Rating the Book Boyfriend (Book Boyfriend Builders)

15. Riggs

CHAPTER 15

Riggs

A s I drive away from Libby’s house, I try to decipher all the feelings that have been swirling in my head since she said our business is concluded. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt more… discontent.

While I haven’t been excited by my relationship with Lucinda for a long time, a dissatisfied feeling now hangs over my head. Like a storm cloud waiting to douse me with gloom.

Have I been in denial about my happiness for months? In all honesty, yes, but I’ve been pushing it all down and ignoring it. Like a disease you know you have, but if you avoid going to the doctor and getting the diagnosis, you can deny its existence.

But the thought of not seeing Libby again brings that disease to the surface and makes it impossible to ignore. The ache to get to know her better is palpable, a visceral thing that’s crawled inside me and refuses to leave.

I can’t deny I’m attracted to Liberty Hill. And I’m fully aware you can’t help finding another person attractive. What you can control is how you react to it. I’m not some cheating asshole. I’ve never been unfaithful to a woman, and I never would be.

That doesn’t assuage the guilt I feel though, the thought that I’m being mentally unfaithful. I find myself thinking about Libby all the time, wondering what she’s doing, wanting to send her a funny meme or joke I found. I’ve tried my best to stop it, but she just pops into my head at random times.

So I know what I have to do.

I need to break things off with Lucinda. We’re obviously not suited, and it’s not fair to either of us to carry on like this. Hell, we barely see each other anymore except when we go for our weekly visits to Nana’s.

Nana . My only weak spot in this decision. The Romeros and the Farinas always spend Thanksgiving together, and I don’t want to make things awkward, so I think I’ll try to get through tomorrow and then cautiously bring it up to her.

And then… so many maybes. Maybe Nana will understand if I explain that I'm unhappy. Maybe Libby will want to explore this thing between us. Maybe she’s feeling the same intense chemistry I’ve been trying so hard to suppress.

Even if I’m reading the signals wrong and Libby isn’t interested in me, I still don’t want to continue this charade with Lucinda. We don’t love each other, and I can’t fathom a pathway to those kinds of feelings with her.

And that’s why I have to at least try to broach the subject with Nana Viv. Even taking Libby out of the equation completely, I still have no desire to stay in this farce of a relationship. Liberty Hill was merely the catalyst that made me realize how much I’m having to force myself to be with Lucinda.

Silvia is right. Nana wouldn’t want this for me.

A honk snaps me out of my reverie, and I realize the traffic light has turned green. Pressing my foot on the accelerator, I drive through the intersection and head back to the office for my afternoon meeting.

“Mister Romero, Ms. Farina is here to see you.”

“Send her in, Mackenzie.”

Lucinda enters my office and closes the door behind her. She’s wearing a white dress, as usual, but today the neckline plunges much deeper than the conservative dresses she normally wears.

“Hi, honey,” she purrs, strolling in and perching on the edge of my desk.

“Hey, Lucinda. I was just about to go into a meeting, so I don’t have much time.”

“It’s ok,” she says amiably, leaning forward to give me a look at her boosted-up cleavage. I avert my eyes. “I wanted to invite you to come stay at my house tonight.” Her eyelashes flutter suggestively as she drags a long pink nail down the sleeve of my suit.

Is she fucking kidding me right now?

“I can’t,” I say, attempting to keep the coolness from my tone but failing as I pull my arm away from her touch. “I have to get the manicotti ready for Thanksgiving tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Her lips puff into a pout. “But I want to see you.”

You should have thought about that before you iced me out for the past three months.

“Mister Romero, you told me to remind you when the meeting is ten minutes out.” I smile and rise from my desk as Mackenzie unknowingly saves me through the intercom.

“Thanks, Mac,” I reply before walking to my door and opening it, a not-so-subtle invitation for Lucinda to vacate the premises. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow to go to Nana’s.”

Lucinda drags a hand across my chest as she sways by. “Okay, come over tonight if you change your mind. I got new panties.”

The thought of that doesn’t even earn a spark of desire from what lies beneath my zipper, and I know I’ve made the right decision. If everything goes well with Nana, I’m going to have a talk with Lucinda and end things. I feel lighter than I have in months as I walk down the corridor of our corporate office and toward the conference room.

Carrots. So. Many. Fucking. Carrots.

We’ve been discussing the vegetable for over an hour, and I legitimately hate my job right now.

Carrot sticks, baby carrots, organics, rainbow-colors, and what seems like a million different varieties that we’re considering for our stores. The previous hour was spent on goddamn potatoes, and I am fucking done with root vegetables today.

Silvia sits beside me, listening with a raptness that I don’t understand. My sister is the Chief Financial Officer for the corporation—a complete whiz with numbers—and I wish, not for the first time, that she was the firstborn. Taking over Mercato Industries would be right up her alley.

I, on the other hand, feel like I’m stuck in a rut here. My eyes wander to the window, to the Gulf waters beyond, and I long to be out there, smelling the salty air and feeling the gentle spray of droplets against my face.

“In conclusion…” Thank fuck, I think as Mildred, one of our produce experts, wraps up. “I think we should add Parano carrots to our stores because they are excellent for juicing, and that’s very popular these days.”

Leo Farina, Lucinda’s father, nods and makes a note in his leather-bound notebook. “Excellent. Thank you, Mildred.” He taps his fancy pen twice on the table and nods to me. “Riggs, what have you come up with for expansion options?”

I stand and walk to the other end of the table where a large screen has been lowered from the ceiling. Pulling up my PowerPoint presentation, I begin. When I get to the fifth slide, I can’t hold back my smile. It’s a spreadsheet, and it makes me think of Libby.

