Imperfectly Delicious (Imperfect Series #6) - Mary Frame Page 0,68

“Should we tell Oliver first? My inclination is to wait until it’s more or less a done deal.”

Carson considers the question for a second and then dips his head. “I agree. It is probably better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission he probably won’t give, anyway.”

“Make the call.”

He walks out to his desk and excitement thrums through me. I can’t wait to tell Scarlett, but I need to hold off until I make sure it can actually work. There are a few pieces that still need to be tied together, and Oliver is one of them.

A few minutes later, Carson is at the door. “Boss? We got a little problem.”

“What is it?”

“I talked to Roger and, well, the deal was already done.”

My face goes slack. “How is that possible?”

“I guess Oliver—”

“Get him on the phone,” I bark. “Now.”

I take a deep breath. Dammit. I should have known Oliver would go behind my back. There’s no way it could be finalized yet, though. I haven’t signed any papers and we’re in this together and he wouldn’t go that far. Would he?

“I got Oliver.”

I put it on speaker and he immediately starts talking. “Before you say anything, you’re welcome.”

“For what?”

“Marie signed your divorce papers. I had them couriered over to your attorney this morning.”

“That’s…thank you, but—”

“And I got Crawford and Company to sell that little piece of real estate we’ve been waiting on, so we can sign in two weeks and we can move forward with our plans.”

I have to tread carefully, here. “That’s great, Oliver, and I have some ideas for what we could do with the lot. You know how we had talked about guest chef nights? We could expand the concept outdoors with various food trucks. Give them a time slot to rent, it will generate additional income streams and we’ll give our customers a food experience with real variety.”

He’s quiet for a second and then, “That’s a great idea.”

I let out a breath.

“I love it. Now you just have to get rid of the cupcake lady.”

So close.

“About that—"

“Guy.” His voice is as sharp as my best blade. “If you open your mouth and tell me you’re letting her stay there, you’ve lost it. This idea could work, but if she moves, we could fit more variety in there and make twice as much. If you tell me you’re changing all of our plans simply because you’re fucking the cupcake woman, I don’t care how cute she is, you’ve been compromised and this whole thing will be a disaster.” His voice escalates as he speaks.

I think quickly. This is classic Oliver. He’ll huff and puff and then later he’ll think about it; I’ll give him more reasons to think about it, and I’ll eventually talk him down to my side. It just might not be as easy as I’d like. But when has anything in my life been easy?

“Fine. It’s not important. Just do what you need to, get the deal done, and we’ll talk after.”

I hang up right as there is a tap at the door.

It’s Scarlett. “How could you?”

Chapter Twenty

If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world. ―J.R.R. Tolkien

Scarlett

What started out as the best day in my life, sure turned into a shit show real quick.

It started early. We had barely started serving the lunch crowd when Fred called out to me.

“Scarlett, someone is here to see you.”

“Is it Guy?”

“Nope.”

I move toward her to glance out the order window.

It’s definitely not Guy. It’s Marie.

She’s wearing big sunglasses and a large fur coat.

“I’ll meet you in the back.” I point.

She nods and her heels clickety clack to the back of the truck.

“You know the diva?” Fred asks.

“It’s Guy’s ex.”

Her lips twist. “Yikes.”

“Something like that.”

I brace myself, and then open the back door and step out onto the sidewalk. “Can I help you?”

“Look, I know I was a total bitch the other night, but I wanted to warn you.”

Oh boy. I relax a little. This is classic school yard nonsense. Guy was her shiny toy she didn’t want, but now that someone else has him and he’s happy, she wants the toy back.

I decide right away I won’t believe anything she says, no matter how convincing she is.

“Oh?” I feign interest.

“I thought you should know, from one woman to another. He acts like he’s for real, but he’s a user. All men are. He always says I’m manipulative, and I guess I can be, but he’s the