I laugh out loud, the sound settling over the quiet space in the shop. She’s fucking hilarious, this girl. “That’s good,” I say, running a hand over her hair. “That’s really good. But what do you need, Ellie?”

She looks up at me, hair tousled from a full open-to-close shift at Medium Roast. She’s got bags under her eyes. She asked me about hiring staff, but I’ve never seen anyone else in Medium Roast with her. How long has she been working like this? Is it the work that’s driving her to make this ridiculous request?

I wait for a smile. I wait for a laugh to tell me this is a joke. Another round in this thing we’ve got going on, where we’re cutthroat competitors in the cutest little tourist town New York has to offer.

It doesn’t come.

She stares steadily up at me.

Is she serious?

She’s serious.

She can’t be serious.

She is.

I take my hand away from her face, and she catches it in midair. “I know it sounds crazy.” Her eyes are huge and pleading, and the way her bun is off center, making its way almost to her shoulder, tugs at my heart. “I don’t want to have to ask you this, but I’m honestly” —Ellie takes a huge breath and blows it out through rounded lips— “I’m scared for my aunt and uncle. If they lose this shop…” she shakes her head.

“They can always start another shop, Ellie. New stores open all the time. Besides…” I rub at her shoulders, trying to bring her back to reality. At least close to reality. “I’ve had my shop open one day, and Medium Roast is fine.”

“It’s not fine,” she says, stepping back. “We lost customers today, and I can’t even…” she glances around at all the new installations, the fresh paint, the even tiles. “I can’t say that they’re wrong to come here. But the tourist traffic is what’s going to tide us over through the winter. Tide them over through the winter,” she corrects herself. “I could always try to find other work, but Medium Roast is their livelihood.”

I take her face in both my hands. “Ellie, listen to yourself. Your aunt and uncle left you, alone, to run their permanent nest egg?” Anger clouds her eyes. “No, don’t take it that way. You’re amazing. You can do anything. But Medium Roast needs more than a good barista. We both know it. It needs new paint. It needs new walls. It needs suppliers and managers who can get things to you on time. Did you have enough coffee for today?”

Ellie frowns, her cheeks pressing against my palms. “Yes.”

“And when you open tomorrow, will you have enough to get through the morning?”

She shakes her head. No. Of course not. “I might not, but you’re still being condescending as hell.”

I take my hands away. “I’m being honest. You came in here asking me to close my shop. I’m not going to do that.”

Scarlet color floods her cheeks. “I thought you’d at least consider it, after...” she can’t finish.

Wait. “Consider it after we slept together?” An ugly, twisted feeling is rising in my chest. It didn’t start with her. I was optimistic about this move, about this business, about this chance at a fresh start, but every glance thrown this way has been a chink in the armor. And that sign—Jesus, that sign was fucking stupid. A protest. Against a coffee shop. Another local coffee shop. It’s not as if I’m some national chain swooping in to slash and burn everything in Lakewood’s downtown.

Maybe sleeping with me is Ellie’s own form of protest. Maybe this hasn’t been a magical fall into the kind of love I can count on. Maybe it’s been a setup all along so that she can come to me right now with this question and bank on the fact that I’ll be so enamored with her that I’ll agree.

“Yeah,” Ellie says, her voice rough. “I thought you would consider it because of how close we’ve become, sex or not. Fuck, Dash. You don’t have to be an asshole.” Her hands flutter up to her hair and she turns slightly away. “It hasn’t been that long, but I still thought it was worth a chance. They’re my family. I had to try.”

“You think I don’t have a family?” I can’t force down my anger any longer. “I have a family, too. A daughter. Who can’t run out and start another business.” I grit my teeth, trying to keep the words in. It doesn’t work. “Is that what you were thinking when you came over here? That my daughter is less than your grown-ass aunt and uncle?”

Ellie’s face has lost all its color. “No,” she whispers. “I would never want anything to happen to Rosie. She’s the sweetest—”

“Then think about what you’re asking,” I thunder. “Think about it for five seconds before you—” I cut myself off, but the words come tumbling out. “I’ve been open one day. For Christ’s sake, Ellie, see how it goes. If Medium Roast can’t fucking handle it, then maybe you need to sit down with your family and reevaluate what you’re even doing in the business.”

Ellie’s chin quivers, but I’m too consumed to let it affect me now. “I’m sorry. I thought—”

“You didn’t think. You’re too busy living in the past to realize you might have to grow up and do something different for the future.”

Ellie’s jaw drops. It crashes into me then, what I’ve said.

“Ellie,” I say urgently, the hot rage swirling down the drain. “That’s not what—I wasn’t talking about what happened to you. I meant that—”

“You know what?” she says, voice trembling, forcing a smile onto her face that breaks my heart. “This was probably a mistake. No,” she waves a hand between us, “it was definitely a mistake. I’m sorry I got in the way of your new store.” She’s backing up toward the door, one hand behind her, searching for a wall. “Best—best of luck.” Her eyes are shining with tears, and I hate myself for them. “I’ll be coming for you.” She tries to make it jaunty, but it’s fucking heartbreaking. “Watch out.”