Page 3 of Semi Sweet (Working For Love #1)

S ome people read to escape from reality.

Since I was in the third grade, I made my own realities through writing.

It was how I coped even now. When I got home from my shift, and my mind continued to replay how Evan behaved when I’d been in the bakery, I thought maybe it would help.

I curled under a blanket on the couch and opened my laptop.

Olivia Hale’s life hadn’t always been like this. She hadn’t always been the Cash Value Market pariah. When Evan asked her out back when she was sixteen, people at the store were thrilled for her.

That was how I imagined the hook would be, if my life were Contemporary Fiction. I couldn’t call it a Rom-Com because lately there was more tragedy than humor.

How had we’d gotten here? Back when Evan had been a service clerk without real responsibilities, something about him had been so irresistible.

Had I been blinded by someone giving me attention and by the time I’d realized who he really was, it was too late?

The thought made my fingers fly over the keys as I tried to sort my thoughts into fiction.

Every time Olivia would clock into work and head to her register, her heart would flutter when she saw him bagging customers’ groceries.

Conversation flowed easily between him and the customers.

Whether they were a teenager or the grandmotherly type, all he had to do was turn on the flirty charm and he could make anyone feel special and important.

I’d clearly fallen under the spell. His midnight blue eyes had certainly helped draw me in, too. Eyes were the trait I noticed first when it came to any man and usually the first trait I wrote about in my stories. I bitterly wondered if my characters were smarter than I was as I kept typing.

Olivia was naive and had no experience. She’d never had a boyfriend before she met Evan.

She didn’t know what else was out there.

Sometimes she wondered if she should have taken her time or met other guys before she’d gone all in, but Evan had given her so much attention that it was hard to not get swept away.

It had been seven years and I still remembered vividly the day Evan asked me out, way back when he did cool things like longboarding around the city after work or going to the movies with friends.

My eyes pricked with tears as I remembered the things we used to do, the nostalgia like a sickness.

I clenched my jaw so that the tears wouldn’t actually fall.

“You’re pretty cool. I had no idea you liked science fiction movies,” Evan said as we stood at the time clock.

“What can I say, I have eclectic taste,” Olivia replied with a smirk.

“Next time you do something neat, I want to be your date.”

“Date?”

“I mean, if you’re into it.”

Everyone, whether they were customer or employee at Cash Value Market, wanted Evan.

Not even throwing his family’s business into conversation, he was just that charming and sociable.

So I said yes without a second thought. I didn’t want to give him the opportunity to move on to someone else.

If I had known what my life would become, I would have gladly passed.

Hindsight is everything. My jaw tensed so hard that it started to ache, but I refused to give into the emotions.

Geraldo and Benedetta Quittero were born in Italy.

In the early sixties, the newlyweds emigrated from outside Rome to downtown Denver.

Why Denver instead of the East coast? The Apennine Mountains had been the backdrop to Evan’s grandmother’s life and she wanted to live somewhere that reminded her of home.

They had a tiny market that grew and grew until they had the means to open more store fronts.

The Quitteros were a true rags to riches story—an example of the American Dream.

Almost sixty years later they had twenty supermarkets and one chalet store.

The entire family had a role in the company.

Even Evan’s mother Jennifer, who married into the family, was the chief finance officer.

Back when I was a teen and Evan was a low level service clerk, I never thought that might be my future.

I stopped to shake my head at my naivety.

Olivia was sucked in by the lifestyle the Quitteros lived.

Not that her family was poor, but they lived a much more modest life.

Evan’s family lived in the rich section of the city in a townhouse with a private rooftop patio.

They had a family driver to bring them work and other functions and summer homes in Aruba and Italy.

Evan’s grandparents had even more wealth.

Olivia attended weekly dinners at a lavish estate in the Denver suburbs.

Despite the multiple houses, expensive clothing, and other things that Evan had grown up with, he’d always been so kind in the beginning.

Sometimes I wasn’t sure if it was real or it had been a ploy to suck me in.

