“We all agree with her!” Papa calls from what sounds like the kitchen. “Your avoidance tactics are transparent and frankly beneath you!”
“Thanks, Papa. Love the support.”
“You’re welcome! Now stop running from that lovely event planner!”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. This is what I get for having a close family. Zero privacy and constant unsolicited opinions about my love life.
“I’m not running from anyone.”
“You literally ran out the back door of Millie’s Diner last week when you saw her coming.” Bea’s voice is gleeful now. “River told me. Said you knocked over a busboy.”
“I did not knock him over. He stumbled. There’s a difference.”
“Ben.” Her voice softens slightly, which is somehow worse than the teasing. “What’s going on? Really? Because this isn’t like you. You’re usually the first one to sign up for stuff like this.”
I watch the snow fall, fat flakes drifting down and starting to stick to the ground. Milo and Elijah should be here any minute with the chairs Elijah made for my table.
“I just don’t want to do it,” I say finally. “Can’t that be enough?”
“No. Because your voice is doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“That thing where you’re lying and you know you’re lying but you’re going to keep lying anyway.”
Damn. She got that line from me.
“Look, I gotta go. Milo’s bringing my chairs?—”
“This isn’t over, Benjamin Wilson.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Beatrice.”
“I hate when you call me that.”
“I know. Love you, bye!”
I hang up before she can get another word in and toss my phone on the couch. Through the window, I can see Elijah’s truck turning onto my road, Milo’s right behind him.
Good timing. I was running out of deflection tactics.
The snow is coming down harderby the time we get the first two chairs off the truck.
“You sure this is all going to fit?” Milo eyes my cabin with obvious skepticism. “This place is basically a shoebox with plumbing.”
“It’s cozy. Two bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room. Everything a man needs.”
“It’s tiny.”
“It’s mine.” I grab another chair, the wood smooth under my hands. Elijah does beautiful work. “And it fits my table perfectly, so stop complaining and keep lifting.”
“I’m just saying.” Milo hoists the fourth chair with ease, because of course he does. The man tends bar for a living and somehow has arms like a lumberjack. “When you eventually settle down and start a pack, you’re going to need more space.”
“Good thing I’m not planning to settle down anytime soon.”
“Uh-huh.” Milo’s grin says he doesn’t believe me for a second.
Elijah hasn’t said much, just quietly helped us unload with that steady efficiency he brings to everything. The guy could probably build an entire house without speaking more than ten words. After the chairs are in, he goes back to his truck and pulls out something wrapped in a moving blanket.
