Peaches and Cream, page 16
Her phone rang and saved her, thank Christ, and it was Teagan on FaceTime. Relief and happiness flooded through her, emotions always triggered by her best friend.
“Hey,” she said as she answered on her laptop instead of her phone, since she was already sitting right in front of it.
“Hi, cutie,” Teagan said with their trademark smile. “Just popping in to do a drive-by. How’s things?”
“Where are you driving by to?” Sabrina used the fact that her hands were free to eat her eggs as they talked.
“Target,” Teagan said, coupling it with an eye roll. “The place that has more of my money than my bank.”
“Buying more baby stuff?”
“I can’t remember the last time I bought something that wasn’t baby stuff.” They shook their head, but Sabrina could tell by their expression that they were far from annoyed.
“Get used to it,” she said with a laugh, then realized that she actually did need to talk about the previous night.
As if reading her mind, Teagan addressed it first, asking, “I take it your surprise houseguest is gone?”
Sabrina didn’t mean to sigh, but she did. “Yeah. Not long ago.”
“And what happened when she woke up this morning?”
“She was horrified, of course. Couldn’t get out of here fast enough. Apologized all over the place but ran out like her ass was on fire.” She tried to make it sound light but knew she just sounded sad about it.
“Babe,” Teagan said, then their gaze went beyond the camera, probably to their wife. A nod, then, “Okay, I’ve gotta run, but listen to me. You’ve got to figure this out because I think this chick means something to you. You know?”
Another sigh. “Yeah.”
“Talk later?”
They signed off, and Sabrina sat there for a long moment. For the first time since they’d broken up so many years ago, Sabrina longed for the simple complexity of Teagan’s life. Or was it the complex simplicity? Either one. The domesticity of having a home and a partner and shopping for a crib for the impending arrival of your first child sounded like heaven compared to her own life. Flying from city to city. Rarely sleeping in her own bed. No roots, no home really. Finally meeting somebody who might matter, only to find out your company might blow up her livelihood. She dropped her head into her hands and just sat there. She had so much to do, so much to go over, but she couldn’t move. All she could do was sit there, hold her own head, and think about Adley.
And for the first time in a very, very long time, she had absolutely no idea what to do next.
* * *
While she’d managed a shower and clean clothes, that was about all Adley could manage that morning. Rattling around her house just made her feel jittery, so she headed to the one place she felt most comfortable.
The blessed cool of the stainless steel counter was the only good thing in her life right now. Adley sat there in the back kitchen of the Scoop, her forehead directly on the counter, and contemplated—or rather tried not to contemplate—her horrific choices from the night before.
Seriously, how stupid was she?
Her head was pounding. Of course it was, she’d had three—four? five?—glasses of white wine last night. Everybody knew white was much more apt to give you a headache than red. She knew that. She also hadn’t eaten, so all that wine on an empty stomach…How in the world did she not expect to end up hammered?
What she had done was a clear testament to how she’d been feeling lately—largely confused and angry. About her business. About her abilities. About her feelings for Sabrina—
Snapping her head up wasn’t the greatest of ideas, but she did it at that last thought, and everything swam in her vision for a second.
Her feelings for Sabrina.
Yeah. She put her head back down.
The back door opened and startled her enough to make her jump, but not enough to make her lift her head again. She only needed to learn that lesson once.
“Happy Sunday, brought you Starbucks.” Scottie was her normal cheerful self, the way she’d been since Marisa entered the picture, and Adley was jealous.
“You have an amazing life, and I hate you,” she muttered, her mouth leaving a vapor film on the stainless steel under her face. “Shut up.”
She heard Scottie pull up a seat and sit next to her. Heard the Starbucks cup slide across the counter so it was near her head. Heard Scottie peel the lid off her own cup and sip it, an extra loud slurp she was sure was for her benefit. Scottie sat. Sipped. Waited.
