So much for 2-4 inches, I guess.
Gabe
They’re saying it’ll be more like 18 by the time this is all over. I don’t want her driving in this. Can she crash at the loft tonight until the roads are clear?
I wince a little at the way Gabe is going all father-figure over Liv, like she’s not twenty-five years old and capable of making her own plans. I know how much she would hate that even as I consider how much I like the idea of her sleeping in the guest room right downstairs from me. Being alone with her. At night. In a snowstorm.
Get your brain out of the gutter, dude.
Me
I’ll ask her. She’s welcome to stay.
Gabe
Thanks, Bry. We gaming this weekend?
I smile, thinking of my gaming nights with Gabe. Out of all of our friends, we’re the only ones who like video games, so we made it a kind of weekly tradition on Sunday nights. Director of Football Operations for an NFL team means that, during the season, I’m running around from before the sun rises until well after it sets on Sundays, and hanging with Gabe has been my favorite way to unwind at the end of those very long days. Just two former founders nerding out overFortnitelike we’re eighteen again. And if Olivia happens to stop by to see Gabe’s kids while I’m there? Well, on those nights I feel like I’ve won the lottery.
Me
You know it.
Gabe
Awesome, see you then. And thanks again.
Me
No thanks necessary, seriously.
I have the thought that I should be thanking him as I slip my phone into my pocket and consider how to approach this with Olivia. She can be prickly when she thinks someone is trying to make decisions for her, and I really don’t want her to think of me as one of the people who do that.
I want her to think of me asmore.
I always have.
Even if my best friend would probably hate me for it.
Shaking off the thought, I tell the assistant manager to send everyone home early and close up, then walk over to Liv’s table. I slide into the chair across the table from her, smiling a little when she doesn’t react, entirely lost in whatever’s on her screen. “Am I remembering right that snowstorms are your favorite?”
Liv’s head jerks up, and she lets out a breath when she sees it’s me. “Sorry,” she says a little sheepishly. “My head was somewhere else. What did you say?”
Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on the table, ignoring the littlethumpin my chest I always get when she looks at me. “What were you working on?”
She shrugs, closing her laptop and leaning back. “It started as the menu for the Kids Play gala in a couple of weeks, but then it devolved into packing lists for Italy, finalizing stuff for the flat I’m renting, and the million other details that suddenly become necessary when you’re spending six months abroad. But did you ask me a question?”
I swallow down the urge to beg her not to go like a freaking weirdo and focus on tonight. “I asked if snowstorms are still your favorite. I remember a couple of winters ago when you first moved to Pittsburgh, you laid in Gabe’s backyard like a lunatic for an hour the first time it snowed.”
She beams at me, her entire face lighting up, and I have to stop myself from rubbing a hand over my chest because Jesus, that smile. “Yes! I think it’s because I lived in San Francisco for my first eighteen years where the weather pretty much never changes. I’ve been east for seven years, but the novelty of snow still hasn’t worn off.” She leans back in her chair, rolling her head from side to side like her neck is stiff from sitting hunched over for the last couple of hours, flashing me that grin again. “I don’t think it ever will. I still like to lay in the backyard like a lunatic when it snows.”
“Same. Even though I grew up in Maryland where it snows at least once a year, I still love it. Come on,” I say, holding out a hand to her.
She eyes my hand warily. “Come on where?”
I tip my head to the back of the bar and the stairs up to the loft. “I want to show you something.”
She studies me for a second, like she’s trying to figure me out, then shrugs, putting her hand in mine. The second our palms slide together, a buzz of electricity hums from the place our skin touches. I curl my hand around hers and look up at her. She eyes me consideringly, a question in her gaze that makes me sure she felt the same thing I did, and I don’t hate that at all. “Okay, lead the way, mystery man.”