Once I reach the end, I summarize the facts and figures I’ve just laid out. “Since the Savannah store we opened two years ago is doing so well, I think it’s safe to say that expanding farther north into Georgia is a good bet. I recommend Atlanta.”

Nods from around the table boost me for my next recommendation, the one I feel most strongly about.

“For our second new location, I think we would do well between Mexico Beach and Port Saint Joe. Since we don’t have a store within two hours, our employees from here at our headquarters can’t even shop at Mercato. They have to shop with our competitors.”

More enthusiastic nods from everyone… except the president. Leo Farina frowns, but I press on. “From the figures I ran with Silvia, and after talking to the heads of marketing and construction, we think a smaller, market-style store would fit with the laid-back vibe and would pull customers from both towns.”

Leo flips through the paperwork in the folder I compiled and tilts his head back and forth. “I’m inclined to agree with Atlanta, but it’s a no on a local store. The population wouldn’t support it.”

“The numbers say otherwise,” I argue, and Silvia gives me a grin and a subtle thumbs up. “If you’ll look more closely, you can see that a small store would be very profitable?—”

“We don’t want small,” Leo insists. “We want to grow bigger.”

“Our flagship store in Tallahassee thrived when the families started it, and that was the starting point for this entire business,” I shoot back. “And it’s still the most profitable, despite being the smallest. People love shopping at an intimate family-owned business.”

Leo’s spine goes ramrod straight, and he narrows his eyes. “My answer is the same as when you brought up this idea a year ago, Romero. No.” Then he shuts his laptop with finality before glancing around the room. “Everyone have a good Thanksgiving, and I’ll see you on Monday.”

And he leaves the room. Goddammit.

The other ten people rise, and each of them acknowledges me with a nod or a pat on the shoulder as they pass.

“I like the idea, son,” Carlos Garcia, our head of marketing, says, firmly squeezing my bicep. “Going back to the basics. Every store we’ve built recently has gotten bigger and bigger, and I don’t like it. We seem to be getting away from what the founders wanted.”

“Thanks, Carlos,” I tell him, and he gives me a small smile before exiting, leaving me alone with my sister.

“Fuck Leo,” Silvia says loyally. “Once he retires and you take over, we’ll build that store.”

She wraps me in a solid hug, and I kiss the top of her head.

Lucinda is wearing a baby-pink dress that drapes dramatically off one shoulder when I pick her up on Thanksgiving morning. “You look nice,” I tell her out of habit.

“You too. Very handsome,” she says, stroking one hand down the lapel of my charcoal-gray suit jacket. I’m wearing matching pants, a white shirt, and no tie.

We make the short drive to Nana’s in silence. After pulling into the driveway, I grab the food from the backseat, open Lucinda’s door for her, and we walk side by side up the steps.

Normally, I would hold her hand, but I just can’t bring myself to touch her today, not knowing I’m hopefully going to break up with her this weekend. I honestly don’t think she’ll be too upset. Her interest in me has dwindled for almost half a year, except for yesterday. I still don’t know what the hell that was about.

Since my hands are full, she rings the doorbell before reaching into her Gucci bag and pulling something out. Then she stuffs it into my front pants pocket.

“Do it during dessert,” she hisses a second before the front door opens. “Vera, Happy Thanksgiving!” Lucinda greets my mother with enthusiasm.

Vera Romero looks beautiful in a beige Chanel dress that hits just below her knees. She’s tall and dark-haired, with only a few streaks of gray near her temples.

“Happy Thanksgiving, dear,” she says, before turning to me and beaming. “And how’s my handsome son?”

“I’m good, Mom.” I give her an affectionate kiss on the cheek. “I brought your favorite.”

My mother gives me a giddy smile. “Ohh, I do love your manicotti. Let me take that into the kitchen for you. Go say hi to everyone.” She removes the glass pan from my hands, and we make our way into the living room.

My father, Sergio, greets us and steps behind the black, leather-topped bar. He fancies himself as the designated bartender and pours us both a drink. Leo and I exchange cool nods, and Uncle Roberto, my dad’s younger brother, gives me a merry wave.

“Where’s Frank?” I ask him, referring to his only child.

“He’ll be along. I’m sure he’s running late because he has the little one by himself today.”

“Theresa’s working?” My cousin’s wife is an emergency room nurse, and she often has to work holidays.

“Yep. He was trying to get Allegra’s shoes on her feet when I talked to him about fifteen minutes ago.”

We chuckle. Frank and Theresa’s three-year-old is full of sass and energy. Sticking my hand in my pocket, I frown when I remember Lucinda putting something in there on the porch. It seems to be a small square wrapped with paper.

“I need to run to the bathroom,” I say as Dad fires up the blender. I exit to the hallway and walk quickly to the powder room two doors down.

“What is this?” I whisper, pulling the object from my pocket. A sheet of computer paper is folded around… what the fuck?

Setting my drink and the paper on the vanity, I open the velvet box to find the biggest diamond ring I’ve ever seen. An engagement ring, to be exact.

“She’s got to be fucking kidding me,” I mutter as my mind tries to process. I slug back the rest of my bourbon before picking up the paper and reading the typed words.

HOLIDAY PROPOSAL

As soon as dessert is served, get down on one knee with our families surrounding us. Say the following:

My dearest Lucinda, from the very first time I saw you, I knew you were the one for me. Your beauty is indescribable, but your warm heart is what captured my own. The love I have for you burns from within my soul, and I can’t wait to spend my life with you. I’ll strive every day to make you the happiest?—

My eyes dart from side to side, and I stop reading about halfway down the page, and a boulder of alarm sits heavy in my gut.

Lucinda expects me to propose to her.

Today.

And she wrote me a fucking script.