“Upset. I’m upset,” she clarifies, but I can hear it in her tone and read between the lines—the unbearable hurt of missing her parents.
When I glance at her, she’s rubbing the leg she broke during the accident where they died. And if I could, I would take on the pain she’s trying to hide as my own. I reach out for her hand and squeeze it. It’s a promise that we’ll get through this day.
We always do.
Chapter Two
Atzi
I don’t regret messaging Heath about my pathetic dating life. Sure, he laughed at my expense and was able to gloat that he was right. Okay, he didn’t exactly say the “I told you so,” out loud. But knowing him, he was thinking it.
That’s not important, what matters is that Heathcliff Spearman has a way of making me feel better—even during my worst days—without even trying.
He understands that some days I just need tortilla soup, tacos, and an unlimited supply of wine. He almost makes me forget I’m alone and I hate it.
Not that I’d admit that to anyone.
No one, not even Heath, would believe me if I confessed how lonely and sad I feel.
Everyone assumes that I have everything a person can desire. I have family and friends. A successful business. A career I love, and one most people can only dream of having. Plus, I have millions of people following me on social media who claim to adore me.
Although that’s just what people see from the outside.
The business isn’t exactly mine. My grandfather started Lavigne Chocolatier. Dad opened a branch in San Francisco and then built a factory so we could distribute our brand around the world. I’m just continuing the legacy I inherited. Being the CEO of an international brand is overwhelming and hard. Too hard.
My passion is art. I adore sculpting. Chocolate is my medium—you can say it’s in my blood—so I sculpt chocolate to express myself. Well, I needed to make use of the surplus of chocolate I had around. Why not make art with it? Okay, it wasn’t exactly a problem for Lavigne Chocolatier, but I like to use the excess as an excuse as to why I focus on making chocolate sculptures more than using any other material.
My social media followers are amazing, but how can they love me when they’ve never met me?
They know the woman who posts videos. She’s me, but not exactly me. The Atzi they think they know smiles, jokes around, and is happy all the time. Too happy. When the camera is off, things are different. Most days, I’m dealing with anxiety and depression, they just don’t know it.
Then there’s my family. I love them all, but since my parents died, I’m not as close to them because they live in other states and abroad. Having a relationship with them via social media and video calls isn’t as fulfilling as having them nearby.
My friends have their own lives, even Heathcliff Spearman.
I’m waiting on the day for Heath to announce he was accepted for a fellowship. Soon enough, he’ll be packing his things and leaving for New York or Baltimore. He’s about to embark on his dream and probably fall in love.
He’ll be too busy with his new life and I, Atzi, won’t be a part of it. Maybe I should just move to France and start a new life too. But I can’t. Even though I travel often, there is no way I can leave Lavigne Chocolatier unattended for long periods of time.
Maybe I could just move the factory to France? That’s where the family business started anyway.
But that still leaves the problem of my love life. That I can’t find love. Why is it so hard for me?
More so when there’s a time limit. I need to find it within the next thirty days. I glance at Heath, grabbing my glass of wine and taking a sip, swallowing down the guilt I feel for keeping this from him. We’ve been eating in comfortable silence. The calm his presence always exudes brings me some peace and makes the sad thoughts disappear.
The only thing on my mind is the little problem I have to fix ASAP.
“What are you hiding from me, Atzi Maëlie Rivera-Lavigne?” I almost jolt when he says my full name with that husky, sexy voice of his.
See, this guy wouldn’t have any trouble getting a woman. He is the whole package. Six foot four, broad chest, corded arms. Then there’s his face. Angular, chiseled jawline complemented by a sexy mouth and dark eyes with a stare that penetrates so deep, at times, they seem to be looking directly into my soul. Not to mention he’s also a doctor.
Women fall at his feet, hoping he’ll throw them a line and make them come fast and hard. I don’t believe he’s not a womanizer like Ben. Heath is discreet and doesn’t like long-term relationships. Plus, he hates to socialize. He’s a hot-as-fuck specimen with the soul of a grumpy old man.
“Wow, you went for it, you full-named me, and I’m surprised you pronounced all of them correctly.”
He cocks an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Are you finally going to tell me what happened with the asshole?”
I smile. He thinks he’s so smart and astute. The guy prides himself on knowing everything. Heath swears he can read everyone and catch lies. I could prove him wrong, but I’d have to confess a few of my own lies if I did.
“We should’ve gone to my place so I could’ve enjoyed these chocolate cupcakes on the couch.” Hoping to distract him with my non-answer.
He snorts. “When was the last time you cleaned your studio?”
I finish my wine and pour myself another glass. “Last night.”
He releases a small laugh. “I’m not talking about the kitchen.”
“Oh, the rest?” I wave a hand as if it doesn’t matter.
“Was it when I sent Trudy, my house cleaner?” He mentions his amazing housekeeper. I adore her, except when she organizes my chaos and I can’t find shit for weeks.
“Probably.”
“Can I just send her weekly?”
I begin to clear the dishes from the table. “No. I’ll do it.”
“When?”
“When I have time?” Okay, I should sound a little more confident about myself. If I don’t, he’ll send Trudy, who’ll reorganize my house again. It took me weeks to put it back the way I like it.
“Between the factory, the shop, and your sculptures, that’s never going to happen.” Heath’s challenging stare makes me feel uneasy.
“I’ll get organized.” I grab his plate, trying to avoid him.
He laughs. “That’s a good one. Why don’t you just let me do it for you?”
“Hey, I can take care of myself.” And I sound a little too defensive, but no one could blame me.
If there’s something I like, it’s my independence. Getting used to people and then losing them is jarring. It happened to me three times. Once with my parents, the second with my grandfather, and the third with my aunt. The biggest lesson I’ve learned is you can only count on yourself.
“Of course you can, but I’d feel better if you let me do it,” he offers.
And I know that’s true. He loves to take care of everyone, which is why he’s a great doctor. But I don’t want to be another burden for him.
Heath and I have been best friends for years. It happened the summer after he lost his dad, and I lost my parents. From the first moment we met, we just clicked. We get along perfectly. We agree on most things, except when it comes to how I live my life.