Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

Lincoln

M y mind is fucking blown. She's the person I've been talking to for months? The one I've told my hopes and dreams to? It's kind of funny that she's the one I've been talking to for months. Some complaints I made to Decorator Babe were about Lyla.

"What do you think about me being Bossman?" I question, as she takes a seat on the cot. Between the two of us, we're on opposite sides of the room, both staring at each other as if we've just met for the first time.

"I'm not completely surprised." She pulls her feet up underneath her, on the cot.

Seeing her socks is more intimate than anything I've imagined. I've never seen her fully clothed, but I've thought enough times how Decorator Babe would look. "How are you not surprised? What is it that gave me away?"

A smirk spreads across her face. "There were certain phrases that you use, that he used. I wasn't positive, but there were other little things that reminded me of you. How do you feel about me being the woman you've been talking to?"

Inhaling deeply, I bring my fist in front of my face, resting my chin against it. "I don't know. I'm not sure what to think. It's not like I don't know how beautiful you are. I'm not blind. It's not like I don't know what a great person you are. I've seen it time after time."

"That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me." She swallows loudly, her light eyes meeting mine. "There were times when I worked with you before, where I wasn't sure if you actually liked me or not. On certain days you wouldn't look at me, much less have a conversation with me."

"I was intimidated," I admit, raking my fingers through my hair.

"Intimidated? You intimidated by me?" She questions, eyebrows raised. "Why in the world would you be worried about me?"

This is hard to explain. "I've lived my whole life in the shadow of my brother..."

"What? He's a fuckup. You've told me that a million times."

I get up, pacing the short length of the room. It's even smaller than it appeared when I started. Now it's time for some truth, and she's the first person I'm ever admitting any of this to, someone besides my therapist. "He is. A big fuckup, but he always comes out on top. He's the king of things, always working out in his favor. Over the past few years, he's had five ideas of what he wants to do with the rest of his life. But he's never executed any of it. My parents have given him tens of thousands of dollars, and they will continue to do so. It's like he has something on them that will ruin the rest of their lives."

"Like he's blackmailing them?" She laughs.

It sounds absurd, but it's part of what I deal with every single time I question why they give him everything he wants. They never ask how he's going to pay them back, they never expect him to. "I think so, because he's never had to pay them what he's borrowed. They've never asked for it. Meanwhile, I have to sign promissory notes with them to make sure I'm on a payment plan. They have to know exactly when I'm going to pay them back, and if I ever fall behind, they come to collect."

"Really? That's insane to me. They didn't want to help you?" She reaches out, grasping my fingers with hers. "You've been one of the most successful people I've ever met in my life."

Hearing her say it out loud hurts. I've wanted my parents to say those words to me. "Thank you. No one has ever told me that before. It's everything I've wanted to hear. I'm not doing this for anyone else besides myself." I motion to the room, indicating the bakery itself. "I wanted this for me, because I wanted to support myself, no matter what happened. Sometimes I'd like for the people I care about to tell me how proud they are."

"That's what we all want." She pulls me down so that I'm sitting next to her. "I wanted it too, but no one even told me they were sorry my bakery closed except for Kayla. She's the only one who knew how hard I fought for it, how much it tore me apart not to make it work."

"I'm sorry. I wasn't there for you. Regardless of what happened between the two of us the night you left, I should've been there for you." I reach out, running a hand down her cheek. I've never allowed myself to touch her like this before. I thought about it, but I couldn't let myself go there.

She shakes her head. "Maybe we should've been there for each other, Lincoln. I have a feeling the two of us could help each other out. We could be the missing piece we've been looking for."

That sounds good. Like something I've been searching for, for most of my life. "Do you think that could work out?" We're alone in the bakery. No one is going to interrupt whatever may happen between us. We're both vulnerable, and there's never going to be a better time than the present.

"I think it's a possibility." She swallows. "And now that I know you're interested in exploring whatever this is between us." She gestures to me, then back at her. "I'm down for it too."

Well, if that isn't an invitation to take the kiss I've always wanted from her, I don't know what is. Reaching out, I cup my palm to her check, and then slowly lean forward. I give her plenty of time to put a stop to this, or to tell me it's not what she wants. When she doesn't, I take the leap and lock our lips together.

not what she wants. When she doesn't, I take the leap and lock our lips together.