins a gallery wall of signage and art surrounding a hand painted logo for Bardot Brothers Coffee Co.
Underneath, my favorite Bardot brother is arranging a display of muffins that look just as decadent as he does.
I walk over and lean against the counter top. “Do you think one day we’ll tell our son that he was conceived in this very spot?”
“I think if we ever feel like scarring the poor kid, that would be a good place to start,” he jokes.
“It looks amazing in here.”
He leans across, planting a kiss on my lips. “It does now that you’re here.”
“Get a room, you two!” Gabe calls from the storeroom. “Actually, don’t. We’ve got a shop to open.” He claps Jules on the back, a huge grin forming on both of their faces.
The entire Bardot family—and those of us who are family adjacent—gathers in front of the storefront, ready for the official opening. Jules is bracketed by his two brothers, a look of relief on his face. He’s ready for this change, it’s palpable. As the enormous scissors come down, everyone cheers. It’s absolutely perfect.
Except, maybe the ribbon was just alittletoo low.
We made it a few hours before I could see Chloe starting to fade, and honestly I wasn’t far behind her. It seemed like everything was running smoothly when we left. Ben almost lost his shit when Cole turned up with a date, but eventually he settled on making the poor guy insanely uncomfortable instead of spitting in his coffee.
Dad took Chloe home to rest, but I ended up going over to the studio to work on choreography. By the time I was ready to leave, the coffee shop was still incredibly busy, so I didn't bother going back in. I did, however, watch creepily from the front window, observing Jules in his element.
Someone else took the orders, but Jules was in charge of the actual drinks. He masterfully crafted lattes, cappuccinos, and americanos in the few minutes I stood there watching. His tattooed forearms continuously caught my attention as he wiped his hands on his black apron after every drink.
I’m pretty sure I was drooling the entire time.
But now, I’m back in Jules' bedroom, massaging my feet and calves with my handy dandy massage gun. It’s become our little routine to spend an hour alone together before I inevitably passout, only to wake up a few hours later and make my way back to my own room.
Chloe and Dad went to bed a while ago, but I’ve been waiting up for Jules because—who am I?—I want to hear all about his day.
Over the sound of the massage gun, I don’t hear him come in, though. Instead, he scares the shit out of me when he knocks quietly on the bedroom door. Always so thoughtful, always asking for permission—even in his own damn house. Even in his own damn room.
