Perfect Match Enemies to lovers romance - Leia Stone Page 0,21

me an annoyed expression. “I dunno, like a day. I just gotta talk to my Gran and then my real estate agent is coming by tomorrow night.”

Panic gripped me. I couldn’t just let him lose the bar and leave him a smoking, drinking mess with no business. Why did he need to talk to his Gran? Did she co-own the place?

“Give me seven days,” I begged. “Give me seven days and I’ll prove we can save this place. It could be amazing.”

I held out my hand for him to shake and he just stared at it like it was made of fire. “We?” He laughed.

I nodded. “I’ll help you every step of the way. I’ll craft a new menu, talk to vendors to get some craft beer. Live music would really—”

“Are you insane?” His eyes bugged. “I said no. I gotta accept the offer soon or they’ll walk.”

“Seven days!” I shouted, ignoring him as I turned, leaving the veggies on the counter and walking back to my car.

“Woman! Did you hear me? I said no. Where are you going?” he screamed after me.

“To save your motherfucking bar!” I roared back over my shoulder.

I’d been so lost without Colin. This project was exactly what I needed. A purpose.

You know the best part about Nashville? It’s full of starving musicians, hungry for their big break.

So I had an idea. A wild idea.

I went to the printer shop and had flyers made up, advertising that Wayne’s Place was looking for a new headlining act to play nightly. That we were hosting a showcase audition and the crowd would vote. Then, on a whim, I typed two very dangerous words.

Free Beer.

Quickly adding *While supplies last, in fine print.

Ashton was going to kill me, but if he was selling the place anyway, he’d need to get rid of all those bottles, right? I’d set the date for Saturday night, which gave me five days to work on the menu and other things.

I’d officially started charging things to my credit card. One thousand flyers wasn’t cheap, nor were the ten rolls of duct tape I got to tape them up around the city.

It was at about 1 p.m., when I’d dropped off my last stack of flyers at a local hookah joint, that I admitted to myself I was probably losing my mind a little.

This wasn’t healthy. I felt myself unraveling with each step I took toward trying to save this bar.

Saving Ashton, saving this bar, it wouldn’t bring Colin back.

I was too chickenshit to call my therapist, knowing he would absolutely tell me to fly home, or suggest putting me on meds or something.

Instead, I looked up a local grief support meeting and sighed in relief when I saw there was one in thirty minutes not far from the bar. That would give me time to make the meeting and then quickly shower before the bar opened today at 3 p.m.

Grief support group was my lifeline after Colin. There was nothing like having a roomful of people who knew exactly what you were going through. Personal therapy had helped, but I’d only really healed once I started going to group.

Going today might put things back into perspective for me and help me find my way out of this mess I’d created. Because … clearly … I had more healing to do.

I got a little lost finding my way. I knew I would have to return my rental car soon and needed to learn the lay of the city if I was going to stay here.

Was I going to stay here?

My mind was such a jumbled mess, I was five minutes late, weaving in and out of the hallways trying to find suite number 304.

The door was open and I was going to slip inside and sit down when I heard a familiar voice.

“Yesterday was a year ago that I lost her,” Ashton said, and goosebumps broke out on my arms. I stood there, half in the doorway, half out, peering beyond the support column that hid his face from me.

“Most days I don’t know what the point in living is. I wish I hadn’t gotten this heart.” His voice cracked. “I wish they could have given it to her.”

Holy shit. Holy, holy, fucking shit.

I suddenly felt like this was a huge violation of privacy. Group was only beneficial because no one knew who the fuck you were, and you could spill your guts without fear of ever seeing them outside these four walls. I stepped