Adley sighed finally and lifted her head—slowly this time—until she was upright and in a human position again. She reached for her cup, opened the lid, and smelled the caramel pump that Scottie always got for her in her mocha latte. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean that.” She sipped, felt the path the warm coffee took down her throat, into her stomach, into her veins.
“I know,” Scottie said, not the least bit annoyed or hurt. She sipped, her eyes on Adley the whole time. “Wanna talk about it?”
Adley grimaced. “Not really, but I probably should.”
Scottie leaned on her forearms, made a show of getting comfortable. “It’s my day off, and Marisa and Jaden are at a birthday party. I have all the time in the world.”
She was going to need more caffeine for this. She sipped, bolstered herself. Scottie waited patiently, something she’d always been very good at. When she started to feel slightly better than roadkill, Adley took a deep breath and spilled the whole story of the night before. All of it. Going to see her parents and their refusal to help her financially, heading to the bar on her own—her first mistake, they both agreed, drinking too much wine on an empty stomach, being smart enough not to drive but too dumb to realize that walking to Sabrina’s house just to pick a fight was not the most terrific of ideas, to seeing her and Sprinkles, to the very foggy memory remnants of snuggling up in Sabrina’s bed.
“I kissed her,” she said on a groan. “I only remembered that this morning when I was sitting next to her.”
“Oh, wow.” It was the only comment Scottie made, but her eyes were slightly wider than normal, a clear indication of her astonishment.
“I fell all over myself apologizing. It was horrible. I wanted to crawl in a hole.” She gazed into her coffee, turned the cup slowly in her hands.
“What did she do when you said you were sorry?”
Oh, she remember that very clearly. “She said she wasn’t.”
“Huh.” Scottie sipped her coffee. Nibbled at the inside of her cheek. Looked like she wanted to say something.
“What?” Adley asked her. “Please, tell me what you’re thinking. I’m a mess over here. I don’t know what to do. My parents were my last resort. I’m probably going to lose the one place I feel like myself, and it’s breaking my heart. And in the midst of the whole thing is this woman…this woman who’s indirectly responsible for what is likely the demise of my business and I like her so much…but I also hate her. What am I supposed to do with that?” Not for the first time that morning, her eyes filled with tears. Not being able to control things wasn’t something Adley Purcell was used to, and it was clearly freaking her out. She held her hands up, fingers splayed, and indicated her own face. “Look at me! This isn’t me. I don’t cry. I’m not a crier.” She shook her head and took a large gulp of her coffee, hoping it would wash the lump out of her throat. “I don’t know what to do,” she said softly, words that she’d rarely uttered in her life. Glistening eyes focused on Scottie, she asked on a whisper, “What do I do?”
Chapter Sixteen
Friday was hot and humid, topping ninety degrees, which surprised Sabrina. Not because she wasn’t used to the heat and humidity—she was from Atlanta, for God’s sake—but because she somehow didn’t expect it this far north. She’d taken Sprinkles for a walk earlier, and even he tapped out in the heat, preferring to be in the house, his belly flat on the cool hardwood, and he dozed in front of the vent blowing cool conditioned air on him. Part of her wanted to lie there next to him and nap the day away. Responsibilities be damned.
She was restless, though, filled with a weird nervous energy she couldn’t seem to channel. She always got a little bit like this before a big opening, so it wasn’t all that surprising. She paced around the little house, hitting her laptop when she walked by to make sure there was no new email or message she needed to deal with. To be honest, pretty much everything was set. A few minor details that Maggie was taking care of with regard to the interior design of the Sweet Heaven, but nothing Sabrina needed to worry about. Normally, this was the time that she’d chill. Normally, she’d have spent the past month or two working long hours and ironing out unforeseen wrinkles and making calls and answering questions and placing orders and learning the city and its residents, so that now, she was allowed a couple days of rest before the soft and grand openings. She could sit, watch a movie, read a book. God, sleep. Relax. Breathe.
