Page 78 of Brewing Up My Fresh Start
“Oh, honey.” Jessica reaches across to squeeze my hand. “I hope you’re right about him. I really do.”
“But?”
“But I’ve spent twenty years building something beautiful, and I can’t afford to be optimistic about men who hold my future in their hands.”
The weight of that settles between us like a challenge. Jessica’s livelihood versus my heart. My best friend’s dreams versus my first real chance at love since David destroyed my ability to trust.
“What if there’s a third option?” I ask suddenly. “What if this is exactly why we need those grants?”
“How do you mean?”
“Historic preservation funding. Community development grants that specifically support small businesses in heritage buildings.” I flip through my research with renewed purpose.“What if instead of seeing this as Grayson threatening your store, we see it as an opportunity to secure funding that protects it permanently?”
“That would require him to be willing to partner with preservation efforts instead of pursuing demolition.”
“It would require us to present him with a better option than demolition. One that’s more profitable long-term and serves the community.”
Jessica’s expression shifts from resignation to cautious interest. “You think he’d go for that?”
“I think the man who spent all evening saving your bookstore might be more interested in restoration than destruction.” I stand up, bag full of applications and renewed determination. “There’s only one way to find out.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to trust my judgment about the man I’m dating. And hope that he’s worthy of that trust.”
Jessica nods slowly. “And if he’s not?”
“Then I’ll help you find another solution. But Jess? I think he might surprise us both.”
My phone buzzes with a text.
Grayson: Thinking about you. Brett and Amber invited us on a double date tomorrow night. Amber and Brett want to eat dinner on Ocracoke Island. Ferry leaves at 5:30.
I show Jessica the message, and she raises an eyebrow. “Convenient timing.”
“Convenient or fortuitous.”
Me:Okay, but we need to discuss the bookstore situation.
Grayson:Of course. I’ll text you more details later.
I gather my things, mind already spinning with grant applications and partnership possibilities and the terrifying hope that love and business can coexist without destroying each other. “Relationships are complicated.”
“The good ones are,” Jessica agrees. “The bad ones just feel complicated until you realize they’re actually simple—simple patterns of selfishness and manipulation dressed up as complexity.”
“And which one do you think I have?”
“Ask me after dinner tomorrow. But, Michelle? I’ve never seen you this happy. That has to count for something.”
Jessica nudges a manila envelope between our glasses—the compliance packet Penelope dumped at the shop—Penelope’s neat loops still glaring from a sticky note:Deadlines gallop. —P.
The envelope sits between our wineglasses like a live wire, Penelope’s tidy handwriting daring me to blink first.
I stroll down the street to the other end of the block where my apartment sits over my shop.
Maybe Jessica’s right. That happiness counts for something, and trust can coexist with caution.
And the man who asked to be my boyfriend while fixing my electrical problems might be exactly the partner I need to fix everything else that’s broken.
