Page 27 of Love Me

“I’m sure he’s told you about this place, but how about we have a look around, and I can answer any questions you may have?”

We spend the next thirty minutes with Donald Rucker. Monique asks insightful questions on the space, the cost, timeline for renovations, and a host of other logistical inquiries. She’s thorough, yet another sign that I know her business will be the success she’s aiming for it to be.

“Thank you, Mr. Rucker. I’ll be in touch,” she says as we exit the building.

“I’m hungry.” She glances down at her wristwatch. “I’ll need to do an injection first.”

“Aunt Mia’s coffee shop is less than a ten-minute walk from here,” I suggest, referring to my Uncle Brutus’—our family’s long-time head of security’s— wife. I always keep a few granola bars and orange juice on me just in case she needs them. It’s a habit I’ve had since high school.

Even when she lived out of state, it was something I continued to do.

“Yeah, that’ll work,” she says, checking her watch.

I call ahead of time to order the lentil brown rice bowl she likes, to make sure it’s ready when we arrive.

Minutes later, we arrive at theCup of Joycafé.

“I’m going to head to the bathroom.”

I nod, and then make my way to the counter to pick up our order which is ready for us.

Minutes later, we’re eating at one of the tables by the window.

“What do you think of the place?” I ask.

When her shoulders immediately slump, my heart sinks. I thought this would be the perfect spot for her gallery.

“It’s perfect,” she says, her words contradicting her expression.

“But,” I prompt.

“But I can’t afford it.” She sighs. “It’s out of my range. The places I marked down to look at were all in my budget.”

“They just weren’t the right fit.”

She shakes her head in response to my comment.

“Then let me write the check for the difference.” The words flow without hesitation.

Her eyes balloon, and a smile makes its way to my lips. The way I could stare into her eyes for hours at a time is pure insanity. Yet, it makes total sense to me. I reach across the table to take her hand in mine when I see her eyebrows draw downward.

“Here me out,” I hedge. “I know you don’t want to ask more of your parents or anyone else—”

“I’ve already gotten so much from everyone … And I won’t ask you to do me any favors either.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering,” I remind her.

She shakes her head adamantly. “It’s still the same. Taking something from someone else instead of figuring it out myself.”

“Why the hell do you have to figure it out on your own?” I can’t help the bite of frustration that laces my tone.

She blinks. “Because.” She sounds just as frustrated.

“That’s not an answer.”

Monique lets out a groan. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Me? I wouldn’t understand. The man who knows everything about you.” Just saying that out loud causes a thunderous jolt to course through me. It’s the truth. I know her inside and out. Our souls have been intertwined since the moment we met.

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