Could she afford a place on her princess salary? Could he, working three jobs already?
He struck me as the kind of guy who wouldn’t move out until he got married. Even then, he’d probably show up to shovel his family’s driveways in the morning and take care of his mom in her twilight years. He stood by the people he loved.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to be tied down to a family forever, but if he stood by me…
Cassandra popped around the counter. “Hello.”
I flinched and clutched my phone to my chest. “Hey, I thought you were Andre.”
“No, he’s finishing the walkthrough.” She plopped some shoes onto the sorting rack. None of them had been put back right, sothe tissue paper was all askew. She snuck a pair of tiny Zeezy’s out of one of the boxes. “What do you think of these?”
I fucking hated that brand. Burn them, I wanted to say. “They seem a little small for you,” I managed.
“They’re for my grandson. His birthday’s coming up.” She smiled, stroking the tiny soles.
“That’s a generous gift.” Especially on a Fancee’s-only salary. “I’m sure he’ll like them. Won’t he outgrow those pretty fast though?”
She held the shoes to her heart. “Oh, I know, but he deserves to feel special. I want him to know his Meemaw loves him.”
“That’s sweet.” Maybe I was being too stingy since no one ever did grand gestures like that for me. Although Zack seemed to do something nice on the daily: shoveling, putting away boxes, and telling me I was pretty. But he was helpful even for people he wasn’t dating.
“Do you want to punch out for a minute and I’ll ring you up?” I asked.
“Yes, thanks. Who were you texting by the way? A certain muscle man?” She wagged her brows.
“Yes.” It was obvious we were an item since we’d been taking breaks together. Plus, he had been extra attentive to our department—and not just for potential hookups in the stacks. He’d often say, “Hey” sharp enough Andre could hear him upstairs. Then, Zack would ask me about my day or tease me about being on my phone again. Almost like a friend.
I stroked his icon in our texts, a selfie from our early days of dating. His square jaw was totally unfiltered. So was my smile. But the image of us as a happy couple was fake in other ways, right? I put my phone away and tried not to overthink it.
After all, I had plenty of drama in my client inbox. Those guys lamented frigid wives, cold exes, and annoying bosses.I distracted them from their problems. By now, I’d perfected putting mine in a compartment.
A while later, I put on Stylin’ Miles for the drive home. He was my distraction. Another musician. But he wasn’t like Theo or Zack. Our love could last forever.
My notifications pinged, and my car dashboard lit up with a text.
Weirdo. I poked his contact info to call him back.
“Hello?” he answered.
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” I asked.
“It’d been a while since you texted back, and you’re always on your phone, so…I don’t know.”
I smiled at the mental image of him messing up his stupid haircut. Why would he be worried about our last conversation?
