Page 52 of Friends That Heal Us
After preparing him a bowl of tomato soup, we both sit down and dig in.
He moans the second the spoon hits his mouth. “Oh, this is good. Why have I never had your tomato soup before?”
I shrug my shoulders, taking a sip of my soup. “I don’t know.”
“So I have something I want to tell you.”
My brows rise in concern. “Oh no. What?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing bad. I went to ask the bank what I would need in order to get that bakery you were talking about.”
My mouth parts. “What!”
He shifts his weight as he takes a bite of his grilled cheese. “If you’re still interested in it?” he asks, mouth half full as if this is a normal conversation to have.
“Wait. What? Why?”
“Because I know how worried you are about Zayn trying to take it away from you. If it’s under my name, he can’t.”
My lips press together trying to see if he’s serious or not. “What did the bank say?”
“I can use my shop as collateral.” He says it like it’s nothing.
I shake my head. “No. I can’t have you do that.”
“Why?” he asks, brows drawing together as he wipes his mouth with a napkin.
“That’s your shop. That’s something you built. What if something goes wrong?”
“Nothing will go wrong.”
“How do you know that?”
He meets my gaze. “Because I believe in you. And from everything I’ve tasted that you’ve made, I know nothing will go wrong.”
He’s sitting there, eyes steady on me like he means every word. I take a second to process his words. No one has told me they believe in me in a long time. My chest tightens, overwhelmed by him. By the weight of his kindness and the way his generosity catches me off guard.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure.” He sets down his spoon. “Nothing is set in stone yet. We still need to check out the place to make sure everything looks good.”
My throat goes tight, and I have to look away for a second before my emotions give me away. No one’s fought for my dreams before. And before this, I never thought opening a bakery was my dream. Sure, it crossed my mind, but having him believe in me makes me want it even more. For the first time in a long time, I feel that I am believed, and it’s enough to make me believe in myself.
“Hi, I’m Carol,” she says, reaching out her hand.
“Hi, I’m Violet,” I respond, shaking her hand. After Ezra’s conversation last night about helping me get this bakery, I called the realtor and was able to schedule something for today to check it out.
I’m excited and nervous all at once, and I know my voice shows it. It’s the same feeling when I quit my nine-to-five to do baking full-time. It was the best decision I made, but it was one that was hard to finally make. I know this is a great business move for me, but once again it’s hard to finally go forward with it.
“Hi, I’m Ezra.” They shake each other’s hands.
Carol turns her attention to the lock; her keys jiggle as she unlocks the door. She steps into the place first, holding the door open for us.
I step inside and take in the whole place. Now that I’m inside, I notice the dust lying on the counters, and that it’s made the glass on the display cases cloudy. The chalkboard has white smudges that look like someone left after wiping off the chalk. The air in here is a little stale, probably from the lack of airflow.
“As you can see, the owner left everything here,” she announces, pointing around the front area where tables andchairs line up against the walls. “If we look in the back…” She takes a few steps to lead us in the back. “She left all the equipment as well.”
I look at all the necessary equipment I would need to run this bakery. “Why did she leave everything?” I ask.
