Page 90 of Once Upon a Lie

I shake my head. “Sorry.”

She frowns quickly and dramatically but follows it up with a smile. “Boooo. But okay.” She rises up to touch her lips to mine. “Maybe you can stop back by after.”

“I’ll try.”

“Okaaay.”

“Oh. Hey, Shane,” Sunnie greets me as she comes through the swinging door that leads to the kitchen and startles at the sight of me. Honestly, I’m surprised to see her here today too.

“Hey, Sunnie. I didn’t know you’d be working today.”

Her responding smile is both teasing and knowing, and I can practically hear the girl talk flying off the walls the second I leave.

I’m such an asshole.

“It’s our monthly restock-and-chill day.” She laughs. “But don’t worry, we won’t work too hard. Gonna be a lot of other stuff going on, I bet.”

I try to smile before turning back to Teeny and touching my lips to hers one more time. “I’ll check in with you later.”

She nods, her sweet blue eyes alight with something I don’t even remotely deserve. I wish I did, though. I wish I did badly.

Making my way out of the kitchen, I offer one more wave to the two of them and then another to a surprised Cher as I move out from behind the counter. As soon as I’m out the door and onto the sidewalk, I scrub a hand down my face and blow a breath out in an effort not to scream.

I feel like the worst kind of human, and the walk from here to the park on Vanderbilt’s campus feels like an execution march.

My phone is full of unauthorized photos proving something important.

My body is full of her.

And those two things should never coexist.

I push up my sleeves, feeling hot enough to sweat even with temperatures in the high fifties. When my emotions get overwhelming, I have to stop, tuck into the nearest alley, and put my back to the brick of the building.

“Get it together,” I mutter. “This isn’t about you.”

Because it isn’t.

From everything I saw last night, and from the way Valentina invited me into her paperwork, I cannot, in any way, shape, or form, fathom that she has even the first fucking clue The Hole Story is involved in a bigger money-moving operation.

The receipts, the payroll summaries, the expense reports I was privy to last night proved that her shop is very much a small business. A successful one, sure, but small. Gross revenue hovers around four hundred thousand. And that’s before payroll and expenses.

Previous returns tied to The Hole Story may showcase millions moving through it on paper, but it isn’t coming through Valentina’s door.

She thinks her father is helping her by saving her the accountancy fees associated with having her bookkeeping done, when in fact, he’s laundering millions of dollars a year through her business.

None of that was in the paperwork she showed me last night—I looked. So, if anything, this meeting with Mike should serve as a way to clear her name.

That’s important.

It doesn’t absolve me of the boundaries I’ve crossed, but it’s something.

With one last deep breath and a quick glance at my watch, I get my shit together and head for the park. I’m due to arrive in ten minutes, and I know with a certainty I don’t want to test, Mike wouldn’t take kindly to my being late.

Mike’s already waiting when I sit down on the bench beside him, but I know I’m on time, so I don’t bother with apologies.

“What’ve you got?” he says without delay, looking down to play with the Rubik’s Cube in his hands, twisting and turning and rotating it constantly.

“All of her financials for the bagel shop. She was getting together her receipts last night to hand off to her father for her quarterly tax filing this morning. Leonidas Murphy picked them up first thing, but I got pictures of everything.”