Page 28 of Storm in a Teacup (Love in Edinburgh #3)

Ben

I hang my pinny on a hook in the kitchen before slipping on my jacket.

Today is one of those days where the end of my shift has come upon me rather quickly.

Those are the best days, the ones where I get to spend the time chatting with customers, baking, and just reminding myself why we wanted to open this café in the first place.

Isla is behind the counter while Scott is cleaning up a few tables when I come up front.

To Isla, I say, “I’m gonna head out.”

“Alright. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

I take one step, but she pauses me with an, “Oh.” I twist back to her. “I keep forgetting. I have a gig tomorrow, if you want to come.”

Isla used to be rather evasive about inviting people to watch her sing, but she’s gotten a lot better about it since she started seeing Rachel. I think because Rachel constantly reminds her how much we all enjoy hearing her sing. However, it has been a while since I’ve agreed to go .

“Sure,” I say.

Her eyebrows perk up. “Really?”

I shrug. “Yeah, of course.”

She purses her lips. “David is probably going to be there.”

I stiffen on instinct, my heart pinging when I hear his name, as it always does.

When I recover, I say, “Okay. That’s fine.”

“It’s at McCarthy’s.”

Ah, that’s why she’s being weird. McCarthy’s, aka the pub where I confessed.

I am so sick of this ache. Of being afraid to go places because of possible bad memories or feelings. I’m going. There’s no stopping me. I am fed up with this, and I am so unbelievably furious that I let this stop me for so long.

I say, “I like McCarthy’s.” Because I do. “Fine if I invite Linny?”

“Yeah,” she says, toying with the blue scrunchie around her wrist. “Are you only inviting her because of David?”

That question surprises me, though I can’t say why. “No. I just haven’t seen her in a few days.”

Five, to be exact. Not that I’m counting. Except I am counting because I am tired of consistently going multiple days without seeing someone I would like to see every day.

“Cool. I like Linny.” She drums her fingers on the counter. “When is the wedding again?”

“Two weeks.” I sigh. “I know you want to tell Rachel, and I promise you can as soon as this whole thing is over. I just think it will be easier for her to not tell David if Linny and I are broken up in a way.”

“Fine. I hate this, though.”

“Me too,” I agree .

I take my leave at that. Instead of heading home, I pivot and head into Better than New Antiques. I figure I’ll go ahead and ask Linny about coming to McCarthy’s tomorrow.

I don’t see her or Carolyn when I walk in, which is odd. One of them is normally behind the front counter. Even if they’re somewhere else in the shop, potentially hiding behind a tall piece of furniture or what have you, I’d expect them to shout out a greeting.

I poke around a bit, weaving through the aisles before I find Linny in the slightly elevated section at the back of the shop, arms crossed over her chest with her back to me. Even with the squeak of my approaching footsteps on the uneven hardwood floors, she doesn’t seem to hear me.

I clear my throat, and with that, she pivots around. “Ben,” she practically breathes. “What are you doing here?”

I cock my head to the side, confused by this response to my presence. “Just popping in to see you, cardamom.”

“Oh.”

I’m not saying she’s always excessively enthusiastic about my presence, but this is different. She’s indifferent about me being here. It’s throwing me off. “Er, do you want to come with me to a gig of Isla’s tomorrow? At McCarthy’s pub.”

“Why?”

I keep pushing through this extremely weird vibe of a conversation. “Because I thought you’d like to come?”

“Oh. Uh, maybe? I don’t know. Do you need me there?”

I chuckle. “No, I don’t need you there. I want you there. David is probably going to be there, but…”

She cuts me off with a sharp inhale and a slight roll of her eyes.

My jaw tightens. “What?”

“I just…” she covers her face with a hand for a moment be fore dragging it away and losing my eye. “I just don’t have the energy for this right now.”

“The gig is tomorrow—”

“No,” she cuts me off. “I mean the whole David thing. The whole I’m in love with this guy but he doesn’t love me back bullshit. People have bigger things going on, Ben. Move past it.” Her eyes widen as she slaps a hand over her mouth, as though realizing what she said a moment too late.

My jaw manages to tighten even further. “Right.”

She shakes her head rapidly, dragging her hand away from her mouth. “Oh my god. Benny, I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. That was horrible to say.”

I blow out a huff of air, not meeting her eye. “Yeah, I didn’t love that.”

