Page 4 of Home Brewed (The Perfect Cup #1)

The same violence from that night starts bubbling under my skin again.

Exactly how many secrets did this douche canoe have?

And how had he been paying his share of the bills?

I’ve seen this man spend, I know he doesn’t have any savings.

We would get into massive fights about his spending habits, which is probably why we stopped talking about money at all.

“Again, I’m really sorry.” Beck pauses for a second. “Did you say you were his girlfriend?” he looks skeptical, raising one of his brows as he scans me up and down, and I can’t tell whether I should be offended or not.

“Up until I caught him balls deep in someone else a few days ago, yes.” Beck’s eyes go wide when I mutter a “Fucking dickhole,” under my breath.

“Oh… aren’t you guys open?” He cocks his head to the side, a small lock of his hair falling out of his bun and into his eyes. Half of it is twisted into a stylish messy bun. I always thought man buns were pretentious, but on him, it makes him more masculine and tempting.

Focus, Hazel!

“Wait, open?” My brain stutters, trying to wrap itself around the words Beck is saying.

“Sorry, that’s invasive. It’s not my business.” He holds out his hands, somehow managing to make his awkwardness look cute.

“No, really, what do you mean by ‘open’?”

“Umm, you know, open relationship, ethical non monogamy, you guys have other partners while being committed to each other… polyamory? He was pretty vo cal about it in the short time we did work together.” He looks hopeful that he’s not actively ruining my life.

Too late.

“Um, well, this is the first time I’m hearing about it. So, news to me.” Tears of shame well up in my eyes and my throat clogs with emotion. His face falls, pity crossing his expression as he reaches over, placing his hand over mine where it rests on my knee.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. You caught him with someone else?”

“Yeah, some redhead bitch he had tied to our fucking bed. I can’t believe him!” I’m oscillating between despair and fuming, all-consuming rage. I don’t even care that I’m baring my deepest pain, and some really personal details to a complete and total stranger.

He had told people we were in an open relationship so he could get away with cheating on me. Probably so he wouldn’t have to explain all my things around the apartment when he brought girls over. I thought I had reached maximum embarrassment. Surprise! It got worse.

“Ah, yeah… that would be Nessa, well, Vanessa” he says, running his hand through his hair, then placing his forearms on his knees, leaning forward into my space.

I’ve never been a tattoo girl, but suddenly it all makes sense to me when his sleeves push up with his movement and I can see he has quite the collection of them.

A black and white piece even pokes out of the collar of his shirt.

“She works here, and he definitely told her a different story. I promise she’s not actually a bitch.” He thinks for a moment, then chuckles dryly. “Well, for the most part. Makes me feel better about firing him, though!”

“Wait, why did you fire him? What happened?” If I’m not going to get the story from the source, may as well get it from someone else. I’m exhausted by all the secrets I’m unearthing, and I really need to know once and for all what kind of person I wasted three years catering to.

“I’m not sure if I can legally tell you…”

“I can find someone else to tell me if you don’t,” I say, trying and failing to sound blasé.

He exhales heavily. “Alright. Well, he kept hitting on customers and making them uncomfortable. He also kept making comments to the other women who work here and a few of them came to me with complaints… I gave him a few warnings, but eventually had to let him go.” So, not only has he been cheating on me with multiple people, he also can’t even use the excuse that it was an accident, or women are always hitting on him, he is actively seeking it out.

“Goddammit, I’m an idiot!” My voice cracks on the last word, angry tears finally spilling over my lashes and down my cheeks. I cover my face with my hands. I want to go home so badly. At the same time, I want to be almost anywhere else besides the shrine of my failed relationship.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay,” Beck moves closer to me, like he wants to comfort me but is unsure how.

“Can I offer you a drink in the back? You look like you could use one. Plus, if I let you leave now, that look in your eyes says I might be an accessory to murder,” he laughs.

It’s a deep, rich sound that I can feel deep in my chest. It warms me up like a sunspot that I want to lay in.

I look up at his eyes, the soft, sweet smile crinkling at the edges.

I guess spending time with a sweet man over a drink isn’t the worst way to spend my afternoon.

