Page 8 of The Hookup Situation (Billionaire Situation #5)

“Before you even say it, nobody got laid.” The to-go cups suddenly need to be reorganized.

“Maybe not, but something happened.” She checks the napkin holders and the receipt paper. “And not to mention, you keep chewing on your inner cheek.”

I didn’t realize I had been doing it.

“Nothing happened. I swear. We watched a movie. I fell asleep on his couch. End of story.”

She grins. “Oh. What movie?”

“ When Harry Met Sally ,” I say.

Her jaw falls to the floor. “You gave him your relationship test.”

I make a face at her. “What? No.”

“Yes, you did. You make every guy you might be into watch that sucky movie. You didn’t finish it?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

Blaire moves closer. “You know it’s okay to have a crush on him. No one cares.”

“He’s fun, but he’s not long-term-relationship material.” I fidget with a loose thread on the corner of my apron.

She elbows me. “Not everything has to be long-term. Live a little. You can have an autumn hookup.”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous.” I shake my head.

“Why?” she questions. “You’re literally glowing, like you swallowed the Andromeda Galaxy. Neither of you is in a position to commit. Why not have fun until he leaves in six weeks?”

I exhale. “I don’t think he’s attracted to me, and it would complicate things. We’re trying to be friends.”

Blaire refills the brown sugar at the end of the counter. “I vote for friends who fuck. It’s just sex. That’s the point. Leave your feelings at the foot of the bed, have an orgasm, then continue on with your day. New besties.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“It is,” she says, like there is no other answer.

Before we open the doors for the morning rush, Blaire spends some time making us each a latte with extra shots of espresso.

“Maybe you can help each other with your relationship issues,” Blaire says, handing me the first one. “Regardless, I’m happy for you because one of us needs some excitement in their life this season.”

My phone buzzes. We both freeze, staring at it like it might explode. It’s another delivery confirmation.

“You’re disappointed that it wasn’t him even though he’s never texted you,” Blaire says.

After Nick left in January, I told Blaire everything. I needed to vent, and she usually has sound advice, even if it’s sometimes sprinkled with a tarot card pull or a crystal being shoved in my pocket.

“Pretty please, get out of my head,” I tell her as she moves to unlock the door.

“No can do, babe. I’m reading all your thoughts!” she says, and I toss a rag at her that she easily catches.

The morning rush saves me from my thoughts, but Blaire’s words stick to me like honey.

An autumn hookup would be fun, and it would have an expiration date.

But I know the type of women Nick has had flings with.

His list includes models, actresses, tennis players, and pop stars.

I don’t see coffee barista being added anytime soon, which is welcome. Honestly.

I lose count of how many shots of espresso I make, and I’m surprised Mrs. Galloway hasn’t come in and called me out for being with Nick.

We work nonstop, barely able to take bathroom breaks until the afternoon rush has moved to just a few lingering customers.

At 2:47, I start counting down the seconds until it’s time to leave.

The evening crew is here and restocking supplies while Blaire and I clean.

The night manager, Tracy, has already switched the cash registers and updated the deposit logs.

I move into the dining room and sweep the croissant crumbs from under the tables, then rearrange the autumn flower basket and sparkly pumpkin decorations on the mantel of the fireplace.

When the bell above the door rings, I glance back to offer a welcome and see Craig. I have to hold back a groan.

He immediately smiles.

I breathe out because he looks good. But that’s not new. I’ve always found him to be attractive with his sandy-brown hair and hazel eyes.

As he moves toward me, I notice he’s carrying a bouquet of yellow roses, and it takes all my strength not to shake my head.

We were together for three years, and he never cared that my favorite roses were pink or white.

This is proof that I can’t let him weasel himself between my sheets ever again. It’s over.

His hunter-green collared shirt fits tight around him, and I can tell he’s been working out and taking care of himself.

“Jules.” He says my name like it’s sacred as he approaches me with that confidence that used to make me feel special. Now, after realizing he uses it as armor in relationships, it exhausts me.

“Craig,” I say, returning to the mantel to rearrange the Halloween town buildings, just to stay busy. “What do you want?”

“To talk.” He sets the roses on the mantel. “You look beautiful.”

I give him a pointed look, and his grin widens.

This is the charming man I fell in love with, but it’s a mask, one he removes when the newness of the relationship wears off.

