Page 60 of Bean

“No, just…oh shit.” She set her coffee down and grabbed my hand. “You’re in love.”

“No, I’m not! Don’t be ridiculous.” But the word pierced my chest. It was one of the many words I’d been avoiding for a while now. Still, it was far too soon for that, wasn’t it?

And even if I was in love, it wouldn’t matter. Bean wasn’t mine to have.He was just sort of mine for now.

“Jarek…”

“I’m serious. It’s not like that, okay? We’re friends, and we’re having fun. I like him,” I admitted, pulling my hand away and closing it into a tight fist. “But that is all it is.”

“I see.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

Ivy sighed and shook her head. “I doubt that, babe. You’ve always been kind of a fool with your heart—which is part of your charm. But I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I know what I’m doing,” I repeated, mainly to convince myself. It was getting harder and harder to watch Bean leave every time he came over. It was harder and harder not to invite him to stay more often or to leave bits and pieces of himself around my place.

And it would be worse when I moved, which was coming up soon. Andrei had texted me with the timeline now that I’dreplaced my working hands with a pile of cash, and the date had moved from a year to just a couple of months.

When it was my place—when I made myself a home there, it would be damn near impossible not to want Bean to leave his mark.

But that was my problem, not his.

“Oh, this is going to be a disaster,” Ivy said. She stood and grabbed her coffee. “You know I’ll be here for you, right? When it all goes to hell?”

“I know.”

“But for what it’s worth, I hope it does work out. He makes you smile in a way I’ve never seen before. I know you don’t buy my woo-woo bullshit, but I’m pretty sure that has to mean something.”

I didn’t let her words get to me. I couldn’t. Hope had no place here. The only thing I was allowed to embrace was the reality of our situation: that this was temporary, and what I had now was all I was ever going to get.

Bean was waiting for me outside the bar in the employee parking lot. He looked worse than the last time I’d seen him—dark circles under his eyes and his mouth drawn down at the corners. He gave me a sweet, lingering kiss when he slipped into the car, but he was quiet the whole drive back to my place.

“Do you want to cancel and do this another night?” I asked as I turned the corner onto the rental’s street.

Bean blinked, then frowned in confusion. “What?”

“The cooking lesson?”

He licked his lips slowly. “Oh. We’re cooking.”

“Oh, sunshine, we?—”

“No,” Bean said in a rush. “No, it’s fine.”

“Look, I don’t know if this is such a good idea if you’re?—”

“Don’t patronize me,” he interrupted again, his tone like I’d never heard it before. I reared back. “I’m not a child.”

“I wasn’t implying that, okay,” I said. We fell quiet until I pulled into the driveway and put the car in Park. I didn’t move yet, and neither did he. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I just noticed you look tired and seem off.”

“Yeah, well, you try getting blown up and having your brains scrambled and tell me you’re not off sometimes.”

I knew this wasn’t his fault. He’d warned me mood swings and personality shifts would happen from time to time, but I had no idea how to navigate it. I didn’t want him to be here if he’d rather be somewhere else, but I had a feeling telling him that would only set him off again.

“I took chicken out,” I said softly.

He blinked. “For what?”