“You know it’s like a free beach vacation, though, right?”
“I know, but I can’t take a week off now that our landlord sent this.” She pulls a crumpled letter out of her hoodie pocket and hands it to me.
When I read it, I see actual red from what he’s charging her family for their lease. Someone is squeezing her family dry while her father is fighting cancer. That’s absolutely disgusting. After my father died from a heart problem when I was in middle school, no one tried to take advantage of us like this.
I hold up the letter. “They’re really asking this much?”
She nods, but doesn’t say anything. Suddenly she looks younger than her twenty-nine years and far too exhausted. It makes me wonder when she last took a day off.
She rubs her forehead. “Dad’s new treatments aren’t covered by insurance, so I just don’t see how we can make it work.” Her hand falls away. “I would do anything to keep the cafe here. I love this location. This town. What my family has built here.”
I see what she means. With the pine-board flooring and the exposed-brick walls, the place has so much charmand character. Every week, Scarlett writes the menu of new baked goods on the chalkboard sign. Although her parents opened the cafe, she’s the reason this place has been so successful, trying out new ideas and posting pictures on social media.
I’m still staring at the letter from her landlord when my phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s a text from my uncle, asking me to pick up lunch. I respond immediately. When he gave me the coaching position, he made it clear—the way Rafael always does—that the job came with expectations.Don’t let down your family. Be someone worth the Marco name.After everything he did for me after my sister’s accident, the least I can do is not let him down.
I look back at the letter and that’s when it hits me. “Hey, what if I could help you make more money?”
She crosses her arms, unimpressed. “Is this a get-rich-quick scheme?”
“No. My uncle mentioned he’s looking for a new food vendor at the hockey arena. It’s only for game days, but you’d make bank during hockey season. Think of it like an extension of what you already do—you’d supply the arena on game days, keep your cafe running, and the contract earnings could offset whatever your landlord is throwing at you.”
“Have you and Gabriella been talking behind my back?”
“No—why?”
“Because she mentioned the same thing. But I don’t know anything about expanding into sports venues. That’s a whole different level of operation.”
“You could learn. Trust me, hockey fans will worship at the counter of your triple-chocolate brownies.”
She bites her lip again, and I can see her brain working through the logistics. “But why would your uncle even consider me? He’s never even been inside this cafe.”
“He would get to know you if I brought you to the wedding. He’ll be at all the events. That’s a week of direct access to my uncle.”
Her eyes light up for a second before she shuts it down with a shake of her head. “I can’t afford the time off.”
Okay, that’s one thing I can fix.“What if I covered the shop’s expenses for that time?”
Her brow pulls into a crease. “Brendan, I can’t let you do that. I’d feel weird about it.”
“I wouldn’t,” I say quickly. “We’re friends, Scarlett, and that’s what friends do. It wouldn’t be fair of me to ask you for a favor and then expect you to take a financial hit.”
Maybe it is weird that I’m offering to pay for everything so she can take time away from the business. But what else did I expect? I’m the idiot who told my mother Scarlett was my date before actually asking her.
“I guess I could close the cafe for a week and change my supplier meeting.”
“If you were to come, I could introduce you to my uncle, give you plenty of opportunities to rub shoulders with him, and then put in a good word privately.”
She narrows her eyes like she can’t believe I’m being this nice. “So let me get this straight: you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend at the wedding. In exchange, I get access to your uncle and you convince him to hire me?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
A slow smile curves her mouth. “Wow, Brendan Marco finally asked me out. Only took you twelve years.”
I chuckle, even though this isn’t really asking her out. I’m asking her topretend.There’s a difference.
“So, I’ll agree to the wedding and let you know about the rest of the week,” she says, slipping her hands into her hoodie pockets. “But you know what that means? We need to tell our families. Your mom is going to freak. She looked like I had ruined her life when I told her I wasn’t coming.”
Right.My mom will want to rent a billboard announcing it to half of South Carolina. She can’t seem to help herself. As much as I love my family, I hate that this is all one big ruse—a performancethat will eventually end, with me regretting I ever asked her. Don’t get me wrong, I’m relieved she’ll keep Laila away. But relief doesn’t make the deception sit any easier. It’s still all one big lie. And the people it will hurt most are the same people who really matter.