The office is small, with brown wood-paneled walls, and a large green filing cabinet in the corner.

In the centre of the room is a dark wooden desk with a swivel chair sat behind it, and across from it, a slightly worn-out armchair, which I promptly drop myself into.

The room is far more outdated than the rest of the shop.

Beck opens a cupboard behind his desk and pulls out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

I hate whiskey but it feels rude to decline it.

Beck pours me a hefty glass and slides it across the desk to me.

I pick it up with a shaking hand and give him what I’m sure is a pitiful smile. So much for pride.

I can be an adult and drink this and not gag, I tell myself. I bring it up to my nose and try not to flinch at the sharp smell of it. It’s a quality whiskey, which probably means I’ll hate it even more. I take a tentative sip before Beck snatches the offending drink out of my hand.

“Hey, what the hell?” I’m too shocked to stop myself from shouting. I thought he was trying to make me feel better, not worse. I take it back. This man is not nice. He’s a dick. All men are dicks.

“You obviously hate it, why would you drink something you hate?” His voice is mocking me, but his eyes are roguish. Okay, maybe he isn’t a dick. It’s actually kind of endearing. I guess. If you’re into men being nice to you.

“I can take care of you, sugar, give me two minutes.” He stands up and leaves the room, leaving the door open behind him, letting the noise of the café trickle in. I sit awkwardly in my chair, hands clasped between my knees. He must think that I’m the most annoying person right now.

But he did call me ‘sugar.’ I’m probably going to have to evaluate the way my body reacted to that later because ohmigod.

I’ve read a lot of romance novels, and I thought that sort of talk only worked when a book boyfriend said it, but here I am, getting all hot and bothered in a stranger’s office because of a nickname.

A cute nickname. Actually, he can call me whatever he wants…

No sooner did I think that then Beck walks back into the room, triumphantly holding a cute pink wine glass with little daisies on it and a chilled bottle of pink wine.

My favourite brand of pink wine, but he looks so excited, I don’t say anything.

He places it on the table and pours me a generous amount before pushing it to sit in front of me.

“Let me know what you think,” he throws out as I take my first sip.

It’s a little floral with citrus notes in it, and just sweet enough to make it balanced. When I open my eyes, Beck is openly beaming.

“That’s my favourite rosé. I recommend it to everyone I can.

I usually have a few bottles on hand at home, too.

” He laughs at himself before leaning back in his chair with his whiskey as he appraises me.

“So, while this is great, can I ask why you came here? Stella said you had something to talk to me about.” My mood sours at being redirected to my actual purpose here.

“Well, I’m trying to get rid of all of Justin’s stuff,” I sniffle into my drink.

“I tried mailing it to his mom, but the delivery was declined, so I need somewhere he can get it without having to come back to my apartment.” I place my glass down and put my forehead on the desk, staring at my cute sandals.

I should really get a pedicure. “I’ll find somewhere else to leave them for him, I don’t want to inconvenience you.

” I can feel myself deflating. I really need this to be over with.

“You can leave it here.” My head whips up to meet his gaze.

“Wait, really?” I stare at him, not fully believing that I’m finally getting somewhere with this.

“Yeah, I still have his number, I can tell him it’s here, so he doesn’t have to bother you again.” His easy smile and tone make it all seem so simple.

“I should say no, but that would be kind of amazing. I don’t really know any of his friends, only their girlfriends, and I feel so weird asking any of them for help.

” Most of my friends were his friends, and I never got the sense that they particularly liked me.

I moved here for him because he wanted to do his Master’s here, then he never got into the program.

By then, we were settled and decided to stay.

I didn’t end up getting to travel home to Kelowna often, so I sort of fell off with my other friends.

It’s hitting me now how alone I am, in a city that I’m not sure was ever meant for me.

“It’s really no problem. We have storage space in the back, and I can tell him I’m throwing it out if he doesn’t come quickly enough.

That way it’s gotten rid of either way, and he can’t give you any shit for it.

Plus, I kind of hated the guy and giving him shit sounds fun to me.

” He winks. That pulls a giggle out of me.

I feel slightly more relaxed now, knowing that at least one thing on my plate is going to be taken care of.