I’d become so wary over the years that I know longer trusted what I remembered.

Had he taken an interest in my creativity and dreams of being a best seller or did I make it up so it didn’t hurt so bad?

I hated the uncertain fog. Was that a trauma response?

That momentarily made my fingers stop moving to reflect before I resumed with even more vigor.

“Why do you want to be a published author?” Evan asked one night as Olivia typed away on her laptop. “Like why is this something you want to do for fun?” It seemed like he wanted to understand her better.

“There’s just something about people having this discourse about my characters. I want them to love them as much as I do. I want to go into a bookstore and see all my books on a table. I feel like I’ll mean something if my books make a difference in someone’s lives.”

Evan smiled. “That’s the most Olivia answer I’ve ever heard.” When they first started dating Evan thought that Olivia was quirky and complex. “But if it makes you happy, then who am I to judge?”

Back then, when I’d still shared my plot ideas or openly entered writing contests, I hadn’t considered that comment to be mean.

Evan’s demeanor changed when he got his corporate job and it had seemed so sudden.

Now that time had passed and I was being more honest with myself, his resentment and descent had been much more gradual.

There were many bitter remarks that I’d laughed off, explained away.

People had tried to warn me. The nostalgia seeped away and was replaced with resentment.

A different reason for trying to stifle my tears as I worked.

Olivia’s father was a stern but honest man. He always wanted what was best for his daughters, Allison, Olivia, and Elenore. If you were a hard worker and had goals, he had no problems with you.

“He doesn’t have a plan,” Mr. Hale warned his daughter at the supper table.

“He’s nineteen, Dad,” Olivia tried to insist.

“So are you,” he contested. “And you have a plan. Two plans.”

My dad knew how badly I wanted to be an author, but we’d discussed having other options just in case. I’d gotten my undergraduate degree in English, but I was planning on marketing for grad school in case I tried to get into the industry another way.

I think my dad had a sixth sense and knew that Evan was going to rely on family money until he had no other choice.

Evan didn’t go to school. He took money from his grandparents to pay his rent.

They’d all but picked out the place where he lived, way more lavish than someone our age should have been able to afford.

I looked around our living room and should have appreciated what I had, but I currently wasn’t feeling very grateful.

“Move in with me. My place is so big, too big for just me.”

Olivia was surprised at his urgency. They were still teenagers. They’d only been together for two years. “I’m not sure I could help you pay the rent.”

“No need. My grandparents bought it outright. They only ask that I get more involved in the company. I figured I should start easing in.”

Olivia had reservations, but she also thought she was with the love of her life. “I don’t think you can just ease in,” she said. “Cash Value Market is a big company that makes important decisions daily. If they wait too long, they lose money.”

Evan didn’t seem concerned. “Most of those people aren’t related to the CEO, COO, and CFO.”

I’d stopped trying to convince him after that.

It was obvious that he’d made up his mind.

He made it sound so easy and the more he told me and other people about it, the more I fell into a false sense of security.

The more I believed it. Maybe falling into denial was a better way to describe it.

The bitter taste of anger with myself was hard to choke down as I started writing again.

“If I live with him, I’ll be able to focus on paying off my student loans,” Olivia attempted to convince her parents.

“You could do the same thing here,” her mother said.

“You’re nineteen,” Mr. Hale scolded. “I forbid it.”

“What if I do it anyway?” Olivia asked.

Mr. Hale looked at her gravely. “Don’t come back.”

I didn’t consider myself a defiant child.

Before Evan came along, my parents and I never fought.

My dad only made living with Evan more desirable by trying to deny me it.

Now I was convinced that the Quittero lifestyle had bewitched me.

I saw what money could give me. My dad just wanted me to work for it, not sleep with someone to get there.

In the beginning I was too preoccupied with my freedom and the perks from living with Evan to miss my sisters. I had financial stability! How could my father be upset by that? On paper, my life looked like it was going to be perfect. I began to type so furiously I wondered if I’d break my keyboard.