Not About Love

Chapter Seven

Trust is a strange animal. It never operates quite the way you want it to, instead choosing its own path. The only guarantee is trust equals pain, whether you've granted it or withheld it.

After having spent so much time in Braden's presence, having no choice but to allow him to take care of me, I needed to reinforce the battlements. He needed to go. Period. Having him in my life was dangerous. Doctor Edwards' voice admonished me as I came up with new ways to get him to back off, excuses I could make avoid hanging out with him, ignoring his phone calls, above all, finding a way out of the date he'd conned me into.

Staying busy helped enormously. It had been almost three weeks since I'd fallen ill. I was slowly putting back on the weight I'd lost, and I no longer felt like I'd be knocked over in a stiff breeze. For my first week back at work, I'd stayed in the back most of the time, searching for ways to cut costs, taking a hard look at my inventory and reviewing sales from the past year, culling what hadn't sold and marking down what had flown off the shelves. I surfed the web, browsing other indie stores websites and noted what special events or features they had, tried to come up with ways to tweak it so it would work in my store, in my neighborhood. I paid more attention to the customer flow, observing who seemed to wander in and who came in with a purpose. It didn't matter that I likely had a few months to counter Brennan's offer. I felt like I had days. The urgency ground down on me until I fell into bed exhausted every night.

Tony stopped by on my first day back on the floor. The bells jangled as I was ringing up a customer, and I glanced up as he walked through the door. My grin could have split my face in half as I took in the huge arrangement of gerbera daisies in his arms. I handed the bag across the counter before hurrying over to him and flinging my arms around his neck.

"Eh, careful there, Lisle, don't want to crush the pretty flowers now, do you?" He placed them on the counter and then squeezed me tight. "You're looking better than I expected. Too skinny, but better." He grinned.

I gave him a smacking kiss on the cheek. "Been pining away for you, Antonio. How are you?" He looked good, as usual. His black hair was slicked back from his face, and his dark eyes sparkled with humor. His easy going nature belied the sharp businessman underneath, but he treated his tenants like family.

He sobered. "You know why I'm here." My good mood dropped to somewhere around my knees. I hadn't forgotten, exactly, that he was selling my building. My brain couldn't connect happy-go-lucky Tony with something so personally devastating.

"Is this the point in the conversation where you say, 'It's not you, it's me?'" I said wryly.

He chuckled, the sound trailing off into a sigh. "I'm sorry, Lisle. I don't have much choice. The economy's dragged everything into the mud, and I've got to do something to stay afloat. I've got four spaces in this neighborhood alone untenanted, and of the occupied properties, you're the only one who pays their rent on time. I've been trying to sell off the empty ones. No one's biting."

I drew back and leveled my gaze at him. "How much?" He shook his head. "How much, Tony? How much is Brennan's offering for the building?" After a hell of a lot more hesitation on his part, he named a figure that had the blood draining from my face. "Good Christ." Despite the sunlight streaming through the windows, I started to shake with cold. It was far more than I could afford. Far more than I could afford in two lifetimes. The universe was must be out to screw me over. Big time.

"It's business. You know that." His voice sounded like he was close to getting on his knees and begging me to understand. I did. It still gauged a huge hole in me.