“So if one day you don’t want to be with them … that’s it? All over? A small fight means you’re done?”
“I don’t think people get divorced because of a fight. They get divorced because of all the little stuff that adds up over time. And why wouldn’t it add up over time? You agreed to forever to be with this person. No rush to call them out on their shit or vice versa.”
He had no idea how hard those words hit me. Four people … only four people knew.
Kael edged his way closer to the checkout. “My friend Meg from high school left her husband after five years of marriage. The first two were good, the last three were miserable because they were married, and that little legal document made them feel accountable. Her word. Mine would be guilty. He died six months ago from a stroke. The last time I saw her she said, ‘I miss him, but only because there are fifty unfinished projects around our house.’”
The corners of my mouth quirked. Another woman being brutally honest about her feelings.
Kael started piling stuff onto my counter.
“What are you doing?”
“Buying some things. Isn’t this a store?”
Yes. It was a store that had been open for thirty minutes on a Sunday during the holidays and no customers—even with the competition closed.
“Thought you didn’t eat this stuff?”
He held up a roll of beef sausage. “This good?”
“Not sure. I haven’t tried it.”
His right eyebrow lifted a fraction. “How about that cheese?” He nodded toward the tub of cheddar he’d set on the counter.
“Do you want Elsie’s answer or Mrs. Smith’s, owner of the store, answer?”
“You don’t eat the stuff you sell?” His hazel eyes widened.
“Again, do you want Elsie’s answer or Mrs. Smith’s, owner of the store, answer?”
Pinning me with his unblinking gaze, he held out his hand. “Scissors.”
“What are you doing?”
“Just give me some scissors.”
I retrieved scissors from the top drawer and handed them to him. He snipped the closure to the beef stick and peeled back the wrapping before holding it to my face. “Take a bite and tell me if I should buy it for my dad.”
My nose wrinkled and I stepped back. “It’s one of our best sellers.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Smith. But right now, I want Elsie to taste this and tell me what she thinks of it.”
I drank lemon water every morning. I ate mostly whole foods that didn’t need a label. My meat consumption was borderline vegan. That roll of meat had enough sodium in it to give half the town of Epperly a stroke.
“You will pay for that since you opened it.”
“You should take a bite, have a food orgasm, and cut up the rest as samples for your customers, so they can have a food orgasm too.”
My comeback readied itself as I glared at him—a racehorse eager at the gate, but the bell never sounded. Customers? What customers?
“I think it’s alarming that we’ve had four encounters and you’ve used the word orgasm twice.”
Amusement played along his lips. “I think it’s notable that you’re keeping a record of our encounters. If you would have asked me to put a number to it in less than a second, I wouldn’t have been able to do it. I’m flattered, Mrs. Smith.”
My formal name coming from him sounded dirty and forbidden, like a student hot for their teacher. It made my whole face wrinkle in disgust. Kael was twelve years my junior. I could have been his teacher.
I snatched the partially opened beef stick from his hand and scanned it along with the other items on the counter before shoving them into a bag. “Eighty-two dollars and ninety-five cents.”
Kael held a cocky expression on his face that leaned toward complete amusement. “It’s like a chef who won’t eat her own food. A baker not tasting the batter.” He tapped his credit card on the reader.
My eyes wanted to roll, but I remained visually unaffected as I handed him the receipt. “Have a nice day.”
Kael plucked the receipt from my hand and dropped it into the bag. “We haven’t discussed cross-promotion yet.”
“I think we stick with fad food and classics since you like that word.”
“Fad food? You mean healthier food?”
“I mean overpriced trendy food.”
His lips parted as if to speak, but nothing came out for several seconds. “Why do I sense anger in your words? Have I done something wrong?”
The nerve …
“Epperly is a small town, in case you haven’t noticed, so someone opening a specialty food store across the street from mine doesn’t exactly make me happy.”
He chuckled and scratched his scruffy neck. “In case you haven’t noticed, we don’t exactly sell the same products. You don’t see decorative tins of popcorn and tubs of cheese piled on my shelves, do you?”
“That’s not the point.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You sell specialty food items that people buy for gifts. So if Joe Blow wants to buy his wife a gift for Christmas, he’s going to either buy something from your store or something from my store, but it’s unlikely he makes purchases at both places.”