Page 171 of Falling for the Grumpiest Protector

"What's happened?"

"Nothing happened. That's the problem. Everything is happening."

"That clears it up."

"The neighboring space."

I close my eyes. Of course. "The landlord wants an answer Tuesday."

“I thought you got us through next Friday.”

“I did. He gave us more time than I asked for. Now someone else has made an offer.”

I straighten. "What kind of offer?"

"Serious enough that he moved the deadline."

My mind shifts before I can stop it. Square footage. Lease terms. Build-out. Kitchen expansion. Additional seating. The private dining room we've talked about for almost two years.

"How long do we have?"

"Tuesday afternoon."

"That's ridiculous."

"Agreed."

"And you're calling me at eight seventeen on a Sunday."

"I've been calling you for days."

I wince. He doesn't need to say anything else. He's right. I've answered texts. Returned calls when I could. Listened to numbers. Asked questions. But I haven't given him what he's been asking me for. A decision.

"What do you think?" I ask.

There's a pause. "You know what I think."

"I want you to say it."

"I think we've been waiting for this space since the day we opened. I think we can afford it. I think the numbers support it. And I think if we let it go because you're afraid to make a decision, you're going to regret it."

The words land harder than I want them to. "I'm not afraid."

"Maddy."

I look through the kitchen window. Oakridge is dark beyond the glass. Quiet. Somewhere across town, Javier is probably at the cottage with Atlas. Maybe thinking about Diego. Maybe not thinking at all for once. I hope he isn't.

"I need to see everything," I say.

"I sent it."

"When?"

"Ten minutes ago."

I open my laptop on the counter. The email is already there. Lease proposal. Updated projections. Contractor estimate. Revised floor plan. Julian knows me too well.

"You've been busy."