She approaches me carefully. “I’m sorry,” she says again, gently grabbing my arm. “I’m being extremely self-centered right now. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

I use my hand to cover hers. “Really, Lin. It’s fine.” I swallow. “What’s wrong?”

She sighs, glancing behind herself, and says quietly, “That couch is green.”

I look at the couch in question. It’s a small loveseat with a frame of brass and, yes, sage green upholstered fabric functioning as the seating.

“It is green,” I agree, not sure what exactly the issue is.

“I thought it was gray.”

“Oh. Like when you bought it?”

“No.” Then she amends, “Well, yeah, but that’s not what I meant. I thought it was gray until just now. The light hit it a certain way as it got brighter in here, and I could see that it was green.”

“Oh,” I say again, still not understanding the true issue.

She exhales a thick breath of air through her nose.

“I couldn’t see the color. I mean, I see it now, but I couldn’t see it until a certain light hit it, then my brain changed the color for me, so I can see it now.

” She swallows. “RP can involve color blindness. I could have trouble with colors because of the cones, which help you see color, mutating. My aunt has a hard time with purple and brown. Red, pink, and orange. Gray and certain greens.”

I think I finally understand where she’s going with this. “Right. That really blows. I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not…I knew this was coming.

And I’m not even surprised when things like this happen.

I mean, I just noticed a pan that I’ve owned for years is dark blue on the outside.

I’ve been thinking it was black. Whatever.

I hate that, but whatever. But this color…

” She trails off, pinching between her eyebrows.

“What, Lin?” I ask gently.

“I like that color.” Her eyes meet mine, wet and open, but no tears fall.

“I really love that color green and one day”—she points toward the couch, her hand shaking—“one day, I won’t be able to see it.

One day it’ll stay gray, or whatever other fucking color it will turn into as my eyes continue to change and that just sucks.

It sucks, Ben, because I like that color and I want to keep seeing it and it is so unfair that one day I won’t be able to, but other people will be able to see that color for the entirety of their lives. ”

“Linny,” I say quietly, unsure of what else to say.

She bulldozes on. “I am so tired of losing things. I’m losing my peripheral vision, I’m losing colors, I lost my…

” Her hand forms a fist across her stomach before she presses it to her mouth.

“I am so tired. And I am so…so angry . I’m pissed.

I am so furious all the time .” She shakes her head, gazing up to keep the tears at bay.

“Every day, I have to look at everything that I won’t have one day.

I have to stare at the world that I am losing.

And I hate it. I hate it so much because I can’t stop it.

” She looks back to me. “I know exactly what’s coming for me.

I watched my dad lose so much of his independence. I’m going to lose that too.”

I reach out as gently as I can, hand on her arm, no idea what I can say, understanding my words are not what she needs right now.

“Do you know what it’s like to know your future?

To know exactly what’s coming for you and to be completely defenseless against it?

Until science decides to figure it out.” She pulls out of my grasp, turning away from me.

“Sorry. Some days, it hits me harder than others. Some days, I get so angry that I want to run and run until I am so far away that none of this matters. So infuriated that I could smash everything in this store. So upset that I could crawl in a hole and not move for the rest of my life and be totally content with that. Or so deranged that I could go knocking on the door of every doctor or scientist I can find and beg them to find a cure faster.”

“I’m angry for you,” I say. She turns back to me. “I wish you didn’t have to go through this. I wish I could do this for you. I wish I could go bug those doctors myself.”

“Thanks,” she says, knowing what I know as well, that my words mean nothing because nothing can be changed.

However, something else she said prompted an idea. It won’t fix anything, but it may help her feel better, if only for a little while.

“That box of broken teacups I saw one time I was here—what do you do with them? ”

Her brow furrows adorably. “Sell them if they’re still whole. I mean, people buy them to make candles or whatever. They don’t care if they’re chipped.”

“How much do you sell them for?”

“Like fifty pence apiece. Why?”

I grin. “I have an idea.” I pivot on my heel and head back to the office, where I find Carolyn polishing a silver pot.

She smiles up at me. “Bennett. Hello.”

“Hiya, Carolyn. Can I steal Linny for the rest of the day?”

“Sure. She’s here too often anyway.”

“Hey!” Linny protests. “I work here.”

I grab the box of teacups off the shelf. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“Just trust me on this.”

She sighs, but proceeds to follow me out the door as I lead the way to my flat.