Eli climbed the step stool once more and resumed hanging lights. This time, however, he caught himself smiling at the glass, at his own faint reflection.
He didn’t know what would happen next. He wasn’t even sure hewantedto know. But he couldn’t deny it anymore.
Something had shifted.
Something small and warm and terrifying.
And as he hung another strand of lights, he whispered to himself:
“It’s just for the season.”
But evenhedidn’t believe it.
Chapter Five
Eli hadn’t meantto stay.
He’d packed for a long Thanksgiving weekend, three days, maybe four at the most, with just enough clothing to look passably human and not enough to commit to anything more permanent. But Saturday morning found him at Aileen’s kitchen table with a mug of coffee, staring at her as though she’d requested a kidney.
“A month?” he repeated. “You were being serious? What happened to a couple of weeks?”
Aileen was icing cinnamon rolls and acting as if this was a normal conversation and not a logistical earthquake. “I need help through the season. You said yes.”
“I didn’t say yes,” Eli retorted. “You steamrolled me.”
“But youlovebeing steamrolled,” she said. “It gives your life structure.”
He glared at her over the rim of his mug. “You’ve been talking to my therapist again.”
“Can’t. HIPAA says so. But Iamyour older sister, which is basically the same thing.”
He sighed and rubbed his eyes. The kitchen smelled like sugar and cinnamon and the comfort of a hundred childhood mornings. The familiarity made him feel both safe and cornered.
“It isn’t as easy as that,” he protested. “I’ve got my place. My stuff. My?—”
“Depression couch?” she offered.
“My life,” he said pointedly.
She gave him a look. “Didn’t you tell me virtually all your design work is digital these days? So that means your life is on a laptop and a phone, both of which you can bring here. And you did say work was slow.”
“It is,” he admitted, wincing. “That doesn’t mean I can abandon it.”
“You’re not abandoning anything.” She set down the icing bag and leaned against the counter. “You’re taking a break in a town that loves you. I need the help. You need the change. It’s not that deep.”
He opened his mouth.
She talked over him, as only a big sister could. “Do you have any in-person meetings in the next month?”
“No.”
“Do your clients care if your emails are sent from Boston or Mapleford?”
“No, but?—”
“Does your apartment get sad if you’re not there to stare at the wall?”
He huffed a laugh despite himself. “I’m pretty sure it’s sad either way.”
