Page 40 of You Chive Me Crazy
I did not know what that meant. “Sorry, you lost me there.”
“Well, you don’t know this, but I signed up your email address to get information from a dealership in Spokane that sold food trucks. I was trying to salvage the screw-up situation that I had caused, trying to figure out what else you could do after I’d destroyed your dreams of becoming a chef. I thought having a food truck might be a good fit for you. And I was obviously right!”
I was stunned.
Something was building in my gut, and it felt like anger and resentment.
“I remember the first time I got their email,” I said. “I thought it was a sign from the Universe, since I’d never signed up to receive their newsletter. I ended up buying my food truck from them.”
Lucas smiled proudly. “Well, I’m just glad it all worked out.”
My pulse pounded in my temples. “How could you do such a thing?!”
He blinked. “What do you mean?”
“What possessed you to even think you could plan my life for me, without me having a say in the matter?”
“Well, no, I—”
“You manipulated me. Do I look like a horse to you?”
Lucas hesitated for a moment, then furrowed his brow. “Is this a trick question?”
“You dangled a carrot in front of my mouth, hoping I would take a bite in order for you to feel less guilty about ruining my life.” I shook my finger at him in defiance. “That’s pure manipulation.”
“What?” Lucas said. “No—that’s not it at all. I simply wanted to help you, with no ulterior motives. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
I jumped up from the bed. “Like right now? You think watching over me like this is going to ease your guilty conscience? Is that what this is all about?”
Lucas sighed. “You’re overreacting. I only wanted to do right by you. That’s all I ever wanted.”
I squared my shoulders and placed my hands on my hips. “I get to decide what’s best for me. Not you. You limited my creativity like an overprotective parent. I could have done anything with my life, but no . . . you decided I should settle for a food truck.” I walked toward the door.
“But the ultimate decision about the food truck was yours. I just planted the seed of an idea you could have easily rejected if it didn’t sound appealing. Nobody put a gun to your head and forced you to buy it,” he said, a flummoxed look on his face, like he had no idea he’d hurt me once again.
“Whatever,” I said, turning toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Lucas asked.
“To get some fresh air,” I answered, feeling a tad bit guilty for being so prickly, but how else was I supposed to feel after he’d done that without my knowledge?
I was seething with disappointment as I stormed out of our room, but as soon as I went downstairs, I ran into Betsy near the reception desk.
“I’m so sorry about what happened at breakfast,” she said. “I’m going to have a chat with Damian about his manners if he wants to continue staying here.”
I shook my head and let out a frustrated breath. “I’m over that, but thank you.”
“Are you sure?” Betsy asked. “You still look a little flustered.”
“It’s from something else entirely.”
She looked worried. “Oh . . . Is it something you want to talk about?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know . . .”
“I don’t mind being your sounding board, you know.” She pointed to the reading room. “Come on. Let’s chat.”
We sat across from each other in the oversized chairs in the reading room that looked out to the front yard of the Serendipity Inn.