None of those things seemed at all appealing right now. Not one. She had extra energy and she needed to burn it off. If she tried to run in this heat, she’d dehydrate and pass out in a matter of minutes. So she did the next best thing.
She put Sprinkles in his crate, moving it a little closer to the air-conditioning vent, got in her car, and drove to Get the Scoop.
She paid more attention this time than the last, noticing things like how the sign could use updating. Something being artisan was trendy, and you needed to capitalize on that. The Get the Scoop sign was likely the original, and it looked it, like it had been designed in the eighties or close to it. The font was old-school and the paint was faded, chipped in places, and just generally lent a dated look to a shop that should really be celebrating its timeliness. But the building itself seemed solid. Could use a fresh coat of paint, maybe something a little brighter than the beige it currently was.
She hadn’t really planned out this visit, not a hundred percent sure why she was even here. But still, she pulled the door open and went inside, and two facts hit her instantly. First, there was nothing quite as warm and inviting as the smell of fresh waffle cones. The scent of sugar and vanilla and warmth grabbed her by the nose and led her to the counter. And two, she wished it was busier. There were a handful of customers, three sharing a table and a big sundae of some kind, two in line. But it was a sweltering hot summer afternoon. The place should be packed.
She scanned the menu board, noticing a few flavors that hadn’t been there the last time she’d stopped by. Campfire S’mores, Ube, and Apple Crisp. All sounded fabulous. The fact that Adley made them in small batches guaranteed freshness, something a bit lower on Sweet Heaven’s list, simply because they did large batches. Factory-made batches. Which didn’t mean it was bad—it was actually quite good. But she remembered the dense creaminess of the ice cream last time she’d been here, and her mouth watered in anticipation.
As if they were in a movie and Adley’s cue was to walk in exactly when Sabrina stepped up to the counter, that’s exactly what happened. Adley was carrying a tub of ice cream, and she did a little stutter step when she saw Sabrina but managed to catch herself and continue to the display where she deposited the tub. According to the sign, it was Baby Bear, which made Sabrina remember how Bryce had copied it.
Adley sighed. She looked exhausted. Sad. Frustrated. That flash of anger she’d had in her eyes when she’d shown up on Sabrina’s doorstep—that spark?—was nowhere to be found. She just looked…defeated. Sabrina wanted to take her in her arms. Wrap her up. Rock her. Tell her everything would be okay, that she’d take care of all of it. She’d much rather deal with pissed-off Adley than sad, giving-up Adley, which was who she was worried was in front of her now.
“How can I help you?” Adley asked quietly. The redheaded employee was there, too, ringing up the other customer, and Sabrina saw her glance over at Adley with what looked like concern on her face.
Sabrina hadn’t planned this far ahead, and she realized it in that exact moment. With a clear of her throat, she said, “I guess…some ice cream?”
A nod. “Sure. What kind?”
“I know it’s about a hundred and twenty degrees outside, but I think I’d like to try the Apple Crisp. Please. In one of your waffle cones. Please.” And before Adley could walk away, Sabrina added softly, “And I wanted to see you.”
Adley turned and met her gaze. She looked tired. Exhausted, really. Embarrassed. Her cheeks blazed red. And sad. She looked so sad, and that was hard to see. She wore no makeup. And she was beautiful. So gorgeous, it made Sabrina’s chest ache. Adley was still for a moment, like she wanted to say something. Then she gave her head a quick shake and muttered, “Be right back with your cone.”
Sabrina stifled a sigh and watched as Adley got a waffle cone—man, they were big!—and scooped ice cream into it. She handed it over to Sabrina without making eye contact.
“On the house,” Adley said softly, then walked away before Sabrina could protest. Though, what was she going to say? She didn’t think telling Adley she couldn’t afford to be giving away her product would go over so well. Part of her really wanted to follow Adley into the back, into the kitchen, but the last thing she wanted to do was cause a scene or make Adley feel worse than she already clearly did. Resigned, she left a twenty in the tip jar and headed outside.
