Page 105 of Everything Has Changed
“I promise you it’s not like that. We just…” I shake my head, picking at the croissant and nibbling on the pieces. “It’s new.”
“And you’re okay with this secrecy?”
“Yes,” I say with my chest so she knows I’m being truthful. “Honestly, I’m not even sure if it’ll go past this festival.”
Her eyebrows fly to her hairline. “What do you mean? Is he that bad? Sweetie, we can find a vibrator if you need a new one.”
“No, he’s definitely good. Really, really good.” I emphasize my words with wide eyes. “I just worry that it’s just our current situation. Working so closely.”
“So what if it is,” she says matter-of-factly, reaching over to steal a sip of my coffee before I can stop her. “Ugh, there is no coffee shop in New York that touches your blend.”
“Yet another reason you should come home,” I sing-song. I finish the sandwich, rolling the wrapper up and tossing it into the trash bin under the counter.
Her nose scrunches at the idea. “Pass. We aren’t talking about me right now, this is about you. Who cares if it’s forced proximity putting you two together? Some of the best romance books are based specifically on that trope. I should know, I wrote an entire series about it.”
“Yeah, but that’s all fiction. This is real life. You don’t fall in love because you are forced together. You need more than that.”
“You’re right. But clearly you haven’t been comprehending any of my books because all of those couples might be forced together through whatever situation is happening, but they are falling in love with each other for who they are.”
Kennedy stares at me for a second while I stay silent. “Wait a minute, are you in love with him?”
I look around us quickly to make sure no one is around, though it’s too late at this point if they are.
“I don’t know yet. But I do know I’m developing very strong feelings for him. But something is telling me—”
“Knock, knock. Am Iinterrupting?”
Both Kennedy and my head swivel to face Mr. Spencer. Dressed in his usual suit and tie combination, his hands are clasped tightly in front of his stomach.
“Kennedy Prescott,” he smiles, though it doesn’t meet his eyes which seem hard today. “I didn’t realize you were back in town.”
“Only for the weekend, Mr. Spencer.” My sister stands from her seat and comes to stand next to me. “Had to come support my sister during her big weekend.”
“It’s good to have familial support. Y’all are good people, you Prescotts.” He points at the two of us. “Mind if I steal your sister away for our final inspections? I would hate to delay the start of the festival she has been working so hard for.”
“Of course. I need to check in with Ophelia, anyway. She’s finishing up the final touches on her baked good for today. Be sure to stop by later for her Apple Crumble, it’s to die for, Mr. Mayor.” Kennedy smiles at him. I stand from my seat and she leans in for a hug. She whispers in my ear, “You got this, girl,” before turning away to walk toward the cafe.
I take a deep breath, straightening my clothes, then follow Mr. Spencer around our booth. The feeling of my every move being watched skates over my skin.
He’s staring at his phone when I finally reach him. It’s my first time out of the booth in a minute, so I’m finally able to take in the finishing touches on the surrounding booths. I share a couple smiles as locals pass by, preparing to open in, I look at my watch, half an hour.
“Wow, is that really the time?” I nervously giggle.
“And your booth is looking…” he trails off as he appraises the barren front table. The spare espresso machine we keep on hand is already serviced and ready for the day ahead on the slightly hidden side table, along with drip coffee carafes and the materials to craft our signature drinks. But the front is empty from the trays of baked goods we planned to have on hand.
“The treats are on their way, I promise. We have been a little behind on hands for baking this week after a family emergency.” I cringe at the memory from last Sunday.
“I heard Ophelia had a little fall. Hope all is well now.”
I would try to respond, maybe tell him it would be eventually, but he’s already walking away. Picking up my speed, I rush up to meet him as he surveys the vendors. He’s quiet, with his calculating gaze sweeping over every inch of the booths. First, the Old Lady Martha’s quilting booth, who is thankfully not there currently, as he stares at her handmade creations with a bored expression.
Then we move onto the Sourdough Boys, a couple stay-at-home-dads that picked up the bread-making hobby a few years ago and turned it into a major business around here. Mark and Jacob grin excitedly when we walk by, waving with mouths open to say something to the mayor who just side-eyes them and keeps walking.
I cringe and mouth “I’m sorry” as I pass.
I knew Mr. Spencer had an edge to him, one that you either loved or hated, but tolerated because he was mostly harmless. But after spending the last month with Logan and being around his family more than usual thanks to all the festival needs, I’m starting to wonder if he is harmless. Or if that’s just a well-trained politician in practice.
I hustle to meet up with him again, though now he’s standing at one of the vendors toward the end of the row. A sour look twists his face as he stares down at the young girl, probably no older than nineteen, covered in tattoos.
