“OH MY GOD!”
“I know. I KNOW!”
Brooke smirks. “You’re going from privately pretending in front of each other’s families to the red carpet real quick, my dear. Now that’s what I call a glow up.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“How do you plan on surviving something like that? They don’t exactly have garbage cans lining the velvet ropes for you to throw up in when you get nervous.”
Glow up and throw up are becoming synonymous in my head right about now.
My eyes narrow. “That happened one time.”
“Only because you magically became sick every time we had a school play after! Some people thought you hated Christmas because you never were a part of the production.”
What kind of monster did my classmates take me for? “I plan on taking a shot before I even get to the event. That should cure any stage fright.”
Brooke nods. “Moving along to my next question about this train wreck of a plan. How nervous do you think he feels about returning? If you’re scared, I’m sure he’s shitting bricks.”
It’s all I can think about. How will Santiago handle that kind of pressure? What will it be like for him to return to the one place he swore he would never be a part of again? Will he crumble under the pressure? My list of questions grows as the days tick by.
“Trust me, I do think about him. I still can’t believe he agreed to do it in the first place. I mean, he’s only going for Noah, but still.”
“There’s nothing I love more than a good old-fashioned sacrifice.”
“That came out very wrong, just so you’re aware.”
Brooke cackles. “All right. Walk me through your plan for the weekend. And if it doesn’t include touching his dick, I’m unfriending you and selling all your shit on Facebook Marketplace.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.” She smirks.
“Chloe, I hope you don’t mind me asking this question, but I can’t hold off anymore.” Matteo closes the drawer to the cash register.
I pause my swiping of the glass window. “Yes?” Somehow my voice remains calm despite my escalating heart rate.
What could he possibly want to ask me? Is it too much to hope he recognizes me finally after working around each other for this long? We have the same hair color and both agree the eighties was the best decade ever. It’s not exactly twinning, but it’s close enough.
“Why are you working here if you’re dating Santiago? Not that I’m not grateful for your help, but…”
Disappointment taints my excitement. Rather than stew in my negativity, I say the first thing that comes to mind. “I’m interested in opening a coffee shop myself, so I thought the best way to learn was from someone who has one.”
Nice. A+ response. I swear, I’ll stop lying once I reveal my identity to Matteo. Until then, I plan on weaving a web of lies with my hypocritical fingers because I can’t bear facing the truth.
I hate myself a bit more each day I work here. It’s draining to pretend I’m not dying to learn everything personal about him and give our relationship a real chance.
He purses his lips. “Ahh. I didn’t know you were interested in that.”
Yeah, neither did I. “I’ve spent time visiting different shops and learning about them.” Okay, that’s true. I tend to visit a Starbucks from time to time when I run out of coffee for the week.
“What have you learned so far from me?”
“That you love your shot of espresso with a dash of milk and you sing ABBA’s ‘Take A Chance on Me’ when you’re thinking about something.” I mentally face-palm myself at how stalkerish I sound.
“You pay attention.”
That’s one way to reframe my psychotic behavior.
I smile. “Yes. Plus, I’ve been watching you make different drinks and learning for myself.”
He pats the counter with a smile. “If you’re interested in learning more, you can start working behind the counter with me.”
“Really?” The question leaves my lips with a squeak.
“Sure. Come in tomorrow an hour earlier and I’ll teach you some of the basics.”
“Yes! I’d love that! Sure!” I cringe at my desperation.
“If only my son was as excited as you are to learn about the family business.” Matteo chuckles to himself.
My chest tightens. It’s such a casual statement, but it has me grinning to myself. I don’t want to be petty about my supposed little brother. It’s not his fault he wants to go to a university and live his best life in Milan. The selfish part of me wants something Matteo can be proud of me about, and this seems like my way in. If it means learning all about coffee and posing as someone I’m not, so be it.