Maggie looks at the food, then at me, and any remaining blood drains from her face. “Sorry.” She grips the edge of the counter and stands up. “Need to go back to bed for a bit.”
Jim chuckles affectionately and shovels a forkful into his mouth.
My heart leaps at the noise of the doorbell. Finally, the sound I’ve been waiting for. My stomach trembles with nervous anticipation as I pick up the blue tin. “That’ll be my car. Got to run.”
Uncle Jim puts down his fork and stands to shake my hand. “I’m happy you decided not to take that guy’s money.” He squeezes my arm with his other hand. “Sounded like an absolute prick.”
He sits down and picks up his fork. “Great eggs.”
I give Maggie a quick peck on the cheek. “I’m borrowing this.” I hold up the tin.
She smiles and pulls me into a tight hug. “Go get that girl.”
“That’s the plan,” I tell her as I snatch up my bag from the floor. “If she’ll have me.”
I trot out of the kitchen, my pulse pounding as much with fear as excitement. What if Summer won’t forgive me?
With a weaker than usual voice, Maggie calls, “And if I find out who stubbed out a cigar in my Boston fern, they’re in big trouble.”
30
SUMMER
Elsa lets out a long sigh and pushes her feet against me, stretching her legs till she’s taking up the rest of the sofa. She’s still passed out after our marathon walk this morning. We were out for so long I lost track of time, and she was ready to come home before I was. I could have walked all day, mainly because it’s something to keep me busy that doesn’t require thought.
It’s beautiful out there—the sky is a crisp, clear blue after last night’s storm, and it’s much milder now. A lot of the snow has already turned to slush, making it easier to get around, and what remains glints prettily in the sun.
I should fetch in some more logs, but I’m suddenly as limp as a shriveled balloon. I finally nodded off after watching the movie, so probably at about six a.m., only for Elsa to wake me up a couple of hours later, asking to go out.
I lie on my side, squeezing between her and the back of the sofa, and wrap my arms around her.
I’ll allow myself today to give in to the ache consuming my stomach and chest, and the heavy rock sitting in my throat. Then tomorrow, it’s full steam ahead back to the real world.
These last few days consumed by the good and bad of Owen have left me behind on two orders. I’m never behind on orders. And I still need to figure out the whole sock elastication thing.
The lingering aroma of Maggie’s perfume on Elsa’s fur shoots my mind back to the last time I saw Owen’s face. Maybe the reason he looked shocked as I made my way over to him, was because he saw Archie talking to me, and he dreaded what he might say. Well, that’s a hazard of going into business with an assholey jerk. And if that’s what Owen wants to do, he’s not the person I fell for anyway.
I screw up my sore eyes and bury my face in Elsa. This is where I belong. And boy, oh boy, am I worn out now. Lack of sleep, an enormous walk, and a hefty dose of heartache and sobbing are an exhausting combination.
But a good, solid rest might now be a real possibility. Maybe I’ll let myself drift off for just a little while.
I snuggle Elsa tight.
My mind finally settles.
My breath slows.
Everything behind my eyes goes hazy.
My whole bodyweight sinks into Elsa and the cushions, and I start the slow drift along that delicious, dizzying path to slumber.
Suddenly, pulse racing, I bolt upright.
I bash into Elsa, and she jumps too.
My heart thuds from the shock of being jolted from semiconsciousness.
Had I fallen asleep? Did I dream that noise?