The ice cream, though? Holy deliciousness, Batman. It was unlike any ice cream she’d ever tasted, and she’d been here before, so her expectations were kind of high. Despite how incredible the flavors had been during her last visit, this one blew them out of the water. The sweetness of the apple, the dense creaminess of the vanilla, the warmth of the cinnamon, nutmeg, and other spices she couldn’t quite put a finger on…it all mixed and mingled and made for an absolute taste experience. Add to that the depth of flavor in something as simple as a waffle cone, and the whole thing was absolutely beyond impressive. She had no words. She simply stood there, humming in delight and eating what was truly artisan ice cream. Adley was an artist, that much was clear.
I should march right back in there and tell her.
That thought zipped through her head so quickly, she almost didn’t register it before she started moving, her feet carrying her quickly back toward the door.
But she stopped.
She remembered the look on Adley’s face. The sadness. The defeat. The anger she had last night that she simply hadn’t been able to hit Sabrina with. Oh, she’d wanted to, Sabrina knew that. But she hadn’t been able to. And that said so much about who she was.
The lump in her throat was hard to swallow down, but she managed, then turned back to her car and headed home.
Where she ate every last bite of her ice cream cone.
* * *
Whenever Adley felt like shit—or, let’s be honest, whenever she was happy or sad or alarmed or worried—the thing she wanted to do most was create. Tastes. Colors. Textures. And right now, that’s what she wanted to do. It’s what she needed to do. Because Sabrina James was standing in her parking lot eating the Apple Crisp ice cream cone she’d made her and looking like she was in absolute heaven doing it.
Adley could see her through the window. She’d gone to the back because standing in front of Sabrina, looking at her, had been just too much to bear. If she’d been stronger, maybe. If she’d felt less beaten down, less defeated, less depressed about the state of her business, her life, maybe she’d have been braver. Maybe she’d have gone outside, followed Sabrina into the parking lot, to her car, shared her cone, talked about it, kissed her.
Kissed her.
Yeah.
None of that was going to happen. None of it could happen. The Sweet Heaven grand opening was coming up. There’d be lots of glitz and celebration. Customers would flock. They’d make a bunch of money, and Sabrina would leave. And Adley would likely watch her own business get slowly flattened.
She couldn’t blame it all on Sweet Heaven. Or on Sabrina. That wasn’t fair, no matter how much of her anger she aimed at them. Get the Scoop had been having difficulty for a while now, long before Sweet Heaven showed up on the scene. No, if she wanted to place blame, she’d have to look in a mirror.
* * *
Saturday night, Adley sat at Scottie and Marisa’s dining room table and held her glass while Scottie poured her a second serving of wine, a pretty good indicator of how she was feeling. Sad. In a funk.
“You’re staying here tonight, by the way,” Scottie said, shifting her eyes to Marisa, who sat across from her and nodded. “We know what happened the last time you had wine. Jaden’s at his grandparents’ tonight. You can sleep in his bed.”
Adley didn’t even fight it. She knew better. “Fine.”
Scottie set the bottle down, sat, and closed a hand over Adley’s forearm. “I’m worried about you, sweetie.” Marisa nodded again, and Adley loved how she was there and present, showing her support but letting Scottie take the lead.
A sigh. “I know. But you don’t have to be.” She took a sip, then set the glass down and turned it slowly with her fingers. “I think I just have to accept what is, you know?”
Scottie propped her chin in her hand. “Explain.”
Adley had been thinking about this since the visit from Sabrina yesterday. Truly, it had been rolling around in her head for two days. “I have to accept the facts of my situation. That’s all.” She ticked off a finger as she spoke. “My business is in trouble, and the reality is, I can’t keep going on like this with it.”
Scottie frowned. “I hope you know I’d help you if I could.” A glance at Marisa. “But we sank everything we had into the new salon.”
