S.E.C.R.E.T. Revealed (Secret 3)

“I am, but you’ll get used to it.”

“Maybe. But it’s just that if it’s going to be named after me, then I want to … have it mean something. I want to invest in it as well.”

He blinked several times, his face placid. “I told you, your sweat equity is enough.”

“It’s not enough for me. I told you when Scott died he left me with some insurance money. And I’ve only drawn on a little of it. The rest—about sixty-five grand—I want to put into this place. I want to be your … partner. Business partner, I mean.”

He took no time to think about it.

“No. No way. That’s your retirement fund, Cassie. That’s all you have.”

“No. This is my retirement fund. This place. And you need the money and you know it. Investing will make me feel, I don’t know, more worthy of its name. Don’t say no. I need you to say yes. I want to do this. Or else.”

“Or else what?”

If you say it, you have to mean it. No more empty threats. But in that moment, it didn’t feel like a threat. It felt entirely necessary.

“Then I really can’t stay.”

“Don’t do that, Cassie. Don’t drop ultimatums.”

“It’s not an ultimatum. It’s a fact. I need to do this because I feel lousy. What’ll make me feel better is if I get a piece of this restaurant. A piece of the risk. And, hopefully, if I have anything to do with it, a piece of its success too.”

He scratched his head. I couldn’t decide from his expression if he was a little angry or kind of pleased.

“Well, we could use some money for the unforeseen expenses, like fixing the fucking dishwasher that we just installed! And I’d love to run some print and radio ads …”

“Then it’s all set,” I said, not waiting for a full yes or a firm no. Will imagining an easier opening night was enough for me, plus I was running late now. “I’ll cut a certified check. We’ll deal with paperwork later. And by the way, we have the wine testing tomorrow. We have to pick the house red and white. I know you like those Texas Hill Country vintages, but they’re not cheap.”

“Right,” he said, looking dizzied.

“And I left the insurance forms upstairs for you to sign.”

“Great. Yeah. You off?”

“I am.”

I grabbed my coat off the hook in the kitchen. Leave. Leave now before he changes his mind.

“Okay, then. Have a nice night,” I said, bounding out of the kitchen.

I waved bye to Claire, who barely looked up at me over her phone, no doubt her latest drama already morphing into something new. I headed to a certain truck idling a half block from Café Rose. Will and I weren’t going to be partners in life, but we’d be business partners, a relationship that I hoped I would one day find almost as satisfying. Sex I would have to get elsewhere.

I opened the truck door, startling Jesse.

“Hey babe,” he said, shoving his newspaper aside. “You’re late.”

“I’m sorry. I was in … a meeting.”

He was wearing mirrored sunglasses and working a toothpick. He looked like an ad for his truck. I slid into the seat next to him, took his sunglasses off his face and put them on mine. I was flooded with adrenaline.

“What’s the plan?” I asked.

I’m not sure what my grin said, but we were both instantly aware that we weren’t going out for a coffee or dinner or a movie. We weren’t going for a chat. There didn’t seem to be a whole lot left to discuss.

“Your place or mine?” he asked.

“Yours.”