Pierced Hearts (Southern Charmers 1)

“You’re being overly dramatic. I’ve always worked early because most of my deliveries need to be in the stores when they open. All the rest is schematics. It’s called being efficient. And I don’t hide out with Mom. I use my afternoons for my administrative business, and I like having her company. My contracts have specific outlines on my expectations.”

“That may have been true in Charlotte, but I know for a fact you aren’t signing contracts here. The stores you’re working with have week-by-week agreements. I heard someone in the bank talking about how Mr. Rosen is dying to get your products in his restaurant.”

“We’ve spoken. I can’t overextend my capabilities right now. He wants daily desserts, and that’s too much of a strain.”

“Hire someone. Hell, hire two people part-time. You have the business in the pipeline that will justify the additional overhead.”

“I’m not ready to take that on.”

“No, you’re not ready to make the commitment, which leads me back to asking, how long are you staying?”

I swig the rest of my wine, refill it, and try to find a way to answer him diplomatically. “I’m staying as long as Mom needs me.”

“Mom’s fine, Darby. You knew that the day you blew out of town. Home health was set up, therapy was scheduled, and she has a huge network here.”

“I felt like she needed me. Why the inquisition? You’re being borderline rude and kinda intrusive into my business.”

“I’m not intrusive; I’m honest. When you came home, I made the decision to sit back and see how this was going to play out. But I don’t like the way you’ve secluded yourself. It’s not healthy.”

“It’s fine. No deadlines, no pressure, easy to enjoy lifestyle. This is invigorating.”

“You’re a fucking liar. Two months ago, you would have gawked at the idea of being a social hermit. Your social life was exhausting.”

“There you go.” I tip my wine to him to make my point. “I’m no longer exhausted.”

“Don’t take us for fools. We see right through your charade.”

“There is no charade. I signed a lease on a bakery space, for God’s sake.”

“You signed a six-month lease.”

“You, of all people, know I was in a rush. You’re the one who had to view it for me. Signing a shorter lease was practical until I could get here and actually see if it would be sufficient.”

His lips curl into a sly grin, and his eyes fill with a challenge. “How’s it working out?”

“It’s great. The location and size are perfect for what I want. The landlord is spectacular and kept all our business dealings private.”

“Mmhmm.” He sips his wine, keeping his eyes on me. My knees bounce nervously at the way he’s staring. He’s older than me by only four minutes, and the twin intuition has always been more dominant in his genes.

“Oh, fuck it.” I snatch the bottle and drink straight from it, guzzling like an alcoholic junkie.

“Classy, Darb.”

“It’s your fault. I’m going to have to be drunk to deal with you.”

“What if I told you the owner of the bakery approached me about selling the building? He’s going to give you first rights to refusal, then contact a broker.”

The wine lands like lead in the pit of my stomach, and I swallow a few times to keep it down. “I’m not sure I can stay,” I admit with a whisper. “The next six months will be a trial run.”

“You can’t hide from him forever. It’s been twelve years. We’d all hoped you’d moved on, but from the expression on your face, I can see it was wishful thinking.”

My eyes sting as humiliation sears through my blood. It’s embarrassing how even the mention of him from my brother makes me feel like twelve years was only yesterday. “He’s the one who moved on. He moved right along, replacing me.”

“I don’t like the son of a bitch, but to his defense, you didn’t give him a choice.”

Tears well up and spill down my cheeks quicker than I can wipe them away. “You can’t do this to me, Evin. I’m trying.”

He takes the bottle out of one hand and my glass out of the other, placing them on the table between us. I suck in a deep breath, trying to control the overwhelming emotions swelling in my chest.

“Jesus, Darby, you still fucking love him.”

“Always have. And I’m afraid I always will. There’s no way to un-love Pierce. That’s why I can’t commit to staying in Charleston. The chance of seeing him every day is crippling,” I choke out.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is pained, and when I glance up, he’s staring at me with so much remorse it hurts.

“It’s okay, but can we not talk about this anymore? I’m here for at least six months, and then we’ll see what happens.”

He nods in agreement. We sit in silence a few minutes, the heaviness of the conversation slipping away.