“June, is it just the linens? What else can we help with?” Liam reaches to touch her shoulder but she shrugs away from him.
“Nothing. I’ve got it. Once this is done I’ll just have to remake the stupid ski bracket because I haven’t found a replacement and I can’t use a software for it because I need to appease the rich idiots and give them the illusion of winning.”
“Next year, I’ll be here already and you can catch me up on things so I can fix them. That way you can focus on more important stuff. This can be my problem.”
“Yeah, you and dad have made that very clear, but this isn’t for you to swoop in and fix at the eleventh hour. If it’s a problem, it’s my problem.”
“June,” Liam starts.
“No,” Juniper bites out as she fishes for her keys. With them in hand she slams the car doors closed and takes a deep breath. When she speaks again, most of the fire has left her voice. “Thanks for your help, Liam, but I’m fine.”
Liam and I step to the side so we aren’t in the way as the SUV zips out of the alley and onto the street.
“I hope someone gets her to the spa soon cause all that stress can’t be healthy,” I mutter. Suspicion prickles at the back of my mind. Something is clearly off between these two. Unfortunately, though, I’m not a mind reader and don’t want to assume anything yet.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about. She’s doing too much and is going to make herself sick, or get hurt.”
“I mean there is one way you could ease some of that stress.”
“Henri.” He sighs.
“Liam.” I raise a brow, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Maybe. I just need her to cool down before I suggest another way to take the spotlight from her. For now, let’s bring the car around and take care of this.”
As it turns out, there are only three tubs left. Any more and we probably wouldn’t have been able to haul the rest. Liam chats a little with the shop owner while the man starts to close up his business, no doubt making a connection that will be useful in years to come.
It’s a funny thing, seeing the threads of Liam’s future—one that I won’t be in. Next year, these two will likely talk about similar things while I’ll be somewhere else entirely. My phone chiming in my pocket saves me from the wash of melancholy thoughts.
A tiny bell chimes overhead as I push out of the shop to take the call. Speakers positioned around the square spill out a crackling jazz arrangement of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” into the brisk air.
“Hey, did your present arrive? It should be in today. I’m not telling you what it is, but keep a look out so Ms. Cooper doesn’t snag it,” I tell Iris. Though our apartment is pretty great, Ms. Cooper in 3C has a tendency to grab extra mail “on accident.” She’ll return it if you ask, but it’s always easiest to get there first.
“Not yet, but I’ll stay vigilant. Last time I had to retrieve a package, she held me hostage with cookies and cats for two hours. So, how is it? I haven’t heard from you since you got there,” Iris says.
I tug my hat down further on my ears as the wind cuts by. “You can just say you missed me.”
“No, I’m just nosey. So, have you boned yet?”
“Iris,” I hiss.
“What do you prefer? Boinking? Bedroom rodeo? Cave diving?”
“I might prefer to stuff cotton in my ears if you continue.” I roll my eyes and kick at a snow drift that’s swallowed a section of the curb.
“Fine. But I’m not hearing a ‘no’ come out of your mouth.”
“That’s umm . . . Because.”
“No fucking way. I wasn’t serious!” She sounds as if I’ve told her I just won the lottery. Honestly, I kind of have. Empathetic, caring, hot men like Liam aren’t exactly falling from the sky.
“Yes, you were.”
“Okay, fine. But that’s because I’m a romantic and you’re perpetually repressed and avoidant.”
“I’m not . . .” Yeah, fine she’s right. “That doesn’t matter.”
“I can’t wait for you to have ridiculously cute freckled babies.”