Over my shoulder, I know there are two tables of ladies trying to listen to every word we’re saying. To my right, Mrs. Caldwell sits with a cup of tea while she does a crossword puzzle in the newspaper.

The Fairy Godmothers are everywhere. This conversation isn’t safe unless I want rumors started .

“You should go.”

“Wow,” he says with a sigh. “I’ve missed you so damn much.”

Blaire appears from the back room, takes one look at the situation, and promptly disappears again.

Traitor.

“Why are you here?” I place the spooky graveyard scene back where it was and stare at him.

“I’m back in town. For good this time.”

He leans forward, almost removing the space between us, but I take a step away.

“I owe you an apology. I’ve changed, Jules. Therapy has really opened my eyes. After being without you, I know you’re the only woman on this planet for me.”

My brows lift, and my mouth falls open. I promptly close it. “Glad you’re finally going to therapy, but we’re over. There are no more chances. We’re too toxic for one another.”

I glance at Mrs. Caldwell, who pretends she hears nothing, but I see how she’s leaning in.

“Julie, baby.” Craig reaches for my hand, but I pull away. “I know I messed up bad, and I’ll do whatever I can to make sure that never happens again.”

“No,” I firmly say, not liking to have to repeat that word.

I’m a people pleaser, and I have the urge to make people happy. Saying no is hard; repeating it is harder. And what sucks is he knows this, but instead, he continues to test me.

“Now, please leave. You’re embarrassing me. I’m at work.” I glance around and see Harold Jenkins pretending not to eavesdrop on this conversation, but I’d bet every dollar in our overflowing tip jar that his wife will know about it before supper.

Shit.

“I was an idiot.” He admits it, which is new. “I get it now. You’re meant to shine, and I didn’t let you. I didn’t support you.”

“Let me?” I glare at him.

He’d freak out on me if I smiled at other men, who were my customers. He’d tell me I was asking to be stared at by dressing certain ways. One thing Craig is wonderful at is gaslighting. His words were chosen wisely, but almost too carefully.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s exactly what you meant. You used to make me feel so small.

It’s a no, Craig. A very firm no. I don’t need your or anyone’s permission to be myself.

I will never change who I am for you or any man.

” I move the roses aside, their sickly sweet scent making my stomach turn. “You lost your chance.”

His jaw tightens, and he’s losing his grip because I won’t lie down for him and submit, like he requires from a woman. “Autumn said you’re seeing someone.”

It’s not a question, but it doesn’t matter because I ignore him. He doesn’t deserve to know anything about me anymore.

“Who is he?” Craig steps closer, and suddenly, the space between us disappears. He grabs my left hand, holding it in his. “Because until there’s a ring on this finger, I won’t give up. I still love you. I realize now I always will.”

I pull my fingers from his grasp, not liking how pushy he’s being. Maybe this is why Autumn was protecting me from his weird persistence.

“Do you remember what you told me the day you ended things with me?” I raise my voice a little more so that the rest of the eavesdroppers can hear and spread this fact around town.

“No,” he mutters. “I wasn’t myself.”

“I think you were exactly who you are.” I smile, but it’s forced. “You said you wanted a more submissive woman, one who wasn’t asking for attention from men and who knew how to listen.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Let me be clear. I’ve not changed. I will not be submissive to you or any man.”

“I don’t want you to change because I have,” he tells me. “I want you exactly how you are.”

He looks almost hurt, and my self-doubt kicks in. I try to remember this is part of his manipulation, part of the cycle that keeps bringing us back together.

“Come on. Remember all the good times we had? You were mine, Julie, baby. It was me and you. All those late summer nights, lying in the back of my truck, waiting for fireflies to appear. We were perfect together. Everyone said so.”

I think about those summer nights and the vibe of it as the crickets chirped.

Then I remember how he humiliated me in front of my friends and family when he brought his new fiancée to town.

Sometimes, it’s hard to believe the man who promised to love me forever could’ve been so cruel. It erased the good times for me.

“Everyone is delusional. They have no idea how controlling you were.”

Sometimes, when I’m lying in my bed at night, I think about what I’ll say to Craig the next time he tries to beg me back. I promised myself I’d never sleep with him again after the last autumn. It happened to be the same night I met Nick.

I’d asked the goddesses, how Blaire had instructed, to give me a sign to never see Craig again. Nick appeared like an angel.