Page 33 of How to Break My Heart
“Hello, Eva speaking.”
“Hello, Eva,” the smooth voice sounds over the speaker. “Too early to call?”
My cheeks rise into a grin as my shoulders relax.
“For you, Marco, it’s never too early.”
CHAPTER 9Eva
My eyes are glued to the door.
It’s just after ten, and I texted Aston last night confirming the time to meet. I kept it formal, reminding myself who I was dealing with. His response was an infuriating thumbs-up.
A group of tourists comes in, and I smile politely before welcoming them. After they take a seat, Chloe, who covers the weekend shifts, takes their order, and a few more customers enter.
Time passes, and so does my ability to accept Aston’s poor behavior. I recheck my phone an hour after our meet time, only to see no missed calls or messages. The decent thing to do would be to send me a message to tell me he couldn’t make it.
My fingers tap against the screen, typing out exactly what I think of him and his disregard for my time, but then I delete it. I’m too angry to get my words out without calling himthe biggest jerk to ever exist.
The café becomes busier in the lead-up to lunchtime, forcing me to help Chloe. Billie came in earlier to bake but left before we opened. We have enough fresh donuts to last us the whole day, but given the sudden rain carrying over from yesterday, it’s a lot quieter than our usual Sunday crowd.
I head into the kitchen to call Maddy, but I play it cool like I’m not about to rip her brother’s head off. The last thing Maddy needs is more stress on her plate.
The call lasts all of two minutes. Maddy left early this morning to head into the city for some important meeting with her cast. Apparently, one of the leads broke her leg skiing, and the understudy is freaking out. She promises to be back tomorrow morning and informs me Aston is at home.
It’s all I need to hear.
“Chloe, I need to take care of something.” I grab my keys and phone. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
My tire was fixed late yesterday afternoon, thankfully, since buses barely run in Cinnamon Springs. Burt, the town mechanic, told me he saw it in the parking lot. He replaced the tire, then drove it to my apartment. I tried to pay him, but he refused to accept my money and told me he’ll gladly accept a lemon sprinkled donut the next time he grabs coffee.
It’s a twenty-minute drive to Maddy’s parents’ house, and I manage to work myself up even more in that twenty minutes. By the time I arrive at the front of the house, I’ve already memorized precisely what I’m going to say to him.
The front door is unlocked, so without hesitating, I enter the house and close the door behind me. It’s quiet inside the foyer with no signs of anyone home.
Aston’s room is two doors down from Maddy’s old room. Of course I remember it, along with the bathroom, where I accidentally saw him get out of the shower.
With every step closer, Aston’s voice becomes louder. I stand at his door, watching him with my arms crossed. He is pacing the room while running his hands through his hair in frustration, dressed in what appear to be yesterday’s clothes. If I’m being honest, he looks like he hasn’t slept.
The moment he notices me, he rubs the back of his neck, tension radiating from him. He gives me a terse warning thathis call will take a while, but I’m not about to leave. So, I stay by the door, listening as a group of men argue over the speaker, their voices a chaotic mix of frustration and ego.
“Gentlemen, please,” he commands while pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let’s focus on the next step rather than this back-and-forth. I’ll get my team on it today, and we’ll see what our rights are before we make the next move.”
“Beaumont, there is a lot riding on this,” a man warns.
“Yes, John. I’m acutely aware.”
The conversation continues for another few minutes before Aston puts his foot down and tells everyone he’s hanging up.
As soon as it ends, I raise my arms in frustration. “Have you heard of text messages? You know, like…sorry, I can’t make it?”
“Sorry, I couldn’t make it” is all he says.
“I sat there for over an hour waiting for you. You don’t think I have better things to do? God, you’re such a jerk.”
“This is business, Everleigh,” he bellows while resting his hands on his desk with his head down. “Not some frivolous party to be planned.”
“Oh, so sorry. Yes, of course, the billionaire has business to do. You don’t think my time is as important, right? I also run a business, Aston. I may not be a billionaire, but it’s my livelihood and the livelihood of my employees.”
