Wait.
That抯 not Lincoln.
Frick.
I did it again, scrolling up as bile rises in my throat. Sure enough, Jay sent three more messages I missed while ordering.
Dakota, it was a year ago. Talk to me. We can work this out.
Yeah, no. Opinions and bad behaviors can be worked out. Leaving a woman virtually at the altar is pretty much final.
You owe it to me…to us…to all the time we spent together.
Right. If only he抎 thought about what he owed me before blowing our wedding off to chase his dumb music and his dumber bandmate抯 ass.
I never asked him to give up his band. Not in a million years.
Old me would抳e even followed him to California in a heartbeat if he抎 asked me to stay like the lonely, loyal puppy I was. He didn抰。
Just give me a chance to explain. If you still hate me after that, fine.
Oh, jackass. I don抰 need anyone抯 permission to hate you.
I block his number. Again.
Ugh. I might have to take Lincoln up on that offer to shut him up, whatever it involves.
Then I move to the next message in my box.
Lincoln: Is he still harassing you? Don抰 try to convince him you抮e better off without him. He抣l try to prove you wrong. Just block his number. Life is too short.
Cute. Now I抦 getting advice about handling rotten exes from the bosshole.
Dakota: Thanks, but I抳e been blocking him. He just keeps finding new numbers. You have to buy twelve Regis rolls tonight and they won抰 be ready for half an hour. Is that okay?
Lincoln: Yes. Do whatever it takes for the rolls. If he keeps finding new numbers, let抯 put an app on your phone to send unknowns straight to archive. The security is pretty good at deleting anything made with Google or other quickie tools as spam.
Is that a thing? I didn抰 even know.
Also, what is happening? Lincoln Burns is really helping me? Not just scolding me or having a laugh at my expense with some foot-in-mouth swipe.
Thank you. We抣l try it, I text.
I drop the phone back in my purse.
揧eah, I抣l take the dozen. Can I get a latte for the wait??I finally confirm for Barista Boy.
揙f course, no problem.?
I pay for the order and move to the counter where my drink slides across momentarily before I sit down at a table and wait for the rolls.
My phone goes off again. I doubt it抯 Jay this time. He may be ridiculously fast, but I抦 sure he hasn抰 had time to spoof a new number yet.
Lincoln: I think you抣l understand why I need the cinnamon rolls tonight.
Dakota: The same reason you need the mystery package? You抮e so weird.
Lincoln: I don抰 want to risk you freaking out when you arrive, so I抣l tell you now. The mystery package contains a prosthetic leg.
I stop cold. What?
Dakota: Why, pray tell, am I traveling around with an artificial leg?
Lincoln: Just don抰 mention the damned leg. He hates that.
Again, the mystery deepens. I realize this must all tie back to his weird charity pastry runs, but a single prosthetic? Apparently for someone very specific?
He? I send back.
Lincoln: You抣l see.
Dakota: You抎 better not have an imaginary friend, or I swear I will go full Poe on your butt.
There抯 a pause before his next message sails in.
Lincoln: I have something worse梐 very mouthy assistant.
Damn him. But maybe, for once, I deserved that.
Dakota: Meh. You knew that when you hired me, and I was just supposed to write copy, remember? If I抎 known I抎 get stuck babysitting you all day, I never would抳e taken this job. No matter how well it pays.
God help me, I抦 smiling. I抦 also hyperconscious of the few people milling around Sweeter Grind watching me and wondering what抯 gotten in my head, so I hide my smile behind my hand, nibbling at my knuckles.
Lincoln: Liar. You belong to me, Miss Poe.
Oof. I wonder if that was a slip or intentional. A normal boss would say you belong here, but this is Lincoln Burns and he抯？
Yeah. He抯 not making this suffocating tension any better.
I don抰 respond this time, although arguing with Lincoln does make the evening go faster. It抯 a warm, clear night. My favorite kind of moon rises high out the window, slowly, casting a pale-yellow sheen over everything that feeds my Gothic fantasies in this city.
Well, Gothic-ish.
I try not to think about the fact that I抦 meeting up with my boss under the moonlight to deliver a freaking leg.
He might be an irredeemable vampire of a man, but if it抯 meant to be moody and romantic, the weirdness outshines everything.
My phone hums again.
Lincoln: Anna isn抰 giving up on her fake marriage idea, you know. Word gets around. Other people think it抯 a good idea too, even if they won抰 come out and say it.
Dakota: Other people like…？
Lincoln: Half the marketing team. Plus design.
My heart sinks. I wonder how many of my coworkers are whispering behind my back, hoping I抣l take the bait and fake it with Lincoln for their amusement.
With a sigh, I text back, Do you want me to call a talent company and set something up?
Lincoln: Fuck no. The last thing I need is a high maintenance model hanging around and trying to seduce me. Wouldn抰 be the first time.
I roll my eyes. He can抰 go ten minutes without brandishing his ego, and the worst part is, I know it抯 probably true.
I just wonder why his dating life seems so hollow if he has a harem of supposed supermodels lined up. Most men with his looks and his money would barely poke their noses in the office. They抎 be too busy banging and breaking hearts in one bad fling after the next.
Dakota: Well, best not to keep the people waiting. Congratulations on your fake wedding, boss.
I抦 not game. That抯 for sure.
Lincoln: It抯 not my fake wedding. It抯 Anna抯 and it抯 still not happening. Even if I抣l admit I can抰 stop thinking about the interesting opportunities it might bring…
Dakota: So why are you texting me about it? Does Anna scare you that much?
Lincoln: No. He sends a red-faced emoji with smoke coming out of its ears.
I laugh.
Ten minutes later, Barista Boy calls my name and gently places a box on the counter. I grab it and head back to the car.
揂re we going to the park now??Louis asks once I抦 back in my seat.
揂re we??Would I really be taking a leg and cinnamon rolls to the park? 揕incoln texted me the address. Hang on, I抣l get it for you.?
I pull out my phone, find the address, and read it off to him.
He pulls back on the road, goes up a couple of blocks, and takes a left turn. Sure enough, before I can blink, we抮e back at the encampment in the park, not far from Sweeter Grind.
Nothing about this makes sense.
揂re you sure we抮e at the right place??I ask again, uncertain.
揙nce again, this is the address, Miss Poe,?he says.
揗aybe I got it wrong??I pick up my phone to call Lincoln so I can confirm the address.
But before I do, I see Louis?dark eyes in the rearview mirror looking back at me.
揑 doubt it. He comes here a lot after picking up his rolls. There he is now!?He gestures at the passenger window.
My eyes follow in the direction he抯 pointing.
You can抰 miss him.
Like a gleaming diamond in the velvet night, the ivory Adonis stands in front of a ragged tent, crisp and cool in a three-piece suit. There抯 my modern Gothic.
It抯 oddly beautiful, even if it抯 also just weird.
But not that weird, is it? I think back to the time I saw him when I was in the park with Eliza weeks ago. This was definitely the spot where I saw him talking to that homeless dude and hinting at a million